#i just.... they give me a little hope okay

[mariasont]

hey girlie, first of all absolutely adore all of your hotchie fics no one writes him as well as you do!! second of all i am dying to read bimbo!assistant! x hotch smuuuutt (only if ur comfortable, pls ignore if not!!) i feel like that would be the only time hotch would have her completely and utterly speechless (idk why but i literally cannot get hotch w a breeding kink out of my goddamn mind!!!!!!) anyways hope ur having a fab day, and thank u for feeding us over the last few days 😘

Space Between Distraction & Indulgence - A.H

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader want’s aaron’s attention. aaron wants to finish his case notes. too bad for him, you always get what you want

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit stuff going on here, fingering, p in v, no condom (bc we trust hotch is responsible but you shouldn’t be), dirty talk, hotch is a boob man sorry not sorry, after care with a side of psychoanalysis bc he can’t help himself

wc: 6k (got a little carried away my b)

a/n: thank u sm for requesting ugh!!!! u all r going to give me a god complex if you keep talking about how i write hotch LOLOL i love u sm hope u like the fic!!

Saturdays with Aaron had a way of making time feel like something slippery and golden, something you could almost touch before it vanished between your fingers. The mornings stretched long and languid, a lazy kind of indulgence that should have felt endless, but somehow, with him, it never was.

You woke up late. Very late. The kind of late that made you blink at the clock in mild disbelief before flopping back against the pillows. And then there was the warmth. Not just the heat of the blankets, but something deeper, something winding low in your belly.

Oh. Right. The dream. You swallowed, biting your lip as if that might make the memory dissipate. It wasn't outright filthy, but it had been suggestive enough. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing. It was the kind of thing that made you wish Aaron was still in bed.

He wasn't, of course. That would require Aaron Hotchner to do something reckless and irresponsible, like relax. If he wasn't keeping the country from total collapse, he was finding something equally as urgent to fix, probably buried in reports right now, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the page like national security depended on it. And maybe it did. You didn't know.

What you did know was that you'd been circling him all afternoon, orbiting like some needy little planet trapped in his gravitational pull, and he still hadn't acknowledged you. A small part of you—one you didn't want to name—had hoped he'd notice you by now. That he'd glance up, see you, reach for you. But he hadn't. And that was okay. Really. You weren't needy. You weren't desperate.

But you noticed him. You always noticed him. And this version of him, the weekend version, was particularly hard to ignore. The casual clothes, casual for him, anyway, stomped all over your ability to think straight (not that you had much to concentrate on in the first place).

The grey crewneck he had on stretched across his shoulders, molding to the shape of him like it had been made for him. His jeans, worn in all the right places, settled on his hips in a way that made you feel like a pervert just by looking.

Even his hair had you practically drooling. Not messy, of course—Aaron Hotchner didn't do messy—but it was softer than usual, a little mussed, like he'd dragged his fingers through it one too many times without bothering to fix it.

It made him look almost touchable, like someone who should have been stretched out next to you on the couch, letting you mess it up even more, not hunched over a pile of paperwork like the case files were going to disappear if he blinked.

His forearms flexed every time he turned a page, his muscles shifting subtly every time he moved. You didn't even realize how blatantly you were staring until his fingers skimmed up to his jaw, scratching absently at the stubble there. Because now all you could think about was how it would feel under your fingertips, under your lips, under—okay. Enough.

The magazine in your lap was technically open, fingers flipping through glossy pages filled with designer gowns and scandalous headlines. Normally, you'd be all over it, sipping coffee as you devoured the who wore what and who was caught with who. But today, you weren't really reading, you were just holding it, turning pages for the sake of it. Something to occupy your hands while you definitely didn't stare at Aaron.

He had started keeping these around after you mentioned, offhandedly, how much you loved them. You hadn't even meant it as a suggestion, but the next time you visited, there it was—sitting on the coffee table like it had always been there.

He hadn't spared you so much as a glance since you walked in—not even when you'd practically drifted past his desk, close enough that he should've felt you there. He had mumbled a good morning, sure, but his eyes never left the page, his attention locked onto whatever was in that file.

You sigh—loudly. Pointedly. The kind of exaggerated little huff that normally earns you at least a glance, maybe even a what's the matter, sweetheart?  There was no reaction today. He just flipped another page, one hand smoothing over the text, the other tapping against the desk like you were completely invisible.

You toss the magazine onto the table—just a little too hard. Then you stretch out on the couch, shifting just enough that his button-down rides up, baring more of your thighs than should be considered decent. The air against your skin makes you hyperaware of what isn't there—only your favorite panties. The tiniest scrap of fabric between you and absolute obscenity. If he so much as glanced in your direction, he'd have the perfect view. But he doesn't.

You sigh again, softer this time, just enough to sound absentminded, like you're not trying to get his attention (even though you absolutely are). As you push yourself off the couch, you stretch a little, giving yourself an extra moment to watch him. You make your way toward him, steps slow, letting the hem of his shirt brush against the tops of your thighs as you move. His fingers flex against the page.

You settle against the edge of his desk, bracing yourself on your elbows, making a very intentional point of pressing your tits together. It's the kind of thing that should be subtle—just a natural consequence of your posture.

Months of Aaron have taught you more than just the way he takes his coffee or how he organizes his files. You've studied him—memorized him even. And one thing has become crystal clear:

He's absolutely a boob man.

You realized it gradually—the subtle stiffening of his posture whenever you leaned a little too close in the office, the way his fingers flexed when your blouse had just a bit too much give.

Then, when you started dating, it became even clearer. His hands never just grabbed—they claimed, like he was making up for all the times he couldn't touch.

His voice would go low, reverent, when he murmured, so pretty, sweetheart, his thumb brushing over your skin like he needed to feel it. And your bras—he had thoughts about those, much to your surprise. Which ones were his favorite. Which ones he hated because they got in the way.

But it wasn't until months later—when he had you spread out beneath him, his mouth hot and urgent against your skin—that he admitted it. His voice was rough, breathless, his grip tightening as he groaned, been trying so fucking hard not to look at these for years. And then, just to prove it, his mouth sealed over you like he had years to make up for.

"Do you need anything? Water? Coffee? Maybe lunch?"

His eyes lift—quick, practiced, almost indifferent.

Almost.

Because before they settle back down, they pause, just for a fraction of a second, right there. Right at the collar of his button-down, where the top buttons are hanging loose, where your skin is warm and soft and practically begging for attention.

But then, before you can revel in it, he's already looking back down. "No, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, actually contemplating throwing his stupid case file out the window. He's either knows what you're trying to accomplish and ignoring you on purpose or he's just that focused. You weren't sure which was worse.

You shove off the desk, but you don't step away. Instead, you step closer. Your hands find his shoulders first, sliding down to his chest as you lean into him, pressing against his back. The shift is immediate. He goes still, his spine going ramrod straight, like his brain has just caught up to what's happening.

Your shirt is paper-thin, your nipples are pressed right against him, and unless he's suddenly gone completely numb, he feels it.

You sink against him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. Gods, he smells good. Clean, sharp, like something expensive.

You recognized it as the cologne you bought him. The one you picked, the one you dabbed on his wrist in the middle of a department store and grinned, telling him, This. This smells like you. This is the one.

Your fingers skim over his collar, your nails just barely catching against the heat of his skin.

"What are you working on?" You let the question drip from your lips, your voice all honey, sweet, but not innocent.

Aaron hums low in his throat. "Case notes."

"That's boring. Is there anything I can do to help? Your assistant is very willing to be of service."

His fingers pause and your stomach flips. But then, before you can savor it, he moves. His hand finds yours, slow, gentle, lifting it with patience. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, featherlight, frustratingly chaste, before setting your hand back down like you're some good little thing that's been successfully pacified. And then you catch it, the tiniest twitch of his lips.

"Thank you, honey, but I've got it under control."

You make a noise, half scoff, half petulant whine, and shift your chin against his shoulder, angling yourself just enough to shoot him a pointed glare. "You always say that. What's the point of having such a capable assistant if you're not going to use her?"

"Hmm. So that's what you want? For me to use you?"

"I don't know. Is that an option?"

Aaron's laugh is low, the kind that rumbles through his chest without much warning. It's never loud—it doesn't have to be—but it still manages to send your stomach into a ridiculous free-fall.

"There's just some stuff I need to finish up."

You groan, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder, arms squeezing around him like you can physically hold his attention. Like you can will it away from the pages in front of him and back to you where it belongs.

"Is that your way of telling me I just have to sit here and be patient?"

Aaron's pen doesn't pause. "Mhm."

You huff. "And you think I'll be able to do that?"

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"You've survived this long," he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you'll manage."

"Fine," you say after a moment, stepping around the chair before sinking into his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he doesn't. He never does.

You shift until you're settled, one leg draped over his, chest brushing his. His breath stutters—just a little, just enough to tell you that he feels you. His fingers flex against the desk, pressing harder into the wood, tension rolling through his back as he goes perfectly still beneath you, like he's waiting to see what you'll do next.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you hum, arms draping easily over his shoulders as you sink against him. Your cheek brushes his, lips just close enough that if he turned his head, just a little, you'd be right there. "You said you had to finish working. Don't let me stop you."

A slow inhale, a slight tilt of his head, then—his pen moves again, like nothing's changed. Like you haven't changed anything. You exhale against his skin, hiding your smirk in the crook of his neck, fingers idly tracing slow, featherlight circles along the nape of it. He's humoring you, and that's fine.

You let him pretend for a while, content to exist in the space between distraction and indulgence. You shift in his lap, weight pressing into his just enough.

His body reacts before he does, muscles tightening, his breath slowing like he's thinking too hard about not reacting.

"Sit still."

"I am still," you reply, the words light on your tongue, but the slow curve of your hips tells another story.

"Sweetheart."

You lean in, close enough that your noses brush, your forehead pressing to his as your lips part ever so slightly. "What? I'm not doing anything."

Aaron's breath comes out sharp, ragged, the sound scraping its way from his throat like he's been holding onto it for too long. His chest pushes against yours, every inhale pressing you closer, every exhale heating the space between you. He leans back, just enough to create the smallest sliver of distance.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, savoring the friction that sends a shudder through you, tightening every muscle in your body with anticipation. The feeling sparks through you, sharp and intoxicating, sending heat pooling in your stomach. His reaction was subtle, the shift of his jaw, his hand brushing against the desk, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you yet.

His gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to where your bodies fit together, the rise and fall of your breath syncing with his.

His hands land on your hips, thumbs pressing in, not enough to stop you, just enough to remind you he could if he wanted to. When his eyes meet yours again, there's no rush, no immediate reaction. You knew exactly what it meant and what usually followed, he was just waiting for the moment you tip the scales too far.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly it is you're trying to do?" he asks, his voice low, the kind of tone that makes you forget your own name for a second.

You push against him again, grinding just enough to feel the press of him, the heat of him, and god. His fingers dig in—tight—like he's trying to stop you, but you don't miss the way his breath catches, the way his grip falters for half a second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and suddenly, you can't remember what your original plan was.

You shift forward, your body molding to his, your breath fanning against his skin as your lips brush his ear. Your teeth scrape, light, but not accidental.

"I'm just feel a little... overlooked." Your fingers tighten where they rest, nails digging in just enough to make sure he feels it. "Is it so bad that I want your attention?"

His grip tightens, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips with a kind of warning you'd be stupid to ignore. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, scorching into your skin like a brand.

"You have my attention." You don't believe him. Not really. You press your lips into a pout, brow furrowing just slightly. "But if you keep moving like that, I might now be so nice about it."

Your hips shift, an instinctive little squirm, testing to see if you can push past his hold. You can't. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" he repeats, almost thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over in his mind. "I think you can. You just don't want to."

You want to argue, you really do, but nothing comes out, only a sharp inhale that never quite makes it into words. Because he's right. He knows he's right.

The little noise that escapes your throat is purely instinctual, frustrated but breathy, like your body is already conceding before your mind catches up.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs, but the way it sinks into you, the way it wraps around your ribs like something stretched too tight, tells you exactly what kind of trouble you're in.

He mirrors you, crowding in, his breath skimming your ear. His palm presses into the small of your back, slotting you back into place. "But you don't listen, do you?"

You shake your head without even meaning to, the deafening roar of your pulse making it impossible to think clearly.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, turning darker, more intimate. His hands flex as if to remind you of the control he holds. Then his lips graze your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin. "You push. You test the boundaries. And then you pretend to be shocked when I hold you to them."

His fingers slide down, dragging over your thigh with an almost excruciating slowness. He pauses to squeeze there.

"First, you sprawled out on the couch—" his thumb sweeps over your skin, "like you didn't know exactly how that would look."

Your breath stutters, catches, knots itself into something tangled and messy as his hand moves, sliding higher, pressing firmer, stopping just shy of where the ache blooms.

His eyes darken, the heat behind them smoldering with something deep, something that settles like fire in the pit of your stomach.

"Then you leaned over my desk, practically shoving these—" His hand moves before the words fully land, cupping the curve of your breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple. "—right in my face."

Your breath catches, your hips lifting, your thighs parting like you're meant to be touched. Like you need him there. But he doesn't give in. He just moves lower, slow and taunting, until his palm covers the heat between your legs, pressing lightly over the thin fabric of your panties.

His fingers flex, testing. Feeling.

"And now this," he murmurs, and gods, his voice, his voice, is like a razor wrapped in velvet, smooth and cutting all at once. "You squirm and pout like you don't know exactly what you're doing. But I know better, don't I?"

The words settle in your spine, and suddenly, you don't feel like you know what you're doing. Like you're the one pulling at a thread you don't quite understand, but it's already too late to stop. A shiver rolls through you, bone-deep, leaving your muscles lax, your body melting into his like you were always meant to be here.

"I'm sorry," you murmur so quietly, you're not even sure if he hears it. "I just... I wanted you to notice me."

Aaron's hum is low, deep, almost amused. His thumb finds your jaw, sweeping along the curve of it as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I noticed you. I always notice you. In fact, you're all I ever notice." His hand slips away from where you want it most. "But if this is the only way you know how to ask for my attention, sweetheart, then I think we have a problem."

Your grip on his shirt is useless, you're clinging to him, to anything, but he's the one in control. His hands settle on your hips, demanding, guiding you over the hard line of his cock, forcing you to take the friction, to feel every inch of him through the layers still between you.

The friction is blinding, sending heat licking up your spine, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Your legs tremble, a sharp, choked sound escaping before you can stop it, and you clutch at his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle as pleasure coils tight and insistent in your belly.

"Aaron," his name slips from your lips, high and uneven, like it costs something to say it. Your head bows, forehead pressing into his shoulder, hands trembling against his chest. "I wasn't trying to be bad. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"No, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You didn't think, did you? And now look where that's gotten you."

His words should sting, but they don't, not when his hands are so gentle, smoothing down your spine like he's soothing something raw inside you. And then his voice, warm and promising, settles over you, "But I'll take care of you now."

And gods, you need him to. He's so hard, the thick length of him pressing against you through denim and cotton, teasing, tormenting. Everything burns—your skin, your stomach, that deep, pulsing ache between your thighs. Your head swims, feverish, your mind caught between more and please and I can't take this. But he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to keep going, you'll take care of it. Go ahead."

Your hands move with the kind of urgency that betrays just how badly you need this, need him. Your fingers trail down, brushing over the tight muscles of his stomach, and it's almost enough to make you dizzy, just touching him, just knowing what's waiting for you beneath layers of fabric.

The button of his jeans fumbles beneath your fingers before finally popping open. And then you're pulling him free. He's thick in your hand, burning hot against your palm, and something about that, about feeling him like this, for you, makes something feral sink its teeth into you.

And then he finds you.

His fingers slip under your panties, gliding through the obscene slickness there, and you don't mean to react so violently, don't mean to moan so loud, but it rips out of you before you can stop it.

"Oh, honey," Aaron murmurs, almost thoughtful, like he's just now realizing the full extent of your undoing. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this worked up."

Like it's an observation. Like it's fascinating.

His fingers push, stretching you open, teasing just the right spot, and you jerk against him with a sharp, strangled moan. Your grip around him tightens, your strokes turning sloppy, uneven, desperate.

"Aaron—" His name tumbles out high and needy, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

"I didn't mean to—" Your voice shakes, a hitched little gasp tangled between syllables. "I just—" Your breath stutters, heat climbing, overwhelming. "I didn't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do." His fingers slow just enough to let you catch his breath as he murmurs. "You just have to let me take over. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Your nod is frantic, almost mindless, as his words echo in your ears.

"Please." It falls from your lips like a confession, like you'd say anything if it means he'll give you what you want.

His fingers thrust deeper, and the shock of it rips a gasp from your lips, straight into his kiss. It's messy, frantic, all clashing mouths and stolen air, your breaths coming too fast to match his, like you're afraid if you let him go for even a second, he'll pull away.

Your grip on him tightens without thinking, your fingers flexing around his cock, but the sensation barely registers now, drowned out by the wetness pooling between your thighs, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls.

You can't keep up. You're chasing something that feels just out of reach, your hands leaving his cock, fumbling for something solid, something real. They find his face, fingertips brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw, trying to find yourself in him, in the way he's ruining you.

You kiss him like you can tell him everything that way, like he might understand the ache better through lips and tongues and the way your body trembles under his hands.

And then—he stops. His fingers slip free, and the sound you make is a whine, a protest, your hips tilting, seeking, trying to drag him back in. But he doesn't move, doesn't give you what you need, just smirks against your lips like he enjoys watching you squirm.

"You're so impatient," he murmurs against your lips.

But before you can protest, before you can tell him that yes, yes, you am impatient, please just give it to me, his hands tighten on your hips. And then—oh.

He lifts you, positioning you just right, and then, lowers you down.

The head of his cock pushes inside, and your breath catches, lips parting in a broken gasp. The stretch is devastating, inch by inch forcing your body to open, to yield to him. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and for a second, you forget how to breathe, how to think, your only thought being how does he even fit?

It feels endless, your thighs shaking against his as he takes his time, forcing you to feel every slow, torturous inch. Your body clenches around him, your nails dragging over his scalp as you bury your face against his neck.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice thick, lips grazing your temple. "That's it. Let me take care of you. You just have to let me in, sweetheart."

"Okay, okay," you whisper, voice shaky as you bury your face against his neck, arms wrapping tighter around him.

His other hand moves, dragging up your spine before wrapping around your waist. And then—he presses deeper.

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, punched-out gasp. He doesn't stop, doesn't let you breathe, just sinks in, stretching you open until he's fully seated inside you. Until there's nowhere left to go.

"That's it," he groans, voice tight, his mouth ghosting along your jaw. "So tight. So warm. Fuck, sweetheart, you know this is what you were made for, don't you?"

You try to think of something, something teasing, something bratty, something that might tip him over the edge, but your body betrays you, trembling around him, squeezing down so tight you feel him shudder.

"God, you're tight," he mutters, his fingers pressing into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. "I can feel every little tremble, every squeeze. You feel that, sweetheart? How perfectly you fit around me?"

"It's like you don't want to let me go. Is that what you want, honey? To keep me right here?"

Your body clenches down instinctively, like you're answering him without meaning to, and his breath catches for just a second before his lips curve against your skin. You nod, frantic, a little dazed, a little wrecked, and his chuckle is pure sin.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back just enough to create the kind of unbearable friction that makes your breath catch, your body tightening like a bowstring.

"Every little sound you make drives me insane." His breath drags over your cheek, his lips just shy of touching, like he's teasing himself as much as he is you. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

You try to answer, you really do, but your lungs don't work properly anymore, your body focused on the pleasure threatening to snap at any second. Your fingertips tremble against his shoulders, your thighs quiver, and Aaron knows exactly what that means.

"That's it. I can feel you trembling, sweetheart. You're so close, aren't you?"

His words strike something deep, something primal, and the fire curling between your thighs roars in response. Your head tips back, your breath breaking apart as your hands scramble for purchase, fingers sliding to his face, thumbs brushing over the roughness of his jaw. You pull him into a kiss that's all hunger, all desperation, your lips parting to let him devour you.

He groans into your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your chest, and then his hips snap up into you. The stretch is suffocating, the sheer fullness of him sending sharp pulses of pleasure up your body with every deep thrust.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "You don't have to hold back. Just let go for me, sweetheart."

It crashes into you harder than you expected, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. Your moan catches halfway, tumbling out in pieces as your body convulses, clenches tight, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

He thrusts deep, brutal, final, and then he's gone, his head dropping back as a groan tears from his chest.

He fills you in thick, pulsing waves, each pulse making your thighs tighten around him, making you gasp at how deep it settles. The feeling is overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight, the way his cock still twitches inside you, like he’s unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

You're not sure where your body ends and his begins, your limbs heavy, useless, boneless as you slump against him. Your breath stutters, still uneven, every exhale pushing against his chest as the last waves of pleasure roll through you.

"You take every drop so fucking well," he murmurs. "Meant to keep you full."

His fingers press into your hips, just a little tighter, just enough to make you feel how deep he still is.

"Don’t move yet."

Your breath stutters, the words landing deep, something fluttering tight in your stomach.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, his hands absently smoothing up and down your spine. His voice drops, lower, rougher—

"I want to make sure it sticks."

You shudder, pressing closer, your face tucking against his neck as everything—the fullness, every drop of his cum—settles in.

Aaron exhales, his chest rising beneath you, and suddenly, he shifts. His grip on your hips soften and slide up, like he can feel the way you're trembling against him. 

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

You try, you really do, but when you inhale, it's a stuttering, gasping thing, barely controlled. Your thighs still shake, your body still throbs around him, and you can feel the way he exhales, like he enjoys this—enjoys feeling you like this, soft and trembling in his arms.

"Easy," he murmurs. One hand slides up your spine, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. "That was a lot."

You nod—or, at least, you think you do. Everything feels floaty, light, warm. Your head feels like it's filled with pink clouds. Your limbs feel soft, useless, like you're some well-loved doll that's been played with for hours.

He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze.

"You okay?" His brow furrows slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You blink slowly at him, lips parting, trying to focus.

"Mhm," you hum, then pause, frowning just slightly. "Wait, no—hold on."

His jaw tenses immediately, but you reach up, poking his cheek with a weak, clumsy finger.

"You didn't kiss me," you mumble, like it's the most important fact in the universe. "You're supposed to kiss me after, 'cause, like, you love me and all that."

Hotch lets out a slow breath, like he's holding something back. His head tilts, just barely shaking, like he's in mild disbelief of you. And okay, fine, maybe you do say a lot of dumb things. But this wasn't dumb. It was valid. It was scientifically proven that post-sex cuddles should include at least one (1) I love you and one (1) kiss, and you were simply holding him accountable.

"Of course I love you," he murmurs, like the answer is so obvious, so unquestionable, that it almost makes you feel silly for asking. And then he kisses you.

It's deep, drawn-out, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. 

You're still in his lap, still tangled in the ridiculous, oversized leather chair, but you don't feel like you're anywhere. Not in his apartment, not even in your own body. Just floating, existing in between his lips and yours.

When you finally pull back, it's not even voluntary—just the sad, unfortunate reality of needing air.

"Wow," you murmur, your fingers lazily brushing over his jaw.

"Wow?"

"Mhm." Your tongue darts out, sweeping over the kiss-swollen curve of your bottom lip, like you're trying to catch what's left of him there, trying to savor it. "Like... I feel very wow."

A smirk tugs at his lips, but his hands don't stop moving, don't stop tracing, don't stop feeling. His fingers smoothed absently over your hips, up your spine, his palms blending into your skin. Like he's checking for something. Like he's making sure you're here with him.

And for a second, you think he's about to kiss you again. He looks like he wants to, his gaze flickers to your lips, his hands flex just slightly, his body leans in just a hair. But then his gaze flickers, his lips part slightly as if he'd just remembered something.

"You said something earlier."

You blink again, brain lagging behind slightly as reality creeps back in, still floating somewhere in bliss. Which you felt was a more pressing topic than whatever he's about to say.

Your face scrunches up immediately, like maybe if you look cute enough, he'd drop it. 

"I said a lot of things earlier," you rush out, voice a little too high, a little too hasty, your hand flapping vaguely in the air. "So many things. A real stream of nonsense, actually. I was just saying words, you know, as one does—"

You shift slightly, suddenly painfully aware of the position you're in, and he doesn't even blink.

"Aaron," you say, narrowing your eyes. "You're literally still inside me and you want to have a conversation right now?"

"Yes," he says simply, like of course he does, like this is completely reasonable, like you aren't still wrapped around him, skin warm and sticky from what you just did.

His brows furrow slightly, and his head tilts in that very specific way that means he's already pulling apart the words, unraveling them like a thread, and working through them with that brain of his before you can even begin to take it back. 

"You said you felt overlooked," he states plainly, like a fact, which you guessed it was. "If that was something you just said in the moment, we can drop it."

His eyes narrow, studying you like he already knows the answer. "But if you meant it, then I want to understand why."

Your mouth parts, ready to push out something easy, something light, something that won't lead to the very real, very terrifying act of actually admitting things.

He was serious. Not angry or annoyed. Just serious. And concerned.

You exhale, suddenly very invested in dragging your nails lightly over his chest, watching the way they disappear into the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles shift slightly beneath your touch.

"I mean... it's not a thing," you mumble, barely glancing up. "More like a thing-adjacent."

"Sweetheart." The firmness in his voice made your stomach flip. It's not a scolding or a warning, just his way of making you hear him. "I'm not interested in whether you think it's a thing or not. I'm interested in whether it's true."

"I mean, I guess... maybe a little."

His fingers flex, like he's taking that in. He nods once, slowly. "That makes sense."

Your brows furrow. "It does?"

"Yes," he states plainly, like it's obvious. "You pick up on subtle changes—even the ones I don't intend to project. And when I get hyper focused on something, I shut everything else out. Not just you. Everyone."

"It's a defense mechanism. A way to compartmentalize. It doesn't mean I don't notice you. It means my brain assigns the highest level of urgency to the task at hand, and everything else—everything outside of that—is temporarily shut out."

"When I do that, it makes sense that you would feel like I'm not paying attention to you," he continues. "Because in those moments I'm not."

Your breath catches. He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it almost doesn't sting at first, it just lands.

His grip tightens ever so slightly where his hands rest on your like he already knows how you're taking it.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to be paying attention," he murmurs, fingers brushing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. "It doesn't mean you don't exist in the back of my mind, even when I'm caught up in something else."

Aaron leans in a fraction, his eyes holding yours.

"Do you know what I did last night after you fell asleep?" he asks.

You blink. "Uh... sleep?"

He smirks. "Eventually. But first, I checked the thermostat. You always get cold at night, even when you say you won't."

Your face warms. "That's just—,"

"And before I left for work last week, I moved your car closer to the building because I saw you left your umbrella at my place."

"I—,"

"And when I'm out of town, do you know what I do every morning?"

You swallow.

"No."

"I think about what you're having for breakfast," he murmurs. "Not consciously. It's not something I try to do. It just... happens."

"You always eat something sweet," he continues, his thumb brushing over your jaw. "It's usually a pastry or something covered in chocolate. Sometimes cake, if we're being honest."

Your scrunch your nose again and he smiles.

"So, tell me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up. "Does that sound like someone who overlooks you?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Your heart aches—not the bad kind, but the kind that makes your chest feel too small for everything inside it. Because he's right. He notices everything. Not in the big, showy romance-movie ways but in the little things. In ways that matter.

You inhale a little too hard, blinking quickly, but the stinging in your eyes isn't going anywhere.

Aaron sees it immediately. "Sweetheart."

You shake your head quickly, sniffling.

"I'm not crying," you announce, even though your voice cracks on the last word, which kind of ruins the effect.

He smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say firmly, poking his chest. "I just—I feel very loved and now I have to process that."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do you need time to process, or should I just assume you're going to be attached to me for the foreseeable future?"

Your smile is instant, automatic, the kind that takes over your whole face before you can even think about stopping it. Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers curling into his shirt like you have any intention of letting go.

"Oh no, you're definitely stuck with me," you declare. "Like, you might need to call someone if you ever actually want me to let go."

His smirk is instant. "You're saying I should alert the authorities?"

You nod sagely. "I mean, that would be the responsible thing to do. But by the time they arrive, I'll have already made a compelling argument about how you should just let it happen."

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[hope-for-the-planet]

Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

[lotuswish]

˗ˏˋ how they hold your hand (housewardens & jamil) ⭑ .ᐟ

synopsis: fingers intertwining, a gentle squeeze, the warmth of a palm against yours—how each boy holds your hand says more than words ever could. from shy, lingering touches to firm, protective grips, every gesture is a glimpse into the way they love.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): none.

a/n: just a cute and silly idea i had at 3am. :3

riddle rosehearts

riddle holds your hand like it’s a delicate porcelain teacup—carefully, with just enough pressure to keep it secure. at first, his fingers are a little stiff, his cheeks faintly pink as he focuses on not fumbling. he tries so hard to get it just right, and when he feels your fingers relax in his, his grip softens, almost shyly. he’ll sneak a glance at your face, and if he catches you smiling, his hold tightens slightly, a quiet boost to his confidence.

“i hope… this isn’t too forward,” he says softly, his voice careful and deliberate, though his gaze lingers on your joined hands with the faintest hint of pride.

leona kingscholar

leona’s hand intertwines with yours with effortless confidence, his hold firm yet unhurried, carrying a subtle possessiveness—like your hand was always meant to be in his, and he has no intention of letting go. his fingers slide between yours with ease, and he occasionally shifts your hands against his leg or his side, keeping you close without making a fuss. if you try to pull away, even as a joke, he’ll tug you back with a low grumble, his tail flicking once beside him in annoyance.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, herbivore,” he drawls, his tone low and gruff. though he acts nonchalant, deep down, it's his way of keeping you close without having to say it out loud.

azul ashengrotto

azul holds your hand like he’s trying to make the perfect impression, his fingers enveloping yours carefully, almost methodically. his palm is cool, and every so often, his grip tightens subtly, like he’s testing the waters to see if this is really okay. though he maintains his composed expression, his gaze flickers nervously between your face and your joined hands. when he sees your reassuring smile, the faintest flush of pink spreads across his cheeks, despite his efforts to stay collected.

“i trust this arrangement is… satisfactory?” he asks, his voice soft and composed, but the way he clears his throat afterward betrays his nerves.

kalim al-asim

kalim grabs your hand without hesitation, his fingers threading through yours in a fluid, lively motion, like he’s been waiting to do it all along. his grip is strong and eager, a comforting warmth radiating from his palm. the giddy smile on his face makes it clear that your touch is his favorite thing in the world. as you walk, he swings your joined hands, and every so often, he’ll squeeze your hand gently or press it against his chest when he’s particularly excited about something.

“i’m so glad you’re here with me,” he says, his voice bubbling with joy, as though holding your hand is the highlight of his day.

jamil viper

jamil holds your hand with calculated ease—his touch appears casual, but every movement is deliberate. his fingers lace with yours slowly, his grip just firm enough to keep you close without drawing attention. to anyone else, it might seem detached, but the way his fingers subtly shift to match your movements or the faint, almost unnoticeable tension in his shoulders reveals the truth: he’s hyperaware of you.

he doesn’t say much, but after a quiet moment, he glances at your hands and murmurs, “you don’t have to hold on so tightly,” his tone calm, though the slight squeeze he gives your hand betrays just how much he doesn’t want you to let go.

vil schoenheit

vil holds your hand with an air of practiced elegance, his fingers lacing with yours smoothly, as if even the smallest gestures between you deserve the utmost intention and care. his grip is steady and purposeful, his hand fitting perfectly against yours. sometimes, he’ll lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles before letting his fingers curl a little tighter around yours.

“your hands are quite lovely,” he murmurs, his tone carrying its usual polished air, but softer, more personal. “i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised—everything about you tends to draw the eye.”

idia shroud

idia starts by linking pinkies with you, his hand hovering awkwardly at first. his skin is warm and a little clammy, his nerves written in the way his fingers twitch slightly. after a few moments, he works up the courage to slide the rest of his fingers into place, his grip loose but earnest. his hand fidgets slightly against yours, like he’s still adjusting, but when he notices you’re not letting go, a shy, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“uh… your hand’s… really warm,” he mutters softly, his voice unsteady as the tips of his hair flicker pink. “it’s… kinda nice, actually.”

malleus draconia

malleus holds your hand with a quiet reverence, his long fingers intertwining with yours with a gentle but steady grip. his touch carries a subtle chill, and there’s a deliberate care in the way he adjusts his hold, as if mindful of not startling you. occasionally, he lifts your hand slightly, aligning his palm with yours as if to compare their size. his fingers slowly curl around yours again, his touch gentle and his gaze filled with quiet wonder, as though the contrast holds a meaning only he can understand.

“your hands are small, child of man,” he says softly, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “yet they feel as though they were meant to be held by mine.”

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part eight

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: fluff, vulnerability, shimmer mention!, brief mentions of past verbal abuse, angst, mentions of pregnancy (reader’s sister), extremely inaccurate descriptions of how insurance / payout works (just go with it, it’s fiction lol), smut (fingering, m!oral receiving, masturbation, phone sex), no use of y/n. if there’s anything i missed, please lmk.

word count: 10.6k

synopsis: joel and tommy are sent on a dangerous work trip.

a/n: fuck. thanks for being so patient with me. there’s hints of foreshadowing in this unrevised (sry) monster of a chapter, and the next chapter will be angsty. i hope you enjoy tho. thx for sticking around and reading my silly little story <3

Getting back into the swing of things after the holidays has always deemed itself to be arduous. You’re lucky you work from home, but you’d taken on the responsibility of getting Sarah out of the house in time to drive her to school. It’s not that you mind at all, you just hate getting up out of a warm bed, especially when you have Joel as your own personal furnace now. 

Having two weeks off of said responsibility was nice because you and Sarah got to sleep in and you made her breakfast with hot cocoa nearly every morning before you had to clock in for work. She’d spend most of her break over at her friend’s house or reading a book either in the living room or her room, anyway. 

She has since gone back to school, and having the house to yourself again is still a bit unnerving, which is why it’s nice on days like this where Joel has off from work and can spend some time with you. Even if you’re stuck in your home office on days like today, he checks in on you once in a while to make sure you’re doing okay. 

Today has been particularly hard, only because the client you’re working with is demanding as hell and your boss is jumping down your throat to make sure you appease said client. Your face is buried in your hands as you sit and decompress for a minute, and that’s when Joel decides to check in on you. It’s like the man has spidey senses for when you’re going through it or something. 

“Hey baby, I brought you some—” He stops short when he sees the state you’re currently in. 

“You okay, honeybee?” His voice is gentle and honestly concerned, and your heart melts yet again at how sweet he is. 

“Work’s just stressing me out a bit,” you answer truthfully. You look up at him from your seat as he stands beside you, setting down a small bowl of fruit for you to snack on next to you on the desk. You softly smile at the fruit before looking back up at him. “Thank you, handsome.” 

“Ain’t a thing, baby. ‘M sorry you’re so stressed. Anythin’ I can do to help?” 

He steps behind you now and his large, warm hands land on your shoulders before he begins to massage them. You groan softly and loll your head to the side, rolling your lips into your mouth before shaking your head. 

“Nah. Luckily this is my last day dealing with this client, so it’ll only be for a few more hours. Thank you though, baby. It means a lot.”

You reach up and grab one of his hands, giving it a thoughtful squeeze before you let go to reply to an email your boss sent you. 

“Well what if I told you that I have a date planned for us this weekend?” 

You look up at him with furrowed brows. “Where?” You ask, excitement taking over your body. 

“Well, I know everythin’s been kinda hectic with my accident and me healing, your sister’s news, you movin’ in, the holidays, and Tommy and Maria’s engagement. We’ve been so busy n’ we’ve barely had any time to ourselves outside of the house in a while, so I wanna take you somewhere kinda peaceful.” 

He doesn’t give away too much, but you’re already on board.  

“You’ve got me intrigued. Can’t wait to see what you have up that sleeve of yours.” 

“Good, ‘cus I also bought you a couple ‘a things to go along with this weekend’s date.” 

“Oh?” You give him an incredulous look, but his boyish shit-eating grin is all you need to see to not ask any further questions, no matter how piqued your curiosity is. 

You smile up at him and shake your head, focusing back on your work. You sit in silence for a couple of minutes as he continues to massage your shoulders while you type away. 

“I’m gonna go on a run. I’ll be back in time to fix you up some lunch.” He kisses the top of your head before you look up at him with a small smile. 

“If I wasn’t glued to this desk right now I’d join you,” you laugh. “Be careful out there, baby.” 

“Always am. Maybe I can exercise you in another way later on,” he says, smirking down at you with mischief written all over his face. 

“You’re insatiable, Mr. Miller.” But the idea doesn’t sound half bad. 

He holds his hands up defensively. “Can’t blame a guy for wantin’ to love his lady right, can you?” 

You roll your eyes with a laugh and tug him down gently by his shirt before giving him a lengthy kiss. You release him and pat his abdomen twice. “Have fun on your run, cowboy.” 

-

After a long week, the weekend finally rolled around and Joel still wouldn’t tell you exactly what you two were going to do on your date. 

He just kept reassuring you that you’d love it, and you’ve slowly learned to just go with the flow and not ask anymore questions. 

He insisted you wear a blindfold this time, and made you get into his truck as he took the next few minutes to put whatever it was in the back seat before you both took off. 

You ride passenger for about thirty minutes or so with soft tunes of George Strait playing in the background before you hear gravel crunch under the tires of the truck as Joel turns left. 

“You aren’t exploring a new kink right now, are you?” You snort, turning your head in his general direction. “Blindfolding me like this just to take me in the middle of nowhere and have deliciously rough sex with me and make me fall in love with you even more, hm? Is this your diabolical plan?” You can’t help but wiggle your eyebrows at your own absolute absurdness. 

He chuckles deeply and you can practically feel him rolling his eyes at you as the brakes squeak slightly and the truck comes to a slow stop. It’s silent for a moment before you hear him move, and you feel the heat of his body right next to you. 

“Not today, sweet girl.” The deep raspiness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. He huffs a laugh before kissing your cheek and taking off your blindfold. 

You blink a few times as your eyes adjust to the light, the sun shining brilliantly on land—lots of it. Something shimmers in the distance, and you realize it’s a creek that runs along a trail that looks like it’s meant for horseback riding. 

Then it clicks. You look at him with pure excitement in your eyes. 

“Are we going horseback riding?” 

He can’t help but grin at the giddiness in your tone. “Yeah baby, we are. Figured we’d eat first, though. Packed us some of our favorites and thought we could make a picnic of it as we sit by the creek.” 

Your heart absolutely flutters and grows ten times fonder for the man in front of you, if that’s even possible. You try to hold back your tears of gratitude, but one can’t help it and slips down your cheek. 

Joel wipes the tear with his thumb as he leans in to kiss your forehead. 

You grab his face gently in your hands before admiring his beautiful brown irises. 

“Oh, Joel,” you choke out, leaning in for a loving kiss. You rest your forehead against his as you sniffle once. “This is so thoughtful. This place is beautiful. Thank you.” 

“‘Course, my honeybee. Life has been too hectic lately n’ I wanted to treat my woman to somethin’ a little more… relaxing.” 

“What a lucky lady she is,” you giggle, smiling against his lips and giving them one more peck before you pull away. He opens his door and hops out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open your door before offering his hand to you. You take his hand and he helps you out, feet hitting the ground with a thud. 

You both gather the stuff for the picnic before making your way over to the creek that was no more than a hundred yards away. 

You set up the blanket on some soft grass as Joel puts the cooler down beside you both, and you sit down across from each other. You admire the atmosphere, with the sun beaming enough to warm you up some and the song of birds chirping in the trees. The sound of water flowing up the creek adds to the blissful ambience, and you sigh in content before noticing a house off in the distance. 

“Does someone live over here?” You ask, stretching your legs in front of you as you lean back on your palms to hold yourself upright. 

“This is actually my uncle’s land. Tommy n’ I grew up playin’ in these fields and this creek. We’d used to help him on the ranch to earn some extra allowance durin’ the summertime when we got older.” 

You imagine a little Joel and Tommy running around in these fields whose grass sways with the gentle breeze—and then you’re picturing kids of your own. Kids that you’d eventually have with Joel. Hearing their little squeals of joy, chasing them around in the soft grass, making new memories for years to come. You imagine Sarah would be the best big sister, despite any age difference they might have. 

“This place is beautiful, Joel. Does your uncle still own the land?” You ask, eyes shifting back to him. 

He nods. “He does, but he’s had to hire help since he’s a bit too old to take care of the place himself. I know for a while he’d been thinkin’ about sellin’ it, but he says there’s just too many fond memories tied to this place.” 

“That’s understandable. I can just imagine a young you and Tommy causing a ruckus around here,” you laugh, and he nudges your leg with his own. 

“Don’t mean our mama and pops didn’t talk some sense into us,” he chuckles, face tilting toward the bright blue sky. 

“Looks like it did you two some good. They’d be proud of you both, I’m sure. Wish I could’ve met them.” You give him a sympathetic smile, and he gives you a small sad one in return. 

“They would’ve absolutely loved you, baby. I can just hear my mama now: ‘Bout damn time you wanna get settled down with someone nice,’” he sighs and reaches for you, and you maneuver yourself onto his lap. You rest your head against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, giving you a small squeeze while kissing your hair. 

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” you say, nuzzling into his strong chest. 

“She was. I’m very lucky to have had parents that gave my brother n’ I a great example of what true love really looks like, whether it was through their relationship with each other or the love they showered us with. I knew even back then that what Sarah’s mom n’ I had wasn’t true love. It was staying together out of convenience because she’d gotten pregnant. I really tried with her, but nothing made her happy. She became verbally abusive toward me after a while, too. It got even worse after Sarah was born. She didn’t want to be a mother. After everythin’ her and I went through, even after she left us, I’m grateful for her bringin’ my daughter into this world. I love my baby girl more than life itself,” he sighs, taking a breath for a minute as he recounts his past. 

“Raisin’ Sarah as a single dad truly was full of trials and tribulations. I did have help from my family, which I’ll always be grateful for, but I was doin’ it all on my own for the most part. Havin’ the odd schedule I have now and makin’ it work around Sarah’s took a long while, but we finally got it down. Nobody had ever wanted to stick around after a night together because they thought that me havin’ a kid was too… complicated. I can understand it from their perspective, but truthfully, nobody ever gave me a chance to get to show them the real me. They just saw me as someone they can check off their bucket list and mess around with because of my job and the uniform I wear. And then you come along, unexpected, knockin’ me off my feet in the best way possible and showin’ me that love is still in the cards for me. You’re it for me, baby. I don’t think I can ever express my gratitude to you for showin’ me what it feels like to be seen and—god—to be loved the way you love me.” 

You soak his words in before wrapping your arms around his torso. You press a kiss to his stubbled jaw, letting him silently know that you’re here for him. 

“Thank you for opening up to me,” you murmur, tracing your fingers over his back in a soothing motion. “I can’t even imagine what that was like. I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” Your voice holds a gratefulness and sadness that isn’t missed, and he shakes his head. 

“Thank you for allowin’ me to be my true self, emotions and all,” he says, and you hug him tighter. You recall him telling you that his ex would tell him ‘real men don’t cry’, and your heart hurts for him even more. How could somebody be so cruel to such a loving man? 

He sighs and lays down, sun glistening against his beautiful golden skin. You admire his handsome features and softly smile as you bring a hand down to run through his curls. 

He pops one eye open before giving your wrist a tug, and you land on him with an oof. 

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you, trailing his fingers down so he can put both of his hands in the back pockets of your Wranglers. 

“I love you so much, baby.” His voice is thick and low, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. 

“I love you too.” 

The easiness of which the phrase rolls off your tongue is a beautiful thing, you think. You’ve come so far with opening up your heart to Joel, and he, you. You look down at him and savor the way his eyes look like a smooth whiskey in the sunlight, the way the skin around them crinkles when he smiles at you. 

You lean down and finally seal your lips to his, and you feel him fully relax as he moves his hands from your back pockets up to the middle of your back and back down again. You stay like this for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other as the soft breeze causes the grass to rustle and the sound of water and lips smacking is a harmony lost in the wind. 

It isn’t until you hear his stomach rumble that you pull apart from him with a laugh, maneuvering yourself off of him to sit up. 

“Sounds like someone’s hungry,” you tease, reaching for the cooler. 

“I’m hungry alright,” he says, leaning over to capture your lips in yet another searing kiss. 

“I’m serious Joel,” you laugh against his lips. “You gotta eat.” 

He sighs and puts his hands up in defeat. “Fine.”

You nudge him with a grin before opening the cooler, revealing sandwiches, grapes, chips, waters, two soda cans, and… chocolate covered strawberries. You raise an eyebrow at him as he smiles sheepishly at you. 

“Chocolate covered strawberries?” You parrot your thoughts, moving to sit criss-crossed. 

“I know how much you like them so… I made ‘em for you special.” 

If your heart could burst anymore, this man would probably be the end of you with his unconditional love. You don’t know how much more you can possibly handle, even though you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life with him. It’s the little things like this that he goes out of his way to do for you that has never been done by anyone, so getting used to his kind gestures has been a rewarding challenge. 

“Thank you, honey. This is so kind of you.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before handing his food to him, and you both dive into your meals as you enjoy the serenity surrounding you. Then a pressing thought pops into your head. It takes you a few minutes to conjure up the courage to ask Joel the burning question on your mind, but you eventually find the words. 

“Are you serious about wanting kids with me, Joel?” Your voice is soft as you look around again, then meet his gaze. 

He swallows his food before nodding. “I’m one hundred percent serious.” 

Your heart flutters. “You don’t think the age gap between Sarah and her future siblings would be weird?” 

Joel thinks about it for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t say weird. Might just take some time t’get used to. Ever since she was a toddler she’d been beggin’ me to give her a sibling, but I obviously couldn’t do that considerin’ I didn’t have anyone to… procreate with,” he chuckles at the last part. You laugh with him and nod, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich. 

“I couldn’t imagine growing up without my siblings. Even when there were times we all fought, we all still laughed about it later on and got over it quickly. Bless my mom and dad’s hearts, ‘cus I know we were all a handful.” 

You smile as you reminisce growing up with your brothers and sister. You’d want your future kids to have that type of sibling bond, too. 

“I know what you mean. I remember when my mama and pops told me they were havin’ another baby. I was over the moon about it, ‘cus it meant I’d have someone by my side for life. Tommy might be a grade A pain in my ass, but I’m grateful that he and I grew up so close together and stayed that way throughout adulthood.” 

“I think Sarah would be a great big sister,” you say, and Joel sports a proud smile that makes your heart melt. 

“I think so too, baby.” 

“I never thought I’d be talking about having kids with a partner ever again, you know. I’m happy we’re on the same page about this. I think it’s important to discuss this even before we eventually decide to take the next step in our relationship.” 

He nods in agreement as he opens the tupperware that has the chocolate covered strawberries, taking one out before bringing his other hand to coax your mouth open. He offers you a bite of the strawberry, and he finishes off the rest of it after you take your bite. 

“I’m happy too, baby. ‘S good that we can clarify things now. I’ve never been with someone who can communicate with me so easily, so I thank you for that. I really am just a lucky bastard who got hit on at a coffee shop,” he chuckles, shooting you a wink as you laugh. 

“Thanks for taking a chance on me, Miller. Glad I didn’t disappoint.” And with that, you lean in for one last searing kiss before you both finish off the strawberries and dust yourselves off as you take the cooler and blanket back to his truck. 

You’re about to head for the stables in the distance, but Joel stops you. 

“Wait, I have somethin’ for you,” he says, reaching further into his back seat. He pops his Stetson on and you bite your lip before shooting him a look. 

“Haven’t we already established that you in your cowboy hat drives me absolutely wild?” You cross your arms over your chest as you continue to stare at him incredulously.

“Yeah, baby,” he laughs. “But now you get to match me.” 

He pulls out another hat and spins around, plopping it onto your head. Your eyes also drift down as he hands you a shoebox. 

“Joel, oh my– is this–?” You’re at a loss for words, and he sports a smirk on his face. 

“Open the box, sweet girl.” 

You do as you’re told, carefully opening the box to reveal a beautiful pair of brown leather cowgirl boots with white floral stitching across the front. 

“Joel, these are beautiful. Thank you so much.” 

“Ain’t a thing, baby. Try ‘em on.” 

You slip off your sneakers and try on the boots, which fit perfectly. Joel adjusts the hat on your head before giving you his million dollar smile. 

“Beautiful.”

“You think so, cowboy?” 

“Absolutely. And y’know,” he pauses as he slides his hands comfortably on your hips, pulling you flush against his body. “Every cowboy needs his cowgirl.” 

He gives you a twirl before dipping you, leaning down to kiss you before standing you upright. 

You’re all smiles and giggles as you walk hand-in-hand to the stables, where one of the ranch workers greets you both with a smile. 

“Hey Joel, you’ll be ridin’ Stella and Shimmer today,” the man says. Joel gives him a curt nod as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a half smile. 

“Thank you, Drew.” 

Drew tips his hat to you both before walking off to tend to the other animals near the stables, and you turn toward Shimmer as you begin to gently pet her. 

“Hi beautiful girl,” you coo, stroking her snout. She nudges you gently and you grin before glancing at Joel. 

“She likes you,” he says. 

You beam at him before he chuckles and comes behind you, boosting you by your waist as you situate yourself on the saddle on Shimmer’s back. You continue to stroke her mane as you place your feet in the stirrups, grabbing a firm hold of the reins. 

Joel follows suit as he mounts himself onto Stella, and clicks his teeth twice to lead the way out of the stables. Shimmer follows suit, and soon enough, you’re both riding side-by-side on the trail by the creek. 

“Thank you for all of this,” you gesture your hand around you both before grabbing back onto the reins. “It means a lot to me. I had a lot of fun.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice hopeful. 

“Yeah. It’s been absolutely perfect.” 

You take a moment to admire him and how the sun’s golden rays shine on him as it slowly starts to set, casting a beautiful orange and pink glow in lieu of bright blue. He gazes at you with such a softness you’ve never witnessed before, and you think it’s a thing beyond love. Devotion, compassion, protection—all in a single look. 

A look that has taken care of your heart when it was tender and aching, a look that has pumped it full of love again. It’s a look that flips your world around in the best way possible.

It’s a look that could make you cry. It’s funny, because you never used to be so in-tune with your emotions before. Before Joel, a majority of your life with and after Christian had you feeling so numb and devoid of any feelings or emotions. It was draining, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to feel so lively ever again. 

Well, never say never. 

There are no words to describe the love and gratefulness you feel for this man riding beside you, but you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life proving it to him, even if it’s wordlessly done so. 

-

A few months down the line, the ranch ends up becoming a small escape for you and Joel. When you both had free time, you’d slip away and drive to the open fields to enjoy the calmness of the water under the starry nights, laid up in the bed of his truck on top of a bunch of blankets. 

It’s the only house around for miles, so it’s super private and quiet. It’s like your own little secret with him as you’d lay there, talking about anything and everything—and sometimes leading to more. 

You’re in the middle of more, trying to muffle your moans with Joel’s mouth on yours as his fingers curl inside of you. You’re aching and needy, rocking your hips against his palm so your swollen clit rubs against his flesh. It’s intoxicating, the way his fingers move so perfectly inside of you. 

You gasp against his lips as a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. 

“Thas’ it. Atta girl, jus’ like that,” he murmurs his praise as you rock your hips so willingly and meet every thrust of his fingers, so close to your release that your whines start to mesh with your panting. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You fist his hair between your fingers and smash your lips to his in urgency, crying against him as a wave of toe-curling bliss surges through your veins.

”Oh, fuck!” 

You gush around his fingers and down his wrist, and he lowly hums as your body convulses a few more times, stomach drawing taut as you come down from your high. 

“Make such pretty messes, baby. So fuckin’ beautiful.” He kisses your forehead as he withdraws his fingers slowly, sweeping them over your sensitive clit to spread your arousal before bringing his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean. You clench around nothing at the sight as your head falls back against the makeshift pillows, gaze bleary as you try and slow your breathing and heart rate by staring at the stars twinkling so brilliantly. 

Joel dips his head down to kiss you, and you tangle your fingers through his curls once more before dragging a hand down his neck, to his chest, and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm him through the material, arousal blooming in your core once more as you feel how hard he is for you. Feel how much he wants you.

You stop your ministrations for a beat, separating yourself from his lips as you lick the palm of your hand, only to dip it into his sweats and boxers to wrap it around his length. You give him a small squeeze and he groans, eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts back. 

You huff a laugh and lean up to kiss at his thick, warm neck, licking a stripe from his earlobe down to his pulse point. You suck a little on the skin there, loving the way he twitches in your hand. He feels so heavy and warm, and all you want to do in this moment is take care of him the way he deserves—so you do just that. You slide your body down after giving him a kiss, and the dazzling look in his eye is all you need to keep this going. 

You settle your shoulders between his thighs, now face-to-face with his weeping cock. You hum before giving the silky flesh a few more tugs before leaning forward, licking the salty bead of pre cum from his slit. 

“Such a pretty cock,” you praise, rolling your lips into your mouth before you look up at him. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see the flush that has taken over his neck and face in the pale moonlight. His lips are parted and his breathing is a bit ragged, and he’s just waiting for you to pounce. 

Usually, you love to tease him just to see how worked up you can get him, but you’re too impatient and want to hear those delicious moans only reserved for you. 

You lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock before sucking his balls into your mouth, pumping his length as you gently massage him with your tongue. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he groans, hand shooting out to cradle the back of your head. You hum appreciatively around him, pumping him at a steady pace now before moving your mouth up onto his shaft again. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times before taking him all, feeling his head hit the back of your throat. Tears prick your eyes as you try to swallow around him and refrain from gagging. 

“Holy fuck, baby, you like doin’ this don’t you?” His voice is a deep, raspy mess, and you clench your thighs together at the sound. 

He pulls your mouth off of him, the tip of his cock coating your lips in saliva. 

“Answer me. You like this, huh?” 

Fuck. The possessiveness in his tone makes you want to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as you moan, but you opt for a nod as you rasp out a yes. 

“Look so pretty with my cock down your throat. Can fuckin’ see it when you take all of me.” 

You suck in a sharp breath before your dazed, fucked out mind conjures up the words before you even realize it. “Like this?” 

You lower your mouth back onto him, and he’s spewing a string of groans and curses together, and he eventually moans your name like a prayer on Sunday when you keep deepthroating him like this. You don’t let up, either. You know your throat is going to be absolutely fucking wrecked by the time you’re done, but it doesn’t matter. 

Not when you get to see him like this. 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as you let up on his length and just focus your tongue and lips on his tip, making his hips buck up involuntarily. His fiery gaze meets yours and you can tell he’s nearly a goner. 

“So…fuckin’...sexy,” he grunts. You grin as you kiss his tip and flutter your eyelashes up at him, taking him in your mouth and down your throat one more time before slowly coming back up, tightening your lips around him. 

“Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna–” 

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before he’s coming undone, coating your tongue and throat with his cum. His body shudders as you slide your tongue up from his length. You swallow and wipe the saliva off of your chin with the back of your hand. 

“You really are somethin’ fierce, woman,” he praises. You’re too dazed to respond, so you offer him a grin and a kiss to his thigh. 

Joel tucks himself back into his boxers and pulls his sweats up, pulling your body up to his so you’re cuddled into his side. He pulls a blanket over both your bodies and kisses you, and you nuzzle your head onto his chest. His steady breathing and strong heartbeat is what does you in before you even know it. 

You wake up in a bit of confusion, amidst hearing a constant buzzing noise. You’re still in the back of the truck with Joel, who’s passed out beside you. His breathing is steady and he looks so at peace, so you try not to move around so much before you finally realize that Joel’s phone is ringing. 

You have to dig around a bit to find it before you lift it up and squint against the bright light, only to see he has three missed calls from Tommy. Your heart drops, because Tommy is a huge texter. He only ever calls if something’s really wrong. 

“Joel,” you rasp, throat sore from your earlier escapades. His brow furrows and he softly groans, and you softly tap his shoulder. “Baby, wake up. Tommy keeps calling you.” 

His eyes crack open and he sits up, grabbing the phone from you. He dials Tommy back and presses the phone to his ear, still clearly trying to wake his mind up. 

You can’t ignore the anxious thrum of your heart. You have no idea what it could be about, and Joel’s face reads worry clear as day. You wrap your arm around him and kiss his shoulder in reassurance. 

“Tommy, what’s going on?” Joel asks, and you can faintly hear Tommy’s voice on the other end of the line, but can’t make out the words. 

“Shit, okay. I’ll be back at the house in 30 minutes.” 

Joel hangs up the phone and scrubs his hands over his face before looking down at you. He gives you an apologetic smile before leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Sorry honeybee, we have to go back home. Our captain wants everyone at the fire station in an hour. Somethin’ important he needs to tell us all.” 

You furrow your brows and sit up, starting to fold the blankets and pack them away in the cab of the truck. You ride in silence for about fifteen minutes, your hand on Joel’s as his sits comfortably on your thigh. His thumb brushes back and forth in reassurance, but your mind is reeling with possibilities of what could be so important for all of them to know. 

“Do you have any idea what your captain might say?” 

Your voice is soft with a sleepy lull to it, and Joel looks at you for a couple of seconds with a small smile on his lips. 

“No idea, baby. It has to be somethin’ big ‘cus he only calls us in like this if it’s super urgent.” 

You nod in understanding, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance. You arrive home fifteen minutes later, and Tommy greets you both at the front door. You give Tommy a hi/bye hug and Joel a kiss before they’re out the door and driving down the street. 

You decide to stay in the living room. Watch a movie or something, and wait for them to come back. You settle onto the leather couch, wrapping a blanket around you as you turn the TV on and keep it at a low volume. Exhaustion sweeps through your bones as you lay still. Your eyelids get heavy, and before you even realize it, you’re out cold once again. 

-

The front door unlocking stirs you from your sleep, and the familiar tread of boots is heard walking into the living room. 

“Baby, I’m back,” Joel says. 

You open your eyes and yawn, gaze landing on the clock. Eleven p.m. 

“Hey,” you say, voice timid. “How’d the meeting go? Is everything okay?” 

You sit up, allowing room for Joel to plop down next to you. He spreads his legs and leans his head back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I have to leave. Well, Tommy and I have to go. There’s a huge fire that broke out in San Angelo earlier today and it’s spreading fast. They need all hands on deck.”

You take in the information and furrow your brows, pausing for a beat before speaking. “How long will you be gone for?” 

He moves his hand from the bridge of his nose and looks at you with a sad expression. 

“‘M not sure, sweet girl. Could be for a few days or a few weeks. It really just depends on the conditions of the fire and the surrounding areas.” 

You nod in understanding before grabbing his hand, once again squeezing it in reassurance. 

“When do you and Tommy leave?” 

“Tomorrow morning. Captain told us to rest up as much as possible before we head out. It doesn’t look pretty, and it’s a four hour drive for us.” 

“I think you should go wake Sarah up and tell her,” you say. He nods and kisses your head before he trudges up the stairs. You turn off the TV and follow suit, settling into your side of the bed after you wash up and change into your pajamas. 

Joel comes into the room a few minutes later, closing the door behind him. 

“How is she?” You ask, opening the covers for him. He strips down into just his boxers before climbing into bed with you.

He nods. “She’s okay. Sad that I have to leave, but I told her you’d take real good care of her.” 

You huff a laugh and nod in agreement. “That I will, Mr. Miller.” 

Then realization hits you—since Tommy is leaving, that means Maria will be alone. 

“Are you okay if I invite Maria to stay over here while you guys are gone? I know she can take care of herself, but I’d rather her not be alone for however long.” 

“‘Course, baby. ‘S your home, too.” 

And, it is, which is an aspect you’re still getting used to. 

He settles into you, nuzzling his face into your chest as he inhales deeply. He kisses the skin there once before wrapping his arms around you. You rest your head on top of his, running your fingers through his hair. He falls asleep in a matter of minutes, but you remain wide awake, plagued with the thought of him going out to do his very dangerous job.  

You sigh and scold yourself for even thinking about that, because even just the prospect of telling him to stay is so unbelievably selfish. You’d never actually tell him, of course, but you think it and the thought is all-consuming. 

You just worry, like any partner would, but you worry even more especially after the nasty accident he had. You know he’s been doing this for a long time, but you’ve learned that fires can be unpredictable and life doesn’t deal in absolutes. 

A couple of hours pass and Joel is still sound asleep, meanwhile you haven’t gotten a wink of rest. Your eyes roam to the bedside alarm clock—four fifty in the morning. You sigh softly and get up as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb Joel. 

Since you can’t go to sleep, you decide to use your energy to make Joel and Tommy some lunches and a few batches of your cookies that everyone at the firehouse loves so they have something to snack on while they’re on the road. 

You start with the cookies and make enough dough for at least three batches, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You hand mix everything and put the three baking sheets in the oven, setting a timer on your phone. While the cookies bake, you make both of their lunches and pack them away. 

You can’t stand still and need to keep your hands busy to distract yourself from your looming thoughts, so you go ahead and make a fresh pot of coffee, too. 

You pour yourself a cup and put a dash of creamer in it, taking a sip as you lean over the counter and sigh. You close your eyes and rub your temples in an attempt to ease your mind. 

You hear a door open upstairs and some shuffling down the steps soon after, and a sleepy Sarah emerges. 

She rubs her eyes as she gives you a small smile, making her way to the barstool that’s on the other side of the counter from you. 

“You’re up early,” you muse. 

“Couldn’t stay asleep,” she says, and she looks at the oven as she sees cookies baking. She raises an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you couldn’t sleep at all.” 

“You’ve got that right,” you huff a laugh, taking another sip of your coffee. 

“I don’t want him to go.” 

Her blunt confession takes you aback, but it gives you a bit of comfort knowing you and her are in the same boat. 

“I know, sweetheart.” You reach your hand out to cup hers, running your thumb back and forth over her knuckles. 

“I know he’s doing this for good. I just… I don't want to see him hurt again.”

You nod in understanding. “It’s a catch twenty-two.” 

She sighs, and you round the counter to bring her into a hug. 

“I know it’s not much of a distraction, but how about we go get a pedicure later on? Just to relax a little.” 

She nods against you before leaning back to meet your gaze. “I’d love that.” 

“Great. In the meantime, are you hungry? I can make you some waffles.” 

“Thank you, but I’m not super hungry right now…” she pauses, eyeing the oven. “I’d love one of your cookies, though.” 

You laugh and nod, your phone timer going off at the perfect moment. You take all three sheets out of the oven and set them down on racks, letting them cool down. You serve her one before starting to clean up, and that’s when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps make their way downstairs. 

“Morning cowboy,” you tease, pouring his cup of coffee as he stares at you two in confusion. 

“Mornin’…you’re both up early.” He makes his way to Sarah and kisses her hair before moving to you, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. You hand him his cup of coffee and he wraps his arm around you and gives you a gentle squeeze. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking a sip. 

“What time do you and Uncle Tommy need to be at the station?” Sarah asks, biting into her cookie. 

Joel’s eyes glance at the clock on the stove. “Around nine.” 

It’s silent for a moment, and Joel looks back and forth between you both. 

“Y’all still haven’t told me why you’re both up so early.” He raises an eyebrow, looking to you for an answer. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug. 

“At all?” 

“No. I laid there for a couple of hours before I got up to make you and Tommy some lunch and a few batches of cookies for the crew while you’re on the road.” 

Joel’s eyebrows tug together. He sets his cup of coffee down, circling his arms around your waist. He holds his arm out, silently coaxing Sarah to join in. She hops down from the stool and hugs you both, and you nuzzle into them both. You all stand there for a good minute before Joel is giving you both a squeeze and kisses your heads. 

It’s like the sense of dread and anxiety hung in the air, and he clocked in almost immediately. 

Not much gets past him—you’ll give him that.

“I love you both very much. I’ll be alright,” he says. “I promise to check in every day when I can, okay?” 

His comforting embrace and reassuring words warm your heart. 

You all untangle yourselves from the embrace, and you give him a soft smile. 

“We love you too, Joel. We just worry for your safety.” 

“I know baby, I know. Believe me when I say there’s nothin’ I’d rather do than stay at home with you both, but this is an all hands on deck situation.” 

“We’d never ask you to stay, dad. We know this is part of your job and it’s important that you’re there,” Sarah says, pausing as a tremble overtakes her bottom lip. She wraps her arms around him, voice broken and soft when she speaks next. “Just be careful, okay?” 

You can see a flash of emotion in Joel’s eyes as he hugs her back, leaning his cheek on top of her head. 

“I will, babygirl. I swear to you.” 

-

You’re standing in a small group in the fire station, getting ready to send Joel and Tommy off with the rest of their crew. You’re having a conversation with them two, Maria and Sarah when one of their coworkers—Mark, you think—walks up to you, holding up the bag of cookies. 

“I just have to say thank you for these. They’re the firehouse favorite.” 

You grin and shrug. “Not a problem. Just a small thank you for everything you guys do.” 

He smiles at you and looks at Joel. “She’s a keeper, Miller.” 

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses your temple. “I know. I’m a lucky, lucky man.” 

“Alright, it’s time to head out,” their Captain calls. 

You sigh and turn toward Joel. You offer him a small smile as your heart clenches with anxiety, but your expression never wavers. 

Sarah gives Joel a tight hug, expression still a bit sullen. You can tell she’s trying her best to hide it, but it slips through and it’s a look you recognize all too well. You give her shoulders a squeeze of reassurance 

He has that look in his eyes. The one where it’s filled with worry, with anxiousness. The same look that’s probably in yours, too.

You want to lighten the mood, so you tug him flush against your body by pulling the leather strap of his radio holster that sits across his chest. He laughs as his hands land on your waist, and you push your lips to his. 

You separate from him after a few seconds, smiling softly against his lips before you pull apart just enough to see those beautiful, worried brown eyes. 

“Be careful out there, cowboy. I love you.” 

He squeezes your hips. “I will, baby. I love you too.” 

He leans down to give you one more peck on the lips before he moves to say goodbye to Maria. You do the same to Tommy, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a soft little peck on the cheek. 

“Take care of each other, yeah? Life’s a lot more fun when you’re both here with us, unharmed.” You look between Joel and Tommy with a sternness they’ve never seen before. 

Tommy’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, his dimple showing up along with a flash of white teeth. 

“You got it, boss.”

He salutes you, and you sidle up beside Sarah and Maria as you wave them both goodbye. They climb into the same truck, and they’re on their way to San Angelo. 

-

Two weeks have passed, and Joel still isn’t home. He keeps his promise on checking in every day when he can, sometimes shorter conversations than others, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

Today, your siblings all agreed that a lunch was much needed between you four so you could all catch up. It was the perfect distraction, and with Sarah at school and Maria at work, you agree immediately. It’s so odd being in an empty house when you’re not on the clock, and since you’d finished with your clients early, you had the rest of the day to yourself. 

You meet up with them at a local diner, slipping into the booth next to Emily. She has a small belly now, and you lean down to air kiss it before greeting her, Andy and Cole. 

“I’m so glad we got to do this,” Emily says, and you all nod in agreement. 

“I know. It’s been awhile since I’ve harassed you guys,” Andy jokes. You roll your eyes and throw your crumbled up straw wrapper at him. 

“So how goes it?” Cole asks, leaning back in the booth. The young waitress stops by your table to take your orders before collecting the menus, and Emily starts. 

“Things have been great, actually. Baby boy is healthy and Josh got promoted at work.” She runs a hand over her belly, and your eyes light up. 

“I’m so happy for you, Emi. How does Josh like the promotion?” 

“It’s great, really. He gets more time off now, especially to come with me to my appointments, and he got a pretty significant increase in his salary.” 

“That’s so good. I still can’t believe you’re having a kid. My nephew is gonna be a little stud with the coolest uncles,” Andy says. 

“What am I, chopped liver?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re only semi-cool. You’re with a cool guy, though, so I guess that raises your points.” 

“God, you men are so fucking weird with your logic sometimes.”

“Yeah yeah,” Andy waves your words away, before his expression gets a bit more serious. “How is he though? How’s Tommy?” 

“They’re okay. They’re exhausted, though. The fire had spread rapidly because of the winds, and they’re still in the process of containment, but I think it’s almost at one hundred percent.” 

“Fuck. I can’t even imagine. We had a pretty dry winter too, which probably didn’t help much,” Cole says. You shake your head and gnaw on your lip, deciding to change the subject for your own sanity. Emily senses it, because your sister knows you like the back of her hand, and she finds your hand folded in your lap and gives it a reassuring squeeze. You squeeze right back.

“So what’s been going on with you two? Anything new?” You look between your brothers, and the waitress drops off your food before they can say anything. 

Cole’s eyes avert to the basket of fries in front of him, and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him carefully. He finally opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut when Andy starts to talk. 

“Not much. Work is good. Can’t complain.” Andy shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his burger, and you nod before looking back to Cole. You nudge his foot under the table and his gaze snaps up to yours, and you give him an encouraging smile. 

“That’s good, Andy,” Emily says. 

“I, uh, I met someone,” Cole starts. Everyone’s eyes shift to him, and he sports a small smile. “It’s still pretty new, though, so that’s why I haven’t mentioned it before.” 

“Hell yeah, brother. Happy for you,” Andy claps Cole’s shoulder and he smiles. 

“Where did you meet?” You ask, popping a fry into your mouth. 

“Met her at the bar we went to a few months back. Finally bucked up and asked her on a date a couple of weeks ago, and it’s been going good ever since.” 

Although Cole seems to exude confidence, you know he’s more on the shy side when it comes to romance. You and him have always been the shy kids, while Andrew and Emily were outgoing and bubbly. When Emily first told you to put yourself out there with Joel, the shy shell of a woman you used to be went into fight or flight mode—but she ultimately ended up being right. 

You can hear it now: That’s what big sisters are for.

You’re grateful you and your siblings are all close in age. Although you’ve all fought over stupid, miniscule things that seemed like the whole world when you were younger, you all ended up being very close, which is something you’ll never take for granted. 

“That’s great, Cole. I hope we can meet her when you’re comfortable enough to bring her around our crazy family,” Emily laughs, and you all chime in and chuckle along. 

“I think Josh and Joel can attest to that,” you say. “I told him he could’ve run for the hills before Emi’s wedding, but that man stuck by my side and told me he wanted to meet all of you.” 

“Now that—” Cole swallows his bite of food, “—Is a real man.” 

“And look at how happy he’s made you. I love seeing you together, especially after everything you’ve been through,” Emily says. 

Andy’s face turns sour, frowning at the vague mention of your ex. “If I ever see him in person again I won’t hesitate to deck him in the face.” 

You didn’t have to question who he was. You already knew. “Get in line, Andy. Joel has first dibs.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up in amusement before he reaches out to you, palm upward, making a ‘give me’ motion with his fingers.

“Give me my ticket.” 

You laugh and push his hand away, and lighter conversation ensues the rest of lunch. 

The waitress drops the check off at the table, and you mumble that you’ll Zelle whoever pays as the other three fight over the check. Your phone rings and you pull it out of your pocket to see who it is.

Your eyebrows furrow as you see your attorney’s name across the screen of your phone. You slide the answer button over and cover your other ear so you can hear him better. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey! Long time no talk. I have some good news,” he says. 

“Hey, yeah, how are you? What’s the news?” 

“I’m good, but even better now—apparently whoever hit you in your accident was some big wig’s kid, and the parents want to pay you out a big amount for your car and, as they said, ‘any emotional damage caused by this accident’.” 

“Oh fuck,” you say. You rub your forehead with your thumb and forefinger. “Sorry, sorry. Uh—how much?” 

In all honesty, you’d sort of forgotten about your accident because so much has happened in your life since that day. You smile fondly at the memory of Joel kissing you in the back of that ambulance, within only hours of knowing each other at that point. 

You had no idea that it would’ve led to this. A good life with an even greater man. 

“They sent out a check to your house, but I think it’s in the hundred thousands range.” 

Your eyes bug out of your head and your jaw drops. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Your siblings all look at you in confusion, but you still can’t wipe the look of shock off of your face. 

Your attorney laughs at your initial reaction, but you’re still in utter disbelief. 

You can’t even fathom that kind of money, but you’re sure your attorney is used to those kinds of numbers. 

“Yeah, so keep a lookout for a check in the mail,” he says. 

“Um, yeah, will do. Thanks for giving me a call.” 

“Of course. I’ll touch base with you if anything else comes up.”

You say goodbye and hang up, and you meet your siblings’ gazes. 

And, with a small smile, you pluck the bill from Andy’s hands. “Actually, lunch is on me today.”

-

You almost fall over when you open the envelope with your check in it. 

Half a million dollars. You don’t know who the hell this kid’s parents are, but writing a check for five hundred thousand is fucking insane. 

You stare at the numbers in disbelief as you sit at the edge of the bed, sun casting its brilliant golden glow across the paper in your hands. The paper that reads half a million fucking dollars. It’s like a jackpot lighting up in Vegas or something.

You don’t know how long you stare, but if you did any longer, your eyes would burn holes in the paper. You slide the check back in the envelope and put it in your underwear drawer underneath your sports bras, because you honestly just can’t believe that it’s real. 

And later that night, when Joel FaceTimes everyone to say hi and check in, you don’t say a word about it. 

It’s not that you want to keep it from him, but you have an idea of what you’d like to do with a portion of the money, and you’d rather keep that idea a surprise for the time being. 

You trudge upstairs once more after Maria and Sarah say goodnight to Joel and Tommy, but Joel tells you to stay on the phone. He watches you do your night routine before you slip into an old oversized Texas A&M sweatshirt of his, sliding into bed. 

“I miss my woman somethin’ awful,” his deep voice rings through the phone. You look at the screen and sigh, a small smile settling onto your lips. He looks so exhausted, and all you want is for him to be safe at home again. By your side in bed. 

“I miss you too, handsome. How’s it looking out there?” 

He groans as he settles onto a bed himself folding an arm to lay his hand behind his head. 

“‘S kickin’ our asses. Embers from the original fire sparked a new one. It’s smaller, but these winds ain’t helping a damn thing.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you say, gnawing on your lip as your eyebrows furrow in worry. “I feel awful that I can’t do anything to help.” 

“There is one thing,” he says. You recognize the tone in his voice—want. 

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Miller?”  

“You wearin’ my old sweatshirt?” He asks. 

You purse your lips and nod, watching how his expression turns lustful and determined in the confines of his temporary bedroom. 

“Wearing it ‘cus it smells like you,” you confess. 

A groan rips from his throat and scrapes low in your belly, and your eyes flutter shut as you feel slick already beginning to pool from the heat between your legs. 

“Are we really gonna do this?” You huff a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I was a touch-starved man before I met you, baby. Then you go n’ spoil me with your pretty hands that can’t seem to keep to themselves.” 

“You could always tell me to stop, you know,” you purr. There’s some shuffling on the other end, and you see his heavy lidded eyes gaze at you. 

“I’d be insane to do so, darlin’.” 

“Would you?” 

He moans softly, and you realize he’s probably rubbing himself up. God, you wish that was your hand. 

“Mhm. Love when your hands are all over me, especially wrapped around my dick.” 

You can’t help but giggle, and a ghost of a smile curls at the corner of his lips. 

“Love that sound, too,” he adds. 

“You know what I love?” Your voice is teetering on the edge of a seductive whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“I love when my big, strong hunk of a man makes me feel so loved and protected. Allows me to delve into my femininity. Uses his strong hands and thick fingers to make me see stars.” 

You realize you’re probably babbling at this point, but your words seem to do the job just fine. Joel’s eyebrows pinch together and that all-too familiar muscle in his jaw ticks wildly. 

“Turn the camera around, Joel. Show me.” 

He doesn’t hesitate to flip the camera around to face the impressive outline of his cock in the gray sweats he’s wearing. Your thighs clench together at the sight, imagining what it’d be like to grind on him until he came undone. Hear his moans and strings of curses as he reaches his peak. 

“Fuck, honey,” you whine. 

“This is what you do t’me, baby.”

His voice almost sounds pained, but you know it’s because he’s held in so much tension the past couple of weeks with no way to release it. You’d do anything to distract his mind from the exhaustion he feels and fires at hand, even if it’s for a brief few moments. 

You decide to be a little raunchy, because fuck, you’re already in this position, and you want to be a good distraction—again—even if it’s brief. 

You make a show of yourself sliding your fingers down the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, wasting no time to reach your desired destination. You swipe your middle and ring finger through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before you bring your fingers up to show the camera—to show Joel—how much he turns you on. 

You separate your fingers, and a string of your slick connects between the two. 

“This is what you do to me.” 

Joel all but growls at the sight, slipping his hand into his sweatpants to grab his aching cock. You can just imagine how warm and heavy it feels in his big palm, and you sigh at the thought. 

“Fuck, baby. Be a good girl n’ touch yourself for me.”

He’s breathless, but the sound sends shockwaves through your body as more slick gushes eagerly from your aching, needy center. 

You slip your two fingers in your mouth, humming around them as you taste the tangy-sweet flavor of yourself. 

“Shit,” he says, a moan scraping from his throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat before slipping your fingers down again, alternating between rubbing your clit slowly and dipping your fingertips into your cunt. 

You flip the camera around to show him, and it sounds like he nearly whines from the sight. You suck in a breath as you stop teasing yourself, slipping the two fingers fully into yourself. You pump them languidly, and hearing Joel’s ragged breath and gasps on the other end of the line has you writhing. 

“You don’t know how bad I wish these were your fingers and not mine,” you gasp out, grinding your hips up into your palm. 

“Oh don’t worry baby,” he pants, “‘M gonna give you everythin’ you need n’ more when I come back.” 

“That a promise?” 

“Mmm—mhm.” 

He matches the stroke of his cock with the pump of your fingers then. 

“Can’t wait to be buried in that pretty little pussy. Take me so well. Fuckin’ made for me, baby. So fuckin’ tight n’ warm. ‘S like a dream,” he babbles, and you have to bite down on the collar of the sweatshirt to keep a moan ripping from your throat.

”Need your mouth all over me too, Joel,” you cry, “Love it when you let me cum by your tongue.” 

“Yeah? Next time I’ll have you usin’ my face as a fuckin’ seat. Hold you down so you have no choice but to cum in my mouth over n’ over again.” 

“Oh, god.” 

“You like that, huh? The thought of fuckin’ my face to get you off?” 

The words die on your tongue as you try to speak, but the pleasure that was once a low burn in your belly is now its own full-fledged sun. It’s so white hot and you’re on the edge, gripping the phone in your hand for dear life. 

“Answer me,” he growls. 

“Fuck, yes! Yes yes yes,” you whisper-cry, and you’re unraveling before him on camera. You soak your hand and undoubtedly the sheets beneath you, but that’s a tomorrow problem. Your body convulses a few times and you moan as you see the white spurts of cum land on his stomach. He moans your name like a prayer on Sunday, and it makes you shiver with seemingly untamable arousal. 

He breathes heavily before grabbing a tissue to clean himself up, tucking himself back into his sweats before he flips the camera back around to his face. 

His cheeks and neck are flushed, and you can see the sweat on his forehead as he tries to steady out his breathing. You stretch and roll over on your side, laying your head on his pillow to inhale his scent. 

“I love you, my honeybee.”

You smile at the nickname and yawn, stretching your limbs one more time before curling in on yourself. 

“I love you too, cowboy. I can’t wait ‘til you’re next to me in bed again.” 

“I can’t wait either, darlin’. I hope this is all over with soon n’ I can love on you the way you deserve.” 

You grin sleepily at his words, post-coital drowsiness wrapping around your body like a weighted blanket. 

“Stay safe out there.” 

“I will. I promise.” 

And you’re fast asleep soon after you hang up. You dream blissfully of life with Joel in the fields by the ranch, of your future with him, of the memories you’ve yet to create. 

You dream of Joel happy and safe, not an ounce of the beautiful man troubled. 

But this is real life. This isn’t a fantasy where you can wish good things for people and it just magically happens at the snap of a finger, a rub of a lamp. 

His resolve was slowly crumbling. The weight of the world was sitting steady on his shoulders, breaking him down piece by piece. 

Each broken fragment of him, scattered and fragile, lay in your hands—

and this time, it was up to you to put him back together.

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[crushmeeren]

༝ ᭝ ༝ ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU — PART TWO ༝ ᭝ ༝

⤷ ⋆ ft. itachi uchiha ⋆

⋆ note ; here is part two! this part is centered around the first time reader has sex with itachi (it’s mediocre, but 100% consensual) — which you can totally skip, a fluffy moment or two between pregnant reader and itachi, some reader and sasuke friendship, plus itachi’s perspective and an important convo with shisui!

⋆ note x 2 ; as always, credit for this idea goes to @majesticflyingwalrus !

‣ ‣ ‣ master list ‣ ‣ ‣ PART ONE

Is sex supposed to be this dull?

Surely not.

Within your clan’s compound you recall sex often being spoken highly of. Giggles and hushed whispers surrounding a forbidden pleasure chased after by so many of the young men and woman living there. Even the ones you’d considered close friends.

It seems your hopes had been aimed too high. Or perhaps that’s too pessimistic. Maybe sex will improve, this is, after all, only the first time you’ve given yourself to Itachi.

Little foreplay was involved as you stripped bare and laid down on the bed. A few brief kisses in the beginning, Itachi’s mouth tasting of the matcha tea he’d drank before. Lips pressed along the line of your throat once or twice, coaxing your lower belly to burn, but it hadn’t progressed much past that. Itachi stroked himself to full hardness before you could get your hand on his cock, assuring you he preferred to do it.

That stung.

In the present, cool cotton sheets bunch up in your curled fingers, thighs spread open wide by Itachi’s palms. The push and pull of his cock stretches your pussy better than your fingers ever could, prickles of pleasure gathering in your pelvis, tickling the base of your spine.

But the atmosphere holds an awkward edge to it. Besides the occasional flickers of heat, the tension is all consuming.

Itachi downright refuses to look you in the eyes. Each time you lift your chin to peak at his face his gaze darts to the side, biting the tip of his tongue in what appears to be concentration. Or discomfort.

It’s hard to read your husband.

There’s no sweet words directed your way. No real passion in the way Itachi moves, thrusts remaining at a steady pace the entire time, somewhat robotic.

You give up trying to catch his eye, redirecting your attention to his stomach. The lean muscles flex and roll under the strain of his hips. It’s surprising how erotic the view is, catching you off guard, and hot desire forces your pussy to clench tight around Itachi. His breath hitches and a low moan spills out. You look up in time to watch his mouth part and a pink tongue dart out to lick across his upper lip.

“Itachi,” you breathe, his pleasure spurring on your own. You lock eyes and his lids are halfway shut, brows pinching together.

His pace slows. “Is everything alright? Have I hurt you?” His voice is rougher than usual.

“No.” You shake your head. “I just..” you trail off, unsure whether to spill your guts about how hot he sounded a moment ago. You opt to keep silent, refusing to make him uncomfortable with your desire. With the tension he’s been carrying since the start, it’s obvious he wants this to be over with as quick as possible. “It’s nothing, keep going.”

He doesn’t thrust any faster, considering your words. “Are you being honest with me?”

The question surprises you. “I’m being honest. Please Itachi, I don’t want you to stop.”

Itachi continues to see straight through you, like you’re made of glass.

“Okay,” he relents, tone conveying how little he believes you. “I’ll be swift, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable any longer.” It feels like an apology as one of his hands comes up to cradle the side of your face. You push into the touch, eager for a shred of his affection.

His palm is warm, and the lump in your throat is difficult to swallow, eyes squeezed shut in the face of his words. You’re the furthest thing from uncomfortable. You’re happy to get the chance to connect with him so intimately. His dick is incredible, and you wish he’d explore more with you to find what made you both dizzy with lust.

But he doesn’t want that.

Itachi is a gentleman through and through. After it’s over, he stays behind to help you relax. He brings back a warm wash cloth and draws you a bath, aware that you’d be sore after having sex for the first time. He guides you by the hand, allowing you to use him as leverage to step into the bath and sink into the water.

“I put some of my salts in the bath. It helps with soreness,” he explains, fingers untangling from yours as you find a comfortable position and sigh in relief.

You stare up at him, a grateful smile on your face. “Thank you, Itachi.” You chew on your bottom lip, heart skipping a beat as you consider your next question. “Would you care to join me?”

Itachi’s answering smile is so sweet it’s unfair, eyes soft and longing. “Perhaps another time, I’ve got some business to attend to.”

You choose to focus on the water, fingertips breaking the surface and diving below. You don’t want him to see your disappointment. “I understand. Another time, then.”

Itachi lingers but you refuse to look at him. His apologetic demeanor will just make it worse. He leaves things unsaid between you, and the pit in your stomach threatens to weigh you down until you’re dragged below the surface.

Things…change after you find out you’re pregnant. Not for worse, for the better, and it surprises the hell out of you. Itachi, who you assumed would keep his lukewarm attitude, becomes more intertwined in your life. Carrying out small gestures to show he cares and pays attention to your needs.

During the second trimester is when the worst of your cravings hit.

The little Uchiha baby in your belly is now the size of an avocado, the obvious bump making it known you’re carrying Itachi’s heir. She’s growing bigger by the day and you’re sure it’s her fault your sweet tooth is aching, begging for sugary treats.

Well, to be fair, you’re unable to prove she’s a she at this point, as Itachi has pointed out several times, but intuition promises otherwise.

Either way, full fledged dreams of warm, chewy chocolate chip cookies have plagued you all week. It’s driving you up the wall, and today not a single thing will get in the way of baking the perfect batch.

You’d ruined them the previous couple times, flour scattered all over the counters as if a tornado swept through. First, it was the wrong type of butter, then you set the timer wrong and they were a bit overbaked. Simple mistakes, but they change the entire outcome of the cookie. Itachi found you after the second time standing at the island, tears falling all over the ruined sweets.

Third times the charm, though.

The sound of soft slippers meeting hard wood fills the otherwise empty hallway, your palm lifting to rest at the top of your belly. Your hand follows the curve of it, ending at the underside as you journey slowly towards the kitchen.

Rounding the last corner, stepping into the kitchen with intention, you halt mid step when you notice you’re not alone. The outline of Itachi’s back greets you, long hair tied into a braid, flowing like a waterfall down to his waist. He’s standing at the counter fiddling with something you’re unable to see.

“So, you’ve escaped clan business for the afternoon?”

“Oh!” Itachi startles, jumping about a foot in the air. He whips around to face you, a mixing bowl cradled tight to his chest with one arm. “Goodness, you scared me!” Itachi places his free hand over his chest, settling his racing heart. “Yes, I’ve managed to excuse myself for the rest of the day,” he answers, glaring half heartedly.

You take a few steps closer, lips lifting in amusement. “That’s great, but what brings you to the kitchen?” You nod towards the mixing bowl in question. “It’s not often I find you here.”

His eyes flicker between you and the bowl. “I thought I’d attempt to bake cookies,” he explains, somewhat sheepish. “For you.”

Your eyebrows raise, cheeks heating up. “For me?”

Itachi nods, shifting to set the mixing bowl on the counter. “For you. For our baby,” he confirms. His expression is warm and words stick to the inside of your throat. “After the last time I’m convinced you’re in desperate need of my help.”

You ignore the insult to your baking skills, becoming a whirlwind of emotions as your eyes sting with oncoming tears. “Itachi!” You cry, surging forward to wind your arms around his waist, baby bump keeping you from fully connecting. “That’s so sweet!”

Your husband chuckles and hugs you in return, rubbing your upper back as he does. “I’m happy to do this for you. You’re growing our baby, you deserve to be waited on hand and foot.”

Itachi’s words continue to be confusing. They’re so sincere, so meaningful, and sometimes you convince yourself they’re could be more than friendship in your marriage. The threat of rejection, however, of crumbling your new life, squeezes your heart, and you stay silent instead of asking for more.

A moment passes before Itachi unravels from the hug, holding your shoulders and pushing you backwards, promising this time the cookies will be perfect.

And they are.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Fall has arrived in full force. With it comes gloomy skies, shorter days, and a sharp chill that bites at your cheeks and fingertips. Your hesitation to go on daily walks grows more powerful by the hour. Being six months pregnant takes it’s toll on your lower back and feet. The cold makes it a hundred times worse.

Sasuke’s been too busy to join you as of late. Itachi may be head of the clan but Sasuke is still saddled with his fair share of duties. So you’ve been going alone. The scenery is still beautiful, leaves coloring to burnt oranges and rustic reds — it’s just much more boring without your friend’s occasional commentary and snide remarks. Or the gossip he fills you in on.

Dusk is approaching within the next hour or so, and you’ve resigned yourself to the fact it’s better overall for your health and the baby’s if you don’t skip out on walking.

One more layer should suffice to fight off the chill, so you slip on an extra long sleeve underneath, finishing the outfit by zipping up a thick fluffy coat and adjusting a scarf around your neck.

The door slides shut behind you, feet guiding you in the direction of the well worn path you wander each day. Shivering, you stuff your hands in your pockets, taking only a handful of steps before a familiar voice calls out your name. Your head perks up, twisting left to see Itachi striding your way. His hair is windswept, a few strands whipping in front of his face, cheeks rosy from the cold.

He looks oh so handsome.

“Where are you off to?” Itachi asks when he gets close. The sweet smile he wears gives you the sensation that the clouds have parted and warm sun now shines on your face.

“I was just about to go for my walk.”

He hums, unable to hide the slight bitterness to his tone when he asks, “Without Sasuke?”

You laugh, amused, and nod. “Yes, he’s quite busy today.”

“I see.” He pauses. “Well, would you be opposed if I accompanied you and our baby girl instead? I am not fond of the idea of you two going alone,” he says, serious and steady.

“We’d love for you to join us.” It’s a conscious effort to speak through the butterflies in your belly. You turn and begin walking once more, Itachi falling in step beside you. “Besides, I believe Mio has missed you today, she settled down as soon as she heard your voice.”

“Just Mio? Nobody else?” Itachi teases, arm swaying with his footsteps, hand bumping against yours. Your heart thumps in your throat.

Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you will your cheeks not to flush. “Maybe I have too,” you say softly, the koi pond you and Sasuke visit often coming into view.

“I’ve missed you both,” he admits. Itachi’s hand keeps touching yours, and the urge to lace your fingers together is so strong it aches.

So you change the subject. “Do you mind if we sit for a moment? My back is starting to hurt.” You gesture towards the bench near the pond, altering your pathway.

“Of course. Do we need to return home? Are you able to continue walking?” Itachi arrives at the bench first, rounding it and waiting to offer you an arm to sit you down with ease.

“No, no I’m alright, Itachi,” you reassure, leaning back with a sigh. “I appreciate your concern. She just seems to grow bigger by the day and continuously play kickball against my ribs.”

Itachi laughs, sitting down beside you. He leaves enough space between you to be courteous. You wish he’d get closer, help you fight off the chilly wind.

There’s idle chatter detailing your days, Itachi asking what he needs to do next to help get Mio’s room ready. You get caught up on boring clan business. Spending any sort of quality time with Itachi, listening to the smooth, low cadence of his voice, drains the tension from your shoulders and fills you with light.

Too soon you rise from the bench to finish your walk, the sunset bleeding into the sky.

The silence on the way home is comforting. You’re able to enjoy Itachi’s presence next to you with no interruptions. His hand, as if it never ceased, continues its pattern of knocking into yours. As you’re about to shove your hand in your pocket to stop the torture he breaks the quiet.

“I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I cannot stop myself from wanting to hold your hand. Is that alright?”

When you look at him he’s already staring, undivided attention settled entirely on you, and it sends a shock down your spine. “I — yes. You don’t have to ask, I’d never be uncomfortable with that.”

Itachi hits you with another warm grin and your insides melt under the pressure. Slender fingers lace through yours, gently squeezing, and you wonder if Itachi notices the heavy beat of your heart through your fingers.

Conversation flows between you once more on the way home, and it’s not until later that evening you realize holding Itachi’s hand had chased off the bitter chill of the wind. You hadn’t felt cold at all.

“Your brother drives me crazy.”

You sit down next to Sasuke with a huff, couch creaking as Mio squirms in your arms. She reaches her tiny, chubby arms out for her uncle the moment she sees him, cooing in delight.

Sasuke snorts, sparing you a glance as he accepts the seven month old baby with ease. “My brother drives me crazy.” The smile on his face is genuine, eyes soft and happy as he says something unintelligible to his niece. “What did the princess do this time?” He doesn’t look at you while he speaks, distracted by Mio smacking his cheek.

For a moment all you can do is rub your eyes with the heels of your palms and sigh. You lower them to your lap, scanning the living room and all the baby toys scattered about, just begging to be tripped on.

You shift your gaze back to the adorable sight of your daughter and Sasuke. “Does Itachi love me?”

“Yes,” Sauske answers, tone suggesting you’re an idiot for thinking otherwise.

You frown and shove his shoulder. “Don’t say it like I’m stupid. I know Itachi loves me, but I’m asking if he’s in love with me.”

Sasuke’s shoulders tense up, eyeing you from his peripheral. “Are you in love with him?” He fires back. Mio leans forward and rests her face in the crook of his neck, chunky little fingers fisting his shirt as her eyes start to slip shut. She missed her afternoon nap.

“Sasuke!” You throw your hands up in the air. “You already know I am! Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”

“How should I know? I’m not Itachi’s keeper.”

“You’re his little brother.”

“Way to point out the fuckin’ obvious.”

You let out a frustrated noise and relent trying to squeeze the answer from him. He does this every time. Instead, you rest your temple on his shoulder, head heavy with sudden fatigue. Mio sleeps soundly on Sasuke’s chest.

“Whatever, don’t tell me.”

Sasuke sighs as if this the most irritating conversation he’s ever had the misfortune of being apart of. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I can’t just ask him,” you whine. “It’s so difficult to read him. His actions confuse me. Sometimes I swear he feels the same. Other times it’s as if we’ll never go further than friends, cursed to live as roommates.”

“Wow, you can’t read the queen of neutrality’s thoughts? I’m shocked. Truly.” Sasuke’s rolling his eyes, you’re sure of it.

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

A soft knock on the frame of the living room draws your attention, cutting off any snarky answer Sasuke could have replied with.

“Am I interrupting something?” Itachi asks, raising an eyebrow when you meet his sour gaze. He crosses his arms over his chest.

You lift your head off Sasuke’s shoulder with a yawn, shaking your head. “No,” you answer, pulling a leg up underneath you. “Sasuke’s being a dick, and Mio’s napping on said jerk’s chest because she missed her’s earlier.”

Itachi’s features smooth out, a hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “So everything is as usual then?”

“Hey!” Sasuke protests, loudly, and Mio stirs in his arms.

“Sasuke,” Itachi scolds, shooting him a stern look that he’s only putting on to get a rise out of his little brother. “Don’t wake my daughter, please.”

You join Itachi in picking on Sasuke. “Yeah Sasuke, quit being so loud. Haven’t you ever heard of an inside voice? You may be Mio’s favorite uncle now but you won’t be if you wake her up from her nap.”

Sasuke grinds his teeth together. He supports Mio’s bottom with one arm, hugs her tight to his chest with the other, and stands up. “Fuck off, I’m her only uncle. I’m taking your daughter and never coming back,” he threatens, striding forward and glaring at his brother as he passes him by.

You and Itachi share a grin. “Bring her back before her bedtime please!” Itachi calls out over his shoulder, the front door slamming shut after Sasuke. His pathetic threat is just an excuse to take Mio on a walk and show her the flowers once she wakes up, visit his Mother, and then return her before bedtime. It’s become a pattern.

Itachi steps closer and offers you a hand. You accept, letting him pull you to your feet. “Now that the little demon is occupied, interested in making dinner with me?” You start heading to the kitchen.

Itachi trails behind you. “Sasuke or Mio? They both share a demonic energy.”

You laugh, smiling at him over your shoulder. “I can’t argue with that. Although, I think Mio gets it from him.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.”

Itachi ends up cooking something while you watch. He told you he had a new recipe he wanted to try out and he looked so excited you couldn’t refuse.

Sasuke returns Mio, a little bundle of energy, back to you about an hour later.

Your husband joins you in giving her a bath and reading to her until she’s down for the night. Then the two of you linger in her doorway, your least favorite part of the evening upon you. The part that’s just past awkward as you trade goodnight’s with Itachi and retreat to separate bedrooms.

One day, you hope, Itachi will join you in your bed instead of leaving you to sleep alone.

It’s late in the afternoon on Mio’s first birthday when Shisui finds Itachi sulking.

The party is long over, sun shining bright in a blue, cloudless sky, and Itachi sits on the edge of his porch, feet tucked underneath himself. He watches his baby girl play with you and his little brother in the yard, careless and free. Mio squeals with laughter when a butterfly touches her hand, filling Itachi’s chest with affection.

Itachi notices Sasuke say something to you, making your head tilt back with a laugh. He’s out of earshot, unaware of what’s been said, but it brings a well known jealousy to the forefront. It’s become an old friend at this point.

Someone sits down beside Itachi with enough force that the wooden porch protests under them, a hand landing on his shoulder. Itachi holds in an exasperated sigh. He knows it’s Shisui without even looking.

“What’s with the kicked puppy expression? It’s unlike you to pout,” Shisui says, kicking his feet where they hang over the edge.

Itachi frowns and shakes Shisui’s hand from his shoulder. “That is not what I’m doing.”

“Okaayy,” he drags out the word. “So you’re jealous then, gotcha.” Shisui nods to himself.

Itachi’s eyebrow twitches. “Jealous of Sasuke? Why would I be jealous of my own little brother?”

Shisui snickers. “I didn’t even say his name, Itachi! And if you’re not, why are you staring at him with enough force to burn a hole into the side of his head?”

Itachi has no leg to stand on, caught red handed. “That’s, I’m not — I am not jealous of Sasuke, Shisui.”

“You’re lying Itachi. I know you too well, cousin,” Shisui teases, leaning in close to poke him in the cheek.

Itachi ignores the other man, staring without blinking as you stand up straight, Mio supported on your hip. You smile sweetly at him once he catches your gaze and his belly does flips. You whisper in your daughter’s ear and point at him. Mio grins, face lighting up, and reaches out for her daddy, oblivious to how far away he’s actually sitting.

Itachi’s breath catches, seeing the sun surround you with a warm glow, and he feels as though he’s never seen colors so vibrant and vivid before in his life. You hold the beauty of an Angel, and he’s so so lucky you’re his wife. The Mother of his child.

It doesn’t hit Itachi all at once. No, falling in love with you has crept up on Itachi over the past few years. Burrowing deep in his heart and growing like a well watered plant.

“Shisui,” he says softly, waiting for the other man to reply with a hum. “I’m in love with her.”

Shisui almost falls off the porch in shock. He knew Itachi was in love, he just never believed he’d confess to it out loud. “You haven’t been hiding that secret very well, cousin.” He bumps his shoulder playfully against Itachi’s. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What if it’s not reciprocated?”

Shisui’s laughter bursts from him. He holds his stomach and curls in half, creating such a spectacle that you and Sasuke look to them with concern. Itachi’s cheeks are surely flushed from embarrassment. He lifts one hand in a lame attempt to wave as Shisui sobers up.

You wave back, setting Mio in the ground. Sasuke holds one of her hands and you take the other, helping her walk across the grass to the porch. Itachi’s heart rate picks up, praying that Shisui doesn’t slip up and give him away.

As soon as you’re within reach Itachi slides off the porch and crouches down, arms open wide to accept Mio. She wiggles her hands free and reaches forward, closing the last tiny bit of distance with wobbly steps before falling into his chest. Itachi scoops her up with ease, rising to his full height.

“Hello my little cherry blossom,” he coos, resting his forehead on hers. She giggles and places her hands on his cheeks, squishy them together before she presses a kiss to his chin. Then Mio wraps her arms around his neck and pillows her cheek on his shoulder.

He loves her so much he could cry.

“She’s tired,” you comment, sending him warm smile. You place a hand on Itachi’s bicep and squeeze. “It’s been a long afternoon, I’m sure she’d benefit from a nap.”

“I could use a nap, I ate way too many sweets!” Shisui says, joining the small circle the four of you have formed.

“Like that’s a surprise,” Sasuke mumbles.

Shisui pouts. “Rude! Sasuke, you’re the one —,”

“Before this escalates further, I’m going to put Mio down for a nap,” Itachi cuts him off.

You crowd in close and kiss Mio on the forehead. “That’s a good idea, thank you. Sasuke is going to help me put away leftover food.” You grin at Itachi with mischief in your eye, grabbing Sasuke’s arm to tug him towards the sliding door, ignoring his complaints. Itachi laughs and watches with fondness as the two of you disappear inside.

“Don’t be so ignorant, Itachi.”

Itachi whips his head towards Shisui, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Pardon me?”

Shisui rolls his eyes, tries to hold back a smile, but fails, and pats Itachi on the back. “I said, don’t be so ignorant. She loves you too, you’d be blind not to see it. You’ve been waiting all this time, struggling to come to terms with your feelings. Don’t you realize she’s been waiting just as long? Suffering just as long while you get your shit together?”

“I suppose the thought didn’t occur to me,” he answers lamely, shifting his weight and readjusting his grip on a sleeping one year old.

“Itachi I love you, but you’re so dense sometimes. Tell her the truth. You can spend the rest of your life making up for it.”

Itachi is unsure of what to say after that, leaving Shisui in the yard to retreat inside and put Mio down for her nap. Shisui’s right, and Itachi is overwhelmed with the urge to….to do something.

You‘ll be sharing a bed soon enough, he promises himself that.

what do we think?? part three will be the conclusion, so hope you all are excited as i am!

little taglist for all my peeps who commented on part one! if i did not tag you it’s because i could not verify that you were over 18 and this part has some 18+ stuff in it.

regardless, i want to thank everyone so much for your love and comments! (ˆ ̳ , ̫ , ̳ˆ)

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

| @biashellandflyashell | @misslovingpearl | @kurokawaia | @notgoodforlife | @lamplitesatnight | @mutsu422 | @melancholyshadow |

[captain-huggy-bear]

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nudity but in a totally non-sexual way (you share a bath)

Summary: You watch Clayton take a puck to the face, suffice to say you are very much worried for your boyfriend at the end of the game.

Notes: Y'know someone needs to psychoanalyse why I thought it was so hot that he took a puck to the face, got 12 stitches, came out, played and still scored? Someone want to explain that one to me?

I've not written Clayton before but @wannabehockeygf has me hooked so...I hope this is okay?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"...that one up high caught Keller, let's hope Clayton is okay...he took that one right up in the face and he's headed to the room for some stitches I would imagine..."

"Keller's girlfriend has stood straight up from her seat, clearly not happy with what she's seen."

"Can you blame her? Keller's just taken a puck straight to the face and I imagine he's going to have more than a couple of stitches to fix that..."

It's an instinctive reaction really, to jump out of your seat at the way the puck soars into Clayton's face, the way he spins and falls to the ice. The blood that you can see pooling underneath his hand as he holds it tight to his eye and brow.

You've seen him get hurt before, seen him take hits to the boards, hits from other players, pucks to the ribs, sticks to the legs, but this...fuck, this was dangerous, this was scary. You're thankful for your seat overlooking the tunnel, thankful that you can reach a hand down as he makes his way off the ice, that even as he clutches a towel to his face to mop up the blood and try to stem the bleeding, he sees you, and reaches out briefly to touch your fingers, an attempt to reassure you that he's okay. That he'll be fine because fuck he knows you're probably freaking out about it.

Then all you can do is sit back down in your seat and wait. Waiting for him to come back out made you feel sick, stomach tied in knots, leg bouncing up and down in anxious impatience. Was he concussed? Was he in need of hospital? Or would it just be a few stitches to stop the bleeding? Had it done any serious damage to his skull? Was he actually okay? Was it just a flesh wound or something deeper?

It was taking too long, far too long, your eyes not even on the game, but on the tunnel waiting for him to reappear, watching people come and go back and forth each one not Clayton. Still you waited for that reappearance.

And reappear he did. Brow coated in blood, 12 stitches holding his face together, swollen, bruising planning it's spots as he stops at your section, looking up at you from the tunnel as you look down.

Your hand reaches out again and this time he holds it properly, fingers intertwining with yours to give your palm a tight squeeze, his ring digging into your skin slightly from how firmly he grips you. Like he needs to reassure you he's still strong, still good even as a blood drip starts to slide from the fresh stitches towards his eye.

"I'm okay, sweet girl," His voice is rough from overuse on the ice and he doesn't linger long, but it's enough to reassure you that he's at least fine, even if his face looks like he's been through the wars.

It's enough for you in that moment, enough for you to let his hand go, to watch him make his way to the bench even as that sick feeling still permeates your gut.

You spend the entirety of the second period watching him like a hawk, assessing to see if he should actually be out on the ice or not, relieved to see him skating well, stable, sturdy. Despite the physical wound he doesn't seem unwell and that is enough to settle you down a little, enough for you to start to enjoy the third period.

An enjoyment that is made 10 times better by Clay's empty net goal firmly confirming Utah's victory over the Winnipeg Jets. The moment the period is over and the players have left the ice you don't waste much time before making your way down to the locker rooms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Clayton to clean up and change.

He's out last, Kess stops to tell you he's just getting some of his stitches redone, and while you appreciate the heads up from the taller man it actually only serves to make you more anxious to see your boyfriend.

When he walks out he looks like he's been through the wars or been mugged badly or had a bad boxing match. New stitches means no quick shower, no water on them for at least a day and he still looks bloody, sweaty and definitely not okay. You can't imagine how uncomfortable he was putting his suit back on when he couldn't even have a proper wash, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his skin. Clayton's always been a stickler for cleanliness and you know he probably feels disgusting, probably hates it almost as much as the injury itself.

"Shit, Clay..." You gasp at seeing his face up close, his eye is bruising into a proper shiner, closing a little from all the swelling that's happening. The skin around starting to go a deep purple. There's an array of angry stitches holding his skin together, 12 to be exact, lined up neatly but clearly the only thing stopping more blood from falling down his face. They've clearly tried to clean as much of the old blood up as possible, but there's still enough left over that he looks rough around the edges.

"Right in the money maker, huh? It's okay if you think I'm ugly now, baby.." He's joking around as he steps into your space, trying to take that god awful look off your face. You look like you've seen a ghost, like you might be sick.

"Clay..." You reach for him as he leans over you, one arm leaning against the wall by your head, while your own hands cup his cheeks tilting his head so you can get a better look at his stitches.

"Sorry, sorry, just tryin' to get my girl to smile s'all..."

"I know..." He lets you get your fill, moving his head in whatever direction you tilt it while his free hand grips your hip. He wants you to believe he's fine but he knows you won't believe him, and in truth it fucking hurts taking a puck to the face. He's surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He feels a little sick, very gross and his face aches like nothing else.

"Clay...What do you need?" You, he thinks, just this. Just the soft way your thumbs brush his cheeks and tenderness with which you cradle his face, like he's not 170lbs of hockey player. He's not delicate and he knows that, you know that, but sometimes you treat him that way and it's nice sometimes. Nice to feel cared for.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead lets out a big sigh, "I need to go home, wash at least my body because I actually feel fucking gross..." He's still sweaty and he knows he needs help washing his hair without getting water on his stitches.

"Okay, I'm driving." You're reaching for his keys in pocket as quick as a whip, but he's quicker. Clayton's hand wrapping entirely around your wrist and stopping it from delving further into his pocket.

"You're not driving my car, baby. No." There's no amount of injury that could bring him to let you drive when that's his job and the grin he gives you is the sort you give a child who thinks they know better. It makes your eyes narrow.

"Clay, you took a puck going like 80 miles per hour to the face..."

"And I can still drive, and you are still and forever my passenger princess." It's not that he doesn't trust you to drive. You're a pretty decent driver, but that's not the dynamic you have. He drives you around. Always. If he can't then you drive yourself, but if both of you are in a car together? He's driving and you get to sit, relax and look pretty.

"You're impossible." You roll your eyes but concede defeat, pulling your hand from his pocket even as he continues to grip your wrist like now that he's got it the thought of letting go is preposterous.

"Impossibly handsome." Clay's hand moves from your wrist to slip into your own, fingers twisting together as he pulls away from the wall with you. His other hand tossing his car keys about with a jingling sound.

"Impossible hard headed."

"Ouch, that hurts, sweet girl." He finally gets a smile from you at that and that's all he wants as the two of you walk hand in hand to his car. If he's got to deal with stitches, bruising, swelling, then at least he gets to see you smile.

"Did it hurt more than the puck you took to the face tonight?"

"You're determined to not let me forget this aren't you?" He asks as he opens the passenger side door, watching you slip into the pristine seats because he'd be damned if he ever let his car fall into disarray.

You're quiet for a few moments as he leans over you to pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. It's the proximity of him to you that's probably the only reason he actually hears your next whispered words as you look at your hands in your lap.

"...I was really worried, Clay..."

Clayton sighs heavily, large hand cupping your cheek until you look at him. You grip his wrist, fingers playing with the array of bracelets he always has there.

"I know, baby, but I'm okay. I promise. Got some stitches, no concussion, I'll be a little ugly for a bit but..." All Clay ever wants is for you to be happy, the worst part about getting hurt is that he knows you're stressing about. He's fine, but he knows he looks like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and he'll probably look like that for awhile. He also knows you worry, and you'll worry over him until he looks completely back to normal.

"You could never be ugly," He smiles at the way you frown at him, like it's the worst thing he could do right now to insult himself, "You're just fishing for compliments." Your eyes soften under his smile and the frown loses some of its bite.

"You're the one biting, sweet girl."

"Shut up and drive us home."

"As you wish." Clayton presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling out of the passenger side and closing the door on you. He's quick to make his way round to the driver's side and even quicker to get the car started so he can start driving back to the house.

You watch him the whole time, eyes fliting from the stitches in his eyebrow to the way his left eye is swelling to the point you don't know if he'll be able to see out of it in a minute if you don't get ice on it. Clayton chooses to ignore the staring, hand reaching out to rest on your thigh, rubbing warm strokes across it as he drives, like always.

When you pull up you wait, like always, in your seat because Clay complains if he can't open the door for you and unbuckle your seatbelt. So you wait and let him do it, just as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulders and led you inside as if you're the one that needs the TLC and not him.

You only briefly watch him struggle out of the suit he'd worn to the game before stepping in to help. The medical team not letting him wash had meant his shirt and trousers stuck to him from all the sweat left on his skin, and the extra pair of hands was helpful as he shrugged off the button up he'd been wearing.

He lets you lead him into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching as you fuss around the bath tub. You're running him a bath even though you know he prefers showers because there's no way those stitches are staying dry in the shower, not with his ridiculous need for the most intense waterfall shower on earth.

Still, Clayton watches as you try to make the bath more enticing. Copious amounts of bubble bath, the sort that's designed for sore muscles, being thrown in, water running warm, but not too hot because he doesn't like his bath water to be as hot as the fires of hell. Unlike you. But, he draws the line at you helping him into water, it's his face that hurts not his legs, shrugging your hands away with an eyeroll when you go to reach to help him.

"I can get in on my own, baby."

He doesn't let the fussing annoying him because he knows you fuss out of concern and that any amount of fussing is still your attention on him. Fussing means you love him and if you took a puck to the face he knows he'd be fussing over you too.

You watch as Clayton eases himself into the water, a sigh rippling out from him as he slides into the warmth. His chains hitting the water because he'd never wear anything that wasn't solid enough not to tarnish over time, expensive taste as always. You watch the way he closes his eyes and just relaxes for a minute, skin turning slightly flush under the warmth of the water, neck pulled taut as his head tips back.

"You want me to help wash your hair?"

"Please, baby." It's sighed out, eyes still closed and you kneel next to the tub without a second thought, urging him to move forward and lean back until his hair touches the water.

You're careful about it, slowly wetting his hair, trying to avoid getting water on his stitches and while he might not want to be fussed over, this though? This Clayton can't help but love. The way your fingers thread through his brunet strands, how you stop occasionally to scratch at his scalp, the feeling of sweat and grime falling away? This is pretty much heaven.

You huff a laugh when Clayton groans a little while you massage shampoo into his roots. The pressure you apply making him sigh and groan like you're relieving knots in his back and it's sweet, how he can relax into this, into you, when he's normally the one giving and doesn't necessarily prefer to receive the care.

"You good, Clay?"

"Mmmm...." He hums and you smile down at him, the way he leans back into your hands, how his eyes remain closed, the content little smile on his face that just slightly shows his teeth.

You take extra care as you rinse the shampoo from his hair thoroughly, avoiding his stitches and his eyes as you do so, before getting him to sit up a little so you can place some conditioner on the ends.

"Get in with me..." His eyes are heavy lidded, like he doesn't quite have the energy to open them the entire way, a wet hand reaching out to grip your fingers, tugging lightly.

"Clay, there's barely any room left." His legs take up half the tub, you're a little concerned that you plus water displacement will result in water all over the floor of the bathroom. Another injury waiting to happen when one of you inevitably slips on wet tile.

"Please, just want to hold you for a bit, no funny business, sweet girl, promise." His cheeky little smirk that shows the dimples on one side of his mouth doesn't exactly fill you with confidence in his words, but the water is still warm and there's something always enticing about Clay, he has a way of convincing you to do something even if you shouldn't.

"Mmm, sounds likely..."

"Seriously, just want to hold you...I'm an injured man..." He pulls the guilt trip card, biting on his bottom lip. Something which would have looked sexier if half his face wasn't swollen up like a balloon. Still, you've never been good at saying no to Clayton even if you probably should from time to time.

"Fine..." You sigh, pretending to be reluctant even as you strip your clothes off, ignoring the way his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and step into the bath water with him.

It's a little tight, the water rising to levels that are mildly concerning before the overflow drain does the job of removing the excess water. Your legs twine with Clayton's and his arms slide around your waist until he can pull you comfortably back to lay against him, your back to his chest. It's funny, how you can be completely naked and feel completely comfortable like this with someone, every little touch is comforting rather than sexual, every kiss to your shoulder an attempt to be connect to you rather than start something intimate.

"Clay?" You wince out, the sensation of metal digging into your back causing you to squirm slightly in his lap, water sloshing nearer to the sides of the tub.

"Mmm...?"

"Can...can you move your chains? They're digging into my shoulder."

"Shit, sorry, baby." He's quick to do so, the chains being thrown over his shoulder and out of the way until settling against him is more comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest meeting your back in a rhythm that helps any residual anxiety from the events of the day melt away.

"You comfy, sweet girl?" He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile into it, humming as you lean as much of your weight back into him as you can.

"Yeah, you?"

"Mmm, might have to stay here..." He's tracing circles on you tummy, a series of circles that meet in a variety of patterns that remind you of crop circles from all those conspiracy theory and unsolved mystery shows Clay likes to watch when he can't sleep. Every few seconds a kiss lands somewhere else, whether your temple, your cheek, your neck or your shoulder. Each is quick and soft, but no less delightful. It's all so soft, the world feels like its humming a little.

"The water'll get cold."

"Good thing I run warm..." He tries to argue with you, like always, a sassy little remark to entice you to stay in the moment even if neither of you can.

"Clay, we're not staying in here all night, we'll die of pneumonia or something."

"Would be worth it." He grins into your shoulder, eyes relaxing when you reach a hand back to scratch his scalp and play with his hair. He's tired, so fucking tired and his face still aches like a bitch but this is nice, this so nice.

"We should really get some ice on your face, try and take some of the swelling down."

"Do we have to?" The idea of putting ice on his face right now is anything but appealing, but he knows you're right. His face is already pretty swollen and bruised and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't look after it.

"Do you want to be able to see from your left eye in the morning?"

"Good point, just...5 more minutes, baby?"

"5 more minutes." You let him have his 5 more minutes and then some, using the time to get clean yourself and rinse conditioner from his hair before the two of you stand from the bath after the water has cooled significantly.

He's sat crossed legged on the bed in a cosy hoodie and boxers by the time you've put together a makeshift icepack, ice piled up into a ratty old tea towel you got when you first moved out.

The look he gives the icepack is nothing short of disdainful, a glare that's combined with a pout of his top lip like the icepack has personally offended him already when it hasn't even touched him. If anyone should glare it's you because your hands are getting cold.

"The only way that is touching my face is if you're sat in my lap, sweet girl." He pats his thighs like its a given, like you'll just go over and plonk yourself down without question.

"You already agreed to ice your face, Clayton John Keller." Your hands find your hips, a stance Clayton calls your mom stance and it's extra apt when you're using his full name like that. Not that that deters him from his goal of having you wrapped up on his lap because that's the only thing that might make ice to the face semi-bearable.

"Only if you sit in my lap."

"That is not the original agreement."

"Yeah, well, trade talks, deals get renegotiated all the time." He shrugs with a smirk, pulling out the dimples because he knows you struggle to be stubborn when he does that and as much as you hate it...he's fucking charming and it works. You're sighing and stomping over like you're not totally endeared by him, letting him pull you up and onto his lap without any real protest until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your butt sat perfectly in the hollow created by him sitting crisscrossed.

"You are incredibly difficult to care for, Mr Keller." You grumble as you cup his face with one hand and raise the makeshift icepack to his eye with the other.

"Can you really deny an injured man small comforts like his girlfriend in his lap?" His smirk only widens until it doesn't, a hiss leaving his lips at the way it pulls on his stitches as his eyebrow moves.

"Mmm, you're ridiculous." You're smiling when you say it and that alone lets Clayton know that you're enjoying this as much as him.

He hisses again when the cold finally touches his skin, almost jerking back but your hand on his cheek stops him from going very far. The icepack is cold, so fucking cold, and he knows you're going to force it to stay there until you're satisfied that some of the swelling has gone down. You're cruel like that.

Clayton's hands fall to your hips, fingers clenching and gripping onto you, not painfully, but firmly enough that you know he hates this, hates the sensation of ice on his skin even if there's a tea towel in between.

You try to make it as bearable as possible, pressing kisses to the right side of his face even as the left faces the terrible ordeal of icing. The kisses have Clayton humming, hands stroking from your hips to your waist and back down again in a rhythmic motion that brings back memories of every make out session you've ever had with the man, and that you wouldn't be having until you were certain his face wasn't swollen and bruised.

When you finally pull the icepack away his face is less swollen, eye still partially closed, but no less bruised, you know the purple is going to eventually fade to a horrible yellow. You throw the damp tea towel into the laundry basket from where you're sat, excellent aim that has you letting out a little cheer that gets Clayton smiling up at you.

"Thank you, sweet girl, always taking care of me..." He presses a kiss to your lips, short and sweet, only because you refuse to let him stay there too long, determined to let the man rest.

"Yeah, well, you're always taking care of me too."

[gracie-eilish]

billie x reader with a scalp massager 😭

-weirdo💙

an: no because i fear i might melt away into a puddle of magical lovey dovey sparkleness if this ever happened.

thank you for the request love bug☺️😘

an: also pls ignore the formatting! i typed half of this on my laptop but then it died so i used my phone for the other half and now the spacing is weird. idk. the story is still there lol!!🤷‍♀️🩷

You sat on the couch in Billie’s studio, half-watching the soft glow of the lights reflect off her focused expression as she worked on her new song. She had her headphones on, brows furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the volume, then leaned in to tweak something on the keyboard. Watching her in her element was mesmerizing, but after a while, you started feeling a bit… ignored.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, hoping she’d hear it. No response. You stretched your legs out, tapped your fingers against the couch, and sighed again, even louder this time. Still nothing. Finally, you got up and walked over, poking her shoulder.

She pulled one ear of her headphones off, glancing up at you with a small smile. “Yes?” she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes as if she already knew what was coming.

You put on your best pout. “I’m bored,” you whined, leaning against the back of her chair. “And you’re ignoring me.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she turned back to her computer, typing out a few more notes. “Baby, I just need a few more minutes, okay? Almost done.”

You sighed dramatically again. “But that’s what you said ten minutes agooooooooo.” You circled your arms around her shoulders from behind, resting your chin on top of her head. “Can’t I just steal you away for a little while?”

She chuckled, patting your arm. “Give me five more minutes, I promise. Then I’m all yours.”

Unconvinced, you flopped onto the couch, giving her your best puppy eyes from across the room. “What if I get lonely over here?” you called out, grinning.

Billie finally looked over, her face softening as she took in your playful pout. “Oh my gosh, you are too much,” she said, shaking her head. She turned back to her work, but you could see her struggling to hold back her smile.

You decided to up the stakes. You shuffled off the couch, tiptoeing up behind her before wrapping your arms around her shoulders again, this time leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. “How’s it going, genius?” you whispered, trying to sound innocent.

A tiny blush crept onto her cheeks. She let out a sigh, finally giving in. “You’re really not gonna let me finish, are you?”

You shook your head, grinning as you held her a little tighter. “Nope. And you love it,” you teased, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

She laughed, finally spinning her chair to face you. “Alright, you win.” She grabbed your hand, tugging you closer as she settled her hands around your waist, pulling you down onto her lap. “Attention granted, happy now?”

“Yeah,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her neck and nuzzling into her shoulder. Her hands held you close, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

“My head kinda hurts tho,” you grumbled quietly, with a pout.

She tilted her head, looking at you with that familiar, loving sparkle in her eyes.

Her cheeks flushed, as she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to yours. “Alright, little attention-seeker,” she teased between kisses. “What should we do now? Why is your head bothering you?”

You hummed thoughtfully, snuggling closer. “Can we go upstairs maybe?”

Billie hummed in amusement, she knew what you wanted now. And she was fairly certain your head didn’t actually hurt. But your little pout and puppy eyes were drawing her in.

“Mkayyy, sure babygirl,” she squinted teasingly. “My poor baby, her head just hurts so bad we have to go upstairs.” She sighed out dramatically while scooping you up bridal style and headed upstairs.

You nuzzled your head into her neck further, smiling victoriously.

Once you got upstairs Billie plopped you into the bed before heading into the bathroom to grab something.

While she was gone, you got yourself comfy on the bed, tucking yourself under the mountain of blankets and fluffing the pillows to your liking, but quickly flopping back down when Billie re-entered the room. She just chuckled lowly and made her way to the bed, slipping in next to you.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer so your head rested on her tummy so she had access to your scalp.

You were practically purring as Billie started moving the little scalp massager on your head. Softly and slowly, making sure not to scratch or poke you. After all your head did hurt just so badly… ;)

You nuzzled your head closer into her tummy, to where you could perfectly hear her heartbeat. You closed your eyes and let the sensation take over.

“Feels good, doesn’t it mama?” Billie chuckled at your blissed out expression, eyes half open and a sleepy smile on your lips.

“Mmm hmmm…” you mumbled, barely able to make a coherent sentence.

She pulled you a bit closer while she continued to move the massager around, hitting all the spots you needed. She knew she had been successful when your eyes had shut and your little snores actually sounded like purrs.

Slowly she removed the massager from your hair, not wanting to poke you, before snuggling in herself and joining you in sleep.

“Why’d you stop?” Your tiny voice broke the silence, making Billie giggle.

“I’m sorry my little kitty, I thought you were asleep,” she said with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resuming her little scalp massage.

She smiled, pulling you close as you nestled into her warmth, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. “You’re so clingy sometimes, you know that?” she whispered, though her tone was full of affection.

You smirked, running your up and down her arm. “Yep. You love it, though.”

Billie’s arms tightened around you. “I really do,” she said softly.

[grandline-fics]

The quote "No, don't give me those puppy-dog eyes!" with Trafalgar Law and possibly with gn!reader? (If not, then afab!Reader is fine too!)

Thank you. ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: “No! Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes!”

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 750

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I struggled a lot with coming up with a situation for Law and this prompt but I hope I was able to bring something together to your liking. Hope you all enjoy and thank you all for your support

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

“Law?” Law’s back went rigid at the sound of your voice drifting towards him. He knew that lilt, that almost innocent call, searching for him and the call a precursor to hear his response in order to gauge his mood before speaking what it was you truly wanted from him. To anyone else that would seem considerate, given how busy he was being both Captain and doctor for the ship. But to Law when he heard your call it set him on edge because he never knew what to expect. He heard the soft knock on his door and braced himself. Slowly he looked up just as your head poked into the doorway. Your bright gaze met his and you smiled. “Law? You busy?”

“I’m researching the island we’re heading to.” Law began carefully, watching as you came further into the room, letting the door shut behind you. He kept his eyes on you, taking in your soft smile and slow movements towards his desk. Lightly he cleared his throat and briefly tightened his hold on the book lying open in front of him, trying his best not to lose track of his work when you were around. “And after that I was to check on Bepo since he’s got the navigation charts.” You stopped at the side of his desk and nodded, lips pursing at his words. “What did you need?”

“Not need really but…” You began, reaching over to curl your finger around his hand that still held the book on the desk. At your touch Law immediately reciprocated by entwining his fingers with yours. He knew what was coming when you let out a small sigh before continuing. “If you weren’t busy I was wondering if I could get a hug?”

Law let out a small huff of amusement and got to his feet, his smile growing when you immediately closed the distance to wrap your arms around him, your body relaxing more when his arms pulled you closer. He knew he’d been busy lately and hated how his relationship with you had to be made less of a priority. The two of you only got to see each other at meals and at nighttime but in those moments you were both either surrounded by the rest of the crew or so tired you both barely got to give the other a goodnight kiss before immediately falling asleep. Now that he was holding you again, he was reluctant to pull away but he still had a lot more research to do. 

Squeezing you one more time and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, Law made a move to let you go and return to his desk only to stop when your arms tightened and you shook your head against his chest. Law all but kicked himself for not seeing this coming. One of you had to be strong, and unfortunately for him, it had to be his task. Gently Law rubbed your back and gently spoke your name only to sigh when you let out a grumble against him. “C’mon just another couple of hours and then I’m all yours. Okay?”

“Law?” He flinched at that same innocent tone and slowly looked down just as you peered up at him, unleashing the full power of your stare, compelling and fierce. 

“No! Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes!” Law all but groaned down at you, unable to look away. How did you make your eyes shine like that in moments like these when you wanted your own way. Worse still he knew his resolve was crumbling faster and this was only going to go one way. 

“Please just a little longer?” You asked, attacking the final flimsy thread of Law’s restraint with your softly spoken request. “Five minutes and then I’ll let you work?” Law bit the inside of his mouth and cursed himself for being so weak for you. Immediately he used his shambles to take you both to the sofa in the room and pulled you close, unable to stop his own smile from growing when you beamed up at him happily before you got cosy in his arms. With a content sigh you nuzzled in close and absently wondered if you’d be able to stretch out this cuddle with your boyfriend a little longer than your previously requested five minutes. If any of the past times were anything to go by then yes, yes you could and you definitely would.

——————————————-

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[triplefrontierbabe]

2 Hands Lando Norris Imagine

smau linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: suggestive content, language

a/n: this is part of a request paired with a smau, linked above

Ask any woman what their favorite part of a man is and she will most likely say his hands. There’s just something so innocently sensual about man hands, especially if they’re the hands of a racing driver.

It’s no secret that using your significant other as inspiration for your work is one of the highest forms of flattery, especially when it comes to art. And ever since you met Lando Norris, he has been your muse for your work. Every song somehow suddenly was about him, he’s all you thought about. Now that your second world tour has come to an end it’s the perfect time to get back in the studio and you have the perfect idea of what to do.

To be honest, one of the first things you noticed about Lando was his hands and how they looked like they were carved from marble. The mere sight of him holding a coffee cup made your mind wander like no other. All you could think of was how his hands looked on your body and how he would touch you with such gentleness and care. Occasionally you’d sneak a photo of his hands while you were around him. Soon enough he realized the obsession of his hands that you had developed.

One night you and Lando were heading out for a nice dinner when you pulled out your phone to take a photo of you two in the elevator mirror. Lando immediately grabbed your phone out of your hands and moved his hand from your hips to the front of your stomach, and dangerously low might you add. You blushed at his actions, knowing your not so secret obsession had been found out.

“I know you like them.” Lando said cheekily handing the phone back to you as your face broke out in a blush yet again.

“Can you blame me though?” You asked, grabbing his right hand and examining the rings he had on. Those rings were another weakness of yours. The way the cool metal clashed with your burning skin made your whole body shiver. His hands were going to be the death of you.

“Write a song, it’ll last longer.” He responded with a mischievous smile as the elevator door opened. You looked over your shoulder at him and rolled your eyes.

“You know I just might, Norris.” You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Atta girl.” He said laying a light smack on your ass which earned a whispered scold from you.

A song about his hands is exactly what you wrote. The writing process for this song was probably the fastest you had ever written a song in your entire life. Your producer was shocked when you got to the studio and had to make minor changes to the lyrics, it was practically perfect– like Lando’s hands.

While Lando was halfway across the world for a race you facetimed him to play a demo of the song for him.

“You mean it?” He asked, looking at your face on his screen with a look of disbelief.

“Every word.” You simply replied, giving Lando a sly smile.

“What about a music video?” Lando inquired, shifting in his seat.

“Okay, hear me out” you began “I was thinking about incorporating cars into it somehow, maybe a McLaren or something.”

“A McLaren, huh?”

“I dunno, just a thought. Could be a fun little easter egg.” You responded by shrugging your shoulders while stealing a glance at his hands that were barely in sight on the phone.

Before you knew it music video rehearsals had arrived. On your first day of rehearsal you walked into the studio to see a box wrapped in bright orange- or papaya- wrapping paper with a big blue bow on top. There was a card attached that read ‘although this isn’t a sports car, i hope this gives you some inspiration ;) -4’. Lando had gifted you one of those battery operated kids’ McLaren F1 cars.

Another month had passed of working on 2 Hands but it was finally ready to be promoted, and so was your relationship with Lando. Since you started dating him, small easter eggs of your relationship had been sprinkled throughout your instagram posts.

But the post you made announcing that you had new music coming out, you decided to be bold. You included a picture of you on the toy car that had Lando’s number on the front. But the kryptonite of the post was the last picture which was a closeup of Lando with his hands on his helmet with his hand veins on full display. You had spent hours of looking through social media for the perfect photo of his hands, many thanks to the thousands of other girls who were just as enamored with his hands as you were.

The minute you posted, your phone was blowing up with countless fans speculating a relationship between you and the famed driver but more so, the attention was on his hands like you wanted it to be.

Abu Dhabi rolled around which was a big weekend for the both of you. Lando won the race, McLaren won the Constructors’ Championship and 2 Hands was released. You were with Lando at the hotel basking in his victorious weekend and listening to your new song. It was a perfect weekend and you couldn’t have imagined it to be any other way.

“I fucking love this song.” Lando said, grabbing you by the waist giving you a deep kiss. “But I love you way more.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Lan.” You replied, raking your hands through Lando’s curly hair. “I love how everyone loves your hands too. Did you know there’s pinterest boards dedicated to your hands?”

“Of course there are.” He responded by throwing his hand back in laughter. This moment was perfect, just being in the same room as him celebrating your accomplishments together.

“But, I’m the only one that knows what they feel like.” You said with a wink.

“Well, look at you Miss Possessive.”

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @r0nnsblog @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you

[ellesreids]

warm reception — s. reid

you finally meet some of spencer's colleagues in an unconventional way. very heavily implied towards earlier seasons reid.

──── ୨୧ ────

It's been an exhaustingly busy day; the team was working a local case, meaning no long-distance traveling was required, but that didn't make the case itself any easier. They weren't very close to a solid profile, and it felt like the unsub's MO changed with every attack.

The most recent has been at a university not far from headquarters, a young woman found dead inside the main quad. It was also the same university you went to, and if that wasn't already enough to unnerve Spencer, you not answering his calls were close to pushing him over the edge.

Spencer feels like he's been on his feet the whole day, and he feels like he hasn't been much help to anyone with his mind wholly preoccupied by his concern for you. He wondered if you were safe, if you were the one that discovered the body, if you were maybe close to the victim.

The team had some of the victim's friends and other witnesses brought in for questioning, and while they were busy with that, Spencer had been quietly working on the geographical profile to try and pinpoint where the unsub might strike next. His attention is drawn from the map in front of him when he hears his name called, only to find you standing next to Morgan, seemingly making your way from one of the interrogation rooms.

He drops everything curtly before making his way to you, quickly giving you a once over, and once he sees no visible damage, he calms down a bit. It doesn't completely eliminate the nerve wrecking anxiety, but it gives him some peace of mind that you atleast hadn't been hurt.

"Hey, are you okay? What are you doing here?" he rushes out, not really giving you time to process his questions. "I'm okay," you breathe, sparing him a small smile you hoped looked somewhat reassuring, "I wasn't at the crime scene, I was only brought in for questioning because I was one of Kathy's long term lab partners. Nothing serious I suppose," you add, sparing Morgan a look, who was still standing next to you and silently observing the scene unfolding infront of him.

"I'm sorry, you two know each other?" he asks, looking at you and then Spencer with a raise of his eyebrows. You nodded once his eyes were on you again, suddenly shy under his questioning gaze. "We're dating," you said with a small smile, watching as the shock took over Morgan's whole face, from his eyebrows shooting up into the sky to his mouth hanging slightly agape at your words.

"Dating, huh?" he asked, watching as you nodded again. "Well, how come you never told us you had a pretty girl waiting for you at home, Reid?" he asked, attention back on the now furiously blushing young man. "It's— it's fairly new," he stuttered, trying his best to look collected, and failing miserably. "I was going to tell you, eventually."

Spencer was right, the two of you had only been dating for a little less than two months, and as selfish as it may sound, he was planning on keeping you to himself for a little longer. Morgan shook his head in understanding and slight disbelief, a gentle hand coming up to pat your back. "Well, it's nice to finally meet pretty boy here's girlfriend, even under the circumstances," he said, and you hummed in agreement, giving him a warm smile.

"Are my ears deceiving me or did I just hear you refer to this young lady as Reid's girlfriend?" a bubbly voice came seemingly out of nowhere as Penelope appeared next to Spencer, curious eyes drifting over to you and Morgan. "You heard right," he smiled, "this is—"

"Penelope Garcia," she interjects, shaking your hand, and you notice how everything about her is so vibrant. From her prettily painted nails, to the colorful frames of her glasses and the many statement pieces that adorned her, like the bows and the chunky jewelry. She was like the embodiment of sunshine.

"Gosh, you're gorgeous! It is so nice to meet you, even if I'm just now finding out about you," she said, side eyeing Spencer, who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. "We should totally go out for drinks some time though, a formal introduction is way overdue," she added very matter-of-factly.

"I agree," you smiled, already taking a liking to her sweet and bubbly personality. "I'd love to hang out and get to know Spencer's colleagues."

"I'm already excited!" she said, bracelets chiming as she clapped her hands together. "Oh! We should have a girls night! You'll love Elle and JJ, we could—"

"Okay, I think we should give these lovebirds some space, babygirl. You can plan your girl's night some other time," Morgan chirped in, already throwing his arm around Garcia and leading her away. "You'll be okay seeing her out, right Reid?" he asked and Spencer nodded, already leading you to the door with a hand to the small of your back.

"They seem nice," you said, once you were out of earshot, hovering around the exit not yet ready to leave yet. "They are nice," Spencer smiled before his face morphed into an unreadable expression. "I hope you don't think I was trying to hide you from them," he spoke softly, "I really was going to tell them about you when the time was right."

"I understand," you smiled, squeezing his upper arm affectionately, "I am glad I finally got to meet them though. Some of them at least." He smiled at that, nodding as if deep in thought. The flurry of movement behind him caught your attention, making you giggle to yourself at the sight. "I think you're needed back at your desk," you said, prompting Spencer to turn around swiftly, scared that it might be Gideon or Hotch waiting for him. It wasn't, but it was a group of very curious agents gathering around his desk in hopes of catching another glimpse of the mystery girl.

You recognized Penelope, who seemed to be in the middle of telling a very interesting story to the blonde and brunette ladies that stood either side of her. The brunette's eyes caught yours, her sparing you a shy smile at being caught before she was swiftly dispersing everyone away from Spencer's desk and back to their respective stations.

"I'll see you tonight," you said, bringing Spencer's attention back to you. When you saw the coast was clear, non of his colleagues in close range anymore, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the way his ears tinged pink almost immediately, making you smile. He only nodded in reply, giving you a tight lipped smile and seeing you off with a small wave which you returned eagerly.

[synvil]

say you love me // matt sturniolo + chris sturniolo

synopsis : not saying “i love you” back to your bfs, a tiktok trend.

tiktok trends masterlist !

matt sturniolo (☆´3｀)

‘i’m abt done here, so ill pick up some food for us and be home in like 10 mins.’

matt was currently out doing some errands and such, and is in the middle of texting you as he prepares to leave and head home, letting you know the plan.

you respond back fairly quickly, a smile lacing on your lips as you decide to mess with him a little. ‘okayy, sounds good. see u soon :)’

your text causes the boy to smile lightly and he buckles his seatbelt, texting back. ‘i love you, angel’

‘mmh!’

you can’t help the giggles that escape you as he furrows his brows at the screen and sits in the car, staring at the phone in his hand as he tries again. ‘i love u [name]’

‘yup! be safee’

within seconds, your phone suddenly begins to vibrate, signaling that matt was calling. stifling a laugh, you clear your throat and answer. “yeah babe?”

“[name], what’s wrong? did i do something?” the immediate concern in his voice nearly causes you to give in as you purse your lips and feel your chest warm. “what do you mean?”

matt frowns as he leans back in his seat and crosses an arm over his chest. “you aren’t saying it back. what did i do?”

“awh, honey. im sorry, i was just teasing you. i love you, matt.” you coo, already feeling bad and matt huffs lightly. “god, you’re so much sometimes.. i love you more, dumbass. pizza still okay?”

“heh, sounds delicious. see you soon, matt.”

“alright. love you, angel.”

breaking into a wide smile, you chuckle. “i love you more.”

chris sturniolo (⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝) ෆ

“mmh, my baby is all dressed up, looking sexy.”

chris curls his lips into a smirk as he brings an arm behind his head to rest against his pillow while his other hand holds his phone as he lays in bed. “where you headed to?”

you giggle at chris’ words and smooth down your jacket a little, adjusting it before turning to the mirror in his room to look for any last minute changes. “i’m heading out with some friends, we’re going shopping.”

“mmh, pick out something pretty then. can’t wait to see it.” chris calls out, directing his attention back to his phone and you hum, picking up your purse off the bedside table. “i’ll take pictures.”

“alright, have fun. i love you, babe.”

“i will. i like you more.” you quickly say in response, speedily making your way to the door, and just as your hand grabs the handle, chris stops you. “nuh uh, get your ass back here.”

you bite your tongue from releasing a laugh and glance back innocently. “what? i’m going to be late.”

chris narrows his eyes as he stares up at you in disbelief. “i love you, princess.”

“i like you too baby, now can i go?”

chris appears unamused, quickly growing impatient as he stands up and heads over to you, and you swallow to keep your composure. once he arrives at your side, he cups your chin and presses you against the door.

peering down at you, he tilts his head and tries again, this time more firmly and staring right into your eyes.

“[name]. i love you. now say it back and say it right.”

feeling the warmth spreading across your cheeks, you shyly look away and murmur. “..i love you, chris..”

the man only smirks and pecks your lips before pulling away. “good girl. you’re lucky i don’t teach you a lesson.” he warns casually before making his way back to his bed and waves his hand dismissively.

“see you later, baby.”

a/n : i lowkey don’t know how to write chris but gave it my best shot !! hope you guys enjoyed :)

synvil™️

[aciddrattboyy]

Cαɳ Iƚ Bҽ Oɳҽ Nιɠԋƚ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "megumi knew he needed to stay away from you. you came from two very different worlds. but god, he was having a real hard time staying away."

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Megumi F. x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 5.4k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Adult Film/Drama/Rom] angst, smut, oral(m!receiving), penetrative sex, saying the L word during sex(all characters aged up!) ★ 01 . 02. [COMPLETED] ★ honestly this might be my best/fav fic ever, i wrote it high one night from 12am to 5am before my 7am shift at work. megumi is one of my favorite characters like ever and i always enjoy writing him

▶▶

megumi loved you. god he loved you so fucking much. he wanted to be with you, make you his. but there was one problem. you were a non sorcerer. you knew nothing of the jujutsu world. and megumi wasn’t selfish enough to bring you into it. as he walked into an abandoned building , the events of earlier today plagued his mind.

“hi megumi!” your face lit up as he walked into the diner you worked at, coming from behind the counter to give him a hug. he didn’t hug you back, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gently pushed you off of him by your shoulders. you looked at him with a small frown, not sure what was going on and why he looked so anxious.

“when do you get off,” megumi’s voice was low, hoping that maybe you wouldn’t be able to hear him and he could just blow it off and pretend he wasn’t about to do this. he watched as you pulled out your phone to check the time, looking up at him with a small smile.

“in half an hour… is everything okay?” megumi could see the concern on your face and thought he was about to cry. 

“uh i just need to talk to you about something,” you frowned when he didn’t directly answer the question. it made you feel uneasy and you wanted to question him more. but instead you just nodded.

“okay uh i guess you can just wait at one of the tables,” he nodded, the thin line of lips unwavering. you offered him one final smile before heading back off to work the register. you couldn’t help but glance over at him every once in a while from where he sat. he seemed fidgety, nervous, and distraught, all things you’ve never seen from him before. you furrowed your eyebrows, trying so hard to figure out what could be bothering him. 

time seemed to drag one for hours as you rang up customer after customer. but soon enough, your shift was ending and you were plastering on a fake smile as you said your goodbyes to your coworkers. 

“hey,” you spoke gently as you stood in front of megumi, tenderly placing your hand on his shoulder to get his attention. when he raised his head from his hands there was one word you’d use to describe his face. tired. 

he silently stood up, pushing in his chair and immediately shoving his hands in his pockets before you could even think about intertwining yours fingers with his. you followed behind him silently, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. when you reached your car he finally turned to look at you. 

“y/n,” megumi spoke firmly, putting extra effort into making sure his voice didn’t waver. “i know we aren’t official or anything but i think its best if-”

“i understand,” you cut him off, your voice cracking slightly at the end. having had this conversation many times before, you didn’t really want to do it again. so instead you give him a polite smile. “i appreciate you telling me,” you nodded at him once before opening the door to your car. megumi was… dumbfounded to say the least. he didn’t expect things to be this easy and even though he should be grateful for it, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

“wait-,” megumi spoke before he could think, a feeling of desperation clouding his mind. “i lo-,”

“don’t,” you cut him off once again, this time the hurt in your voice more prominent. you looked at him with tears pooling in your lashes. this situation feeling all too familiar to ones in the past made you snap. “dont fucking say shit you don’t mean,” your voice was filled with pain while megumi stood there and looked at you with shock. “goodbye megumi, thank you for taking the time to tell me.” with one final nod, you got in your car and drove off, leaving megumi alone in the dark parking lot to process what just happen.

“fuck,” he cursed to himself as he walked towards the door, not wanting to replay those moments while he’s supposed to be exorcizing. with one glance back, he watched as ijichi finished opening a barrier before getting back in his car. megumi had told him that he didn’t need to wait for him and while ijichi was on the fence about it, he reluctantly listened to megumi. 

with a deep breath he passed the threshold of the building and immediately could feel the cursed energy grow stronger than what it was outside. he looked around before summoning his demon dog, warily walking deeper into the building. 

from what he was told, there seemed to just be a couple low level curses, nothing he really needed to worry about. a loud crash rang through the building and megumi was quick to face in the direction of it. 

there was a curse crouching by a pillar, its energy was low and megumi wasted no time before ordering demon dog to exorcize it. after it was gone, megumi felt like something was off, the cursed energy still being very prominent. 

then it happened, another curse appeared with what felt like twice the amount of cursed energy. how did he not notice it before? he was quick to summon nue, having it strike the curse while he tried to move to a spot where he’d get the advantage. but the curse was quick, immediately tracking megumi’s movements.

it wasn’t particularly too strong, megumi knew he would be able to exorcize it with a little work. but what megumi wasn’t prepared for, was it’s abilities. right before he was about to attack, the curse made some sort of intelligible noise and suddenly he was frozen. 

memories of his life began to flash through his mind and for a second he thought maybe he was dying. faces of the important people of his life flashing before his eyes and then you. he saw you so vividly in his mind. you were smiling, giggling as you looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night sky. but then it flashed to your teary eyes, your pained voice echoing in his mind. 

all this was cut short when megumi was hit in his gut. blood spilled out of his mouth as he cried out in pain. vision blurry with tears he didn’t even know he was shedding, he began to attack the curse and with the help of nue and demon dog, he was able to exorcize. 

feeling the cursed energy disperse, megumi let his shoulders slump as he fell to the ground. wiping his eyes with the back of his hands he examined his palms. his hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking. tears were beginning to fall down his already wet cheeks again as his thoughts ran a marathon aside his head, 

he felt like he was going to be sick, he thought he was about to die. he thought his life was truly flashing behind his eyes and he saw you. you were sad. you were hurt. he thought he was going to die and the last thing he saw was your hurt face. his head was dizzy and he almost fell over as he stood up. 

megumi was now regretting telling ijichi to leave. with a sigh he surveyed his surroundings and realized it looked a little familiar. looking back at the building he just exited, he realized it was the very same building you warned him about. 

“look that building over there,” you pointed towards your window as you drove, glancing at megumi before turning back to the road. “it’s so creepy. whenever i pass by i feel a shiver go down my spine,”  you flashed a smile at megumi, missing his blush as you looked back at the road “but for some reason with you in the car im not scared,”

before megumi even realized it, he was at your front door. seeing the doormat with the silly cat that both of you laughed at being the only thing snapping him back to reality. he fished his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. it was late. you were probably asleep now. he should just call ijichi and head home.

he went to take a step back the way he came but before he could even move, memories of what saw in that abandoned building flooded his mind and within a matter of seconds he knocked on your door. megumi knocked only twice, firmly telling himself that if you didn’t answer he was going to leave you alone. much to both his relief and his dismay, you opened the door. 

“megumi?” by the tone of your voice he could tell that you were probably heading to bed soon. “oh my god- megumi-” the sudden change in your tone startled him as he looked at your now horrified expression. “what the fuck happened to you-,” your voice was full of alarm as you took in the sight of the man in front of you. he was leaning against the wall, superficial cuts all over his arms, a bigger cut on his shoulder, and already drying blood coming from what looked like his head. 

“i-,” he took a step forward, quickly tripping over his own legs that felt like they were submerged in concrete, and falling into your arms. you squeaked as his body fell onto you, just barely catching him and stumbling backwards into your apartment. you led him to your couch, panting lightly as you carried the brunt of his weight. 

“stay right there- do not move, let me go grab a first aid kit,” you spoke firmly, watching as megumi’s eyelids fluttered. his head lolled to the side as uneven breaths left his partially open mouth. your hands were shaking violently as you fumbled to grab the kit, opening it quickly to see what was in it. frowning, you looked at the scarce amounts of supplies.

hurry back into the living room you felt your heart stop for a second when you saw how still he was. quickly getting on the couch next to him, dropping the med kit on your lap, you cupped his face in your hands. 

“megumi- megumi please- should i call someone-”

“no,” his voice was hoarse. he sounded pained, as if he was using all his energy just to speak. “don’t… call anyone ‘m fine,” his head slumped against the back cushion of the couch, eyes still shut as his ragged breathing shook through him. 

“megumi you’re bleeding,” your hands clumsily grabbed a pad and a bottle of alcohol before gingerly grabbing his arm. megumi made no move to stop you, sighing at the feeling of your hands on him. the two of you sat in silence as you tended to his arm aside from the low hisses coming from megumi because of the alcohol and mumbled sorry’s from you. when you got to the cut on his shoulder you grabbed a small pair of scissors. “i’ll have to cut the sleeve off,” you spoke mostly to yourself, getting a slight nod from megumi. you worked quickly, cutting off the sleeve and cleaning it as best as your limited medical knowledge would allow you. “it doesn’t look that bad,” you said absentmindedly as you began to wrap his shoulder with gauze.

the corners of megumi’s lips twitch at the somewhat foreign treatment. usually in this scenario he would’ve gone to shoko, cuts like the one he has now seeming so small. and here you were, fussing over it and trying to console him. megumi found that he much preferred this over what he was used to.

shifting in your seat, you leaned forward, bringing your hand to megumi’s head to move his hair out of his face to see where the bleeding was coming from. to your relief it wasn’t coming from his head, but a very small gash on his head. being so focused on cleaning the cut, you didn’t realize megumi was now looking up at you until you reached down to grab a bandage. you smiled at him reassuringly, a small heat flooding your cheeks as you applied the bandage and smoothed out his hair. 

“all better,” you sighed, placing the kit on the coffee table before leaning back onto the couch facing megumi. you looked deep into his eyes, searching for answers you were probably never going to get. “you gonna tell me what happened,” you asked lightly, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“i wish i could,” megumi’s voice was solemn, making you genuinely believe there was something keeping him from telling you. deciding to let it go, you switched topics. 

“you look ridiculous,” you motioned to the jagged ends of the sleeve to his shirt. megumi snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“you’re the one who cut it,” seeing megumi smile, no matter how small it was, made you feel a bit better. he didn’t seem to be in too much pain thankfully. 

“i’ll go get you a shirt to sleep in,” you got up from the couch, reaching down to grab the kit and put it away on your way to your room.

“sleep in?” he lifted his head to look at you, eyes widening slightly. 

“well do you have a way home,” megumi let his head rest against the cushions again. truthfully, he could call ijichi and if he didn’t answer he could call yuji, he knew for a fact that guy was still awake. but instead he found himself shaking his head. 

“then youre sleeping here,” you said with finality as you walked to your room. once you were out of sight of megumi in the confines of your room you found yourself shaking slightly. just to think you were about to head to bed and now the boy you were in love with was injured on your couch. you shook your hands as if trying to shake all of the nerves out of you before heading to your dresser. grabbing one of the many oversized shirts you own, you walked back out to the living. megumi was in the same position as when you left, his chest rising and falling in what looked like a much more normal tempo. “here, you can put this on,” you placed it on his lap, hands lingering for a split second on his thigh before you pulled away. 

“thank you y/n,” he looked up at you again, sitting up as he grabbed the shirt. 

“youre welcome megumi,” shooting him a smile, you stood up again, stretching your arms above your head. “you can sleep in my room,”

“what- no why-”

“you’re injured and my couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable,” you spoke as if this was common knowledge. as if you giving up your bed to the guy who basically broke up with you was the only reasonable option. 

“if it’s not comfortable why would you sleep here,” megumi looked at you incredulously, showing more emotion than he did when he was actively bleeding. 

“i’m used to it,” 

“i’m not going to sleep in your bed knowing you’re on the couch in your own home,” megumi’s voice was firm as he spoke, eyes locked on yours in a sort of silent battle. 

“well then do you want me to sleep with you?,” you were louder than you meant to be, eyes going wide in embarrassment at what you said. it grew silent as the two of you stared at each other. 

before you knew it, you were getting under your blankets, along with megumi. it was quiet and awkward as the two of you shifted under the covers. with your backs to each other, megumi’s mind was going wild. there was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. could he really be that selfish? could he really let himself love you and let himself be yours? did he really have it in him? surely he’d have to tell you about his line of work. would you think he was crazy? there was too much running through his mind and he began to feel tears welling in his eyes. 

“y/n,” his voice cracked as your name left his lips. 

“yea?” the two of you spoke with your backs still facing each other, both too scared of what would happen if you saw each other.

“i love you,” the words felt foreign as they slipped off his tongue. but it lifted a certain weight of his chest as they finally left him. the room became still, the only noise being your fan. he shifted under the blankets, getting slightly uncomfortable at the silence. 

“i love you too megumi,” your voice was weak, as if you too were scared to speak those words out. without giving yourself a moment to think, you rolled onto your other side, now facing megumi’s back. having heard and felt the movement, megumi followed suit. he felt his breath hitch as he took your face in. 

you were so beautiful, so kind, so loving, so sweet. you were everything megumi ever wanted and he couldnt help the weary smile that spread on his face. you returned his smile, lifting your hand to wipe a stray tear off his cheek. 

“why’re you crying,” you mumbled, now rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. 

“ ‘cause i love you,”

“and that makes you cry?” you cocked an eyebrow at him, a small playful smile on your face. you had no idea what line you were now teetering on. had no idea what your world could possibly turn into if megumi let himself be selfish. this question from you was a rude reminder that you had no idea who he really was. 

“... yes,” his voice was sad as he kept his eyes on you. you noticed the sudden change in his tone and frowned slightly, deciding it was best to redirect where this was going. inching your face closer to his, you let your gaze flick down to his lips. megumi took in a slight breath as you moved, his eyes widening slightly. this wouldn’t be your first time kissing megumi, having gave him pecks on his cheeks and lips multiple time. but this would be the first time it truly felt real.

your eyes fluttered closed when you got close enough to feel his shallow breath fan against your lips. and within only a few moments your lips were on his. the kiss was incredibly gentle and ended way to fast for your liking when megumi pulled away. opening your eyes you see megumi staring at you with a sheepish smile on his face.

“why’re you staring at me,” you asked jokingly, now smiling with him.

“you’re just so pretty,” 

“you’re so sappy,” your teasing was lighthearted, and megumi knew that. but every joke thrown at him just reminded him that you truly don’t know how devastating this was for him. you noticed the change in his demeanor and frowned, still not having any clue what was going on with him. but before you could ask any questions, megumi pressed his lips against yours. this kiss felt different than the one you gave him. the difference in your urgency was incredibly difficult for megumi to deal with. so instead he opted for kissing you until he couldn’t think of anything but the feeling of your lips on his. 

megumis hands trembled as he slotted a hand in your hair, pulling you closer to him. you eagerly returned the passion he was putting into the kiss, pressing your body against his as you kept your hand cupping his jaw.

a small whimper left your mouth when you felt him bite down on your lower lip softly. megumi’s whole body seemed to be shaking as his hands smoothed over your side. your hand traveled to card in his hair, chest pressed firmly against his. 

megumi stilled when he felt himself growing hard, a tinge of guilt in his chest. he shouldn’t do this. he knew he shouldn’t go any farther- hell he shouldn’t have even gone this far. he shouldn’t have shown up at your door. he shouldn’t have even gotten himself involved with you in the first place-

“megumi,” you spoke softly as you could physically see him come back to the present. “you’re distracted again,” you looked over his face as you gave him the most reassuring smile you could, his lips now wet and slightly parted. 

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbled before wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck. you slid your leg between his, not trying to do inheritably sexual, just trying to get comfortable. but the moment your thigh pressed against his boner he hissed in your ear.  

“megumi-,”

“ i’m sorry, i’m sorry y/n,” he kept mumbling apologies into your neck and you tried to comfort him by playing with his hair. 

“you don’t have to apologize,” you whispered into your dark room, but this only made megumi feel worse. you had no idea what he was apologizing for. but he decided to take it, taking in a deep breath before lifting his head to look at you.

“thank you, i love you,” he smiled when he heard you giggle softly, pecking his lips.

“i love you too,” you were beaming up at him now and megumi had a mental war with himself to just let him enjoy the moment. “can you kiss me again,” your voice was so sweet, and you were looking at him with those pretty eyes- how could he resist. with a quick nod, his lips were on yours once more. 

things were escalating faster than megumi could keep up with and before he knew it, you were on top of him, kissing him messily while you grind down on him with your pajama bottoms long gone. small whines and moans from megumi were muffled by your lips, his hands tight on your waist. you broke the kiss to catch your breath, sitting up on megumis lap as you grabbed the hem of your shirt.

“is this okay?” you asked breathlessly, stopping your arms just before pulling your shirt up enough to show your chest. megumi’s eyes were wide as he nodded his head, feeling like he was in a daze watching you take your shirt off. seeing you in nothing but your underwear had megumi’s dick growing painfully hard in his pants and he couldn’t help his hips bucking up into you. you let out a soft sound of surprise at the pressure on your covered clit. with a smile you leaned back down, ghosting your lips over his. you watched his adams apple bobbed when you rolled your hips, a soft whine leaving both of you. megumi sat up, leaning back on his elbows as he pressed his lips into yours, both of your tongues intertwining while you continued grinding your hips against him. “do you want to do anything more” your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke against his lips. 

megumi stilled against you for just a second. this was a bad idea. a very bad idea. but god he wanted you. he wanted all of you. he wanted to be yours and he wanted to you to be his in every sense of the word. so, against his better judgment, he nodded his head, biting his lip as he watched your face light up. his eyes were glued to yours as you moved further down his body. you somehow managing to keep eye contact as you grabbed the hem of his pants had a shiver running down his spine. 

you slowly pulled his underwear and pants down in one go, giggling softly as megumi hurriedly helped by kicking them off. you smoothed your hands over his now exposed thighs, leaving wet kisses on the flesh. 

with his lip stuck between his teeth, megumi tried his hardest to not make any noise while he watched you inch your mouth closer and closer to where he wanted you to touch. and when he finally did place a kiss on his tip he thought he might cum just then. with your eyes on him you grabbed the base of his dick, squeezing slightly while placing kitten licks all around his slit that was now leaking precum. 

“ ah y/n- oh shit,” you moaned around his dick as you lowered your mouth on him, pushing your panties to the side to push two fingers into your wet hole. when you kept moaning around his cock and jerking your hips, megumi finally realized what else you were doing and his whole body felt hot. you began to bob your head at the same pace you were fucking yourself with your fingers and the site was megumi on the brink of an orgasm. 

“you like that ‘gumi?” you asked after pulling you mouth off his dick with a soft ‘pop’, smiling at him as you continued to jerk him off. the nickname had megumi whining loudly despite him biting his lip hard enough to almost draw blood. 

“w-wanna feel you,” he spoke before thinking again, the rational part of him telling him he shouldn’t do this and he should actually stop this all now and apologize and then go home and never talk to you again. but god the way you smiled at him with those lust filled eyes had him thinking with his dick.

“yea baby?” you asked excitedly, pulling your fingers out of you before situating yourself back on his lap and pressing your now wet fingers against his lips. you didn’t have to say anything, megumi already opening his mouth, tongue lapping at your fingers before you pressed them against his tongue. when he looked at you through those pretty lashes you felt yourself clenching around nothing. 

megumi watched you with hungry eyes as you lifted your hips, grabbing his dick and pulling your panties to the side, lining it with your hole. you elicited a long moan from the both of you as you sank down on him. your breath growing ragged as you bottomed out. pressing your palms into his chest, you let your head hang while you got used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“ ‘m gonna start moving,” you whispered, lifting your head to look at megumi as he nodded his head. you smashed your lips against his, effectively muffling both of your moans as you lifted your hips and pushed back down. 

your room was soon filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. both of you moaning and whimpering into each others mouths as you continued to fuck yourself on his dick.

“shit megumi-,” you whined as you pulled your lips away to catch your breath. he whined softly, a shaky hand sliding into your hair and gripping onto it. 

“y/n- y/n i love you,” he panted against your mouth, hips now jerking up into you as he his body chased his orgasm. 

“i love you too ‘gumi- love you so much- im- ah fuck- im close,” 

“me too,” he whispered, eyebrows pinching together as the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each snap of your hips. you snaked a hand between your bodies, fingers messily rubbing your clit as you got closer and closer to cuming. you mewled, resting your head on his shoulder as megumi let out a string of moans above you. 

with one whimpered warning from you, you came undone on his cock. your spasming cunt around him was what finished him off, quickly lifting you off of him as his cum spurted all over his shirt. your eyes were wide at his display of strength as you came down from your high, panting softly.

with a dramatic sigh you flopped onto the bed next to a spent megumi. you watched as he smiled up at the ceiling. 

“oh megumi you ruined my favorite shirt,” you pouted as you looked at the now cum stained shirt. you were totally just joking but the expression on megumi’s face as he turned his face to look at you was priceless. 

“y/n im so sorry-,”

“i was just kidding!” your laugh was undeniably contagious, making megumi laugh along with you until both of you couldn’t breath and your chests started to hurt. “you probably shouldn’t sleep in that though,” you said while wriggling your eyebrows. megumi rolled his eyes before sitting up to take off the shirt. seeing all of his torso was definitely something you were going to commit to memory. every scar, blemish, and mark now stored in their own little file folder in your mind. 

you watched silently as megumi went to grab his pants putting them on as he watched you slip back under the covers.

“you’re gonna sleep like that?” megumi spoke with a smile on his face, getting right under the covers next to you. 

“mm yea ‘m too comfy now,” you sighed, slinging your leg over his hips and resting your head on his chest. megumi hummed softly one arm wrapped around your waist while the other resting on your arm. 

“you havin fun,” megumi asked as you traced the edge of the gauze on his shoulder with your fingertips. laughing quietly, you nodded against his chest, placing a kiss right before the gauze. the room fell silent after that, nothing but the noise of your fan and breathing to be heard.

“megumi,” you whispered, not entirely sure if he was even awake. 

“yea?”

“i know you’re not ready to tell me now,” you started,  your face heating up slightly. “but i need you to know that i will patiently wait for you to tell me your stories,” this is what brought megumi back to reality. just now realizing what he’s done, what he’s currently doing. he was internally freaking out but didn’t want to alarm you. 

“thank you y/n,” was all he said, effectively ending the conversation as you let out a content sigh. he held you in his arms until you fell asleep, only then letting unconsiousness take ahold of him. 

he woke up with a jolt, heart racing while he laid in an unfamiliar bed. he was about to sit up when he felt a weight on his chest- oh. it was you. he was in your room. after sleeping with you, having told you he loved you multiple times, having gave you this false sense of security. god he was horrible.

he sat up slowly, looking down at your sleeping frame now clinging onto his legs. you looked so peaceful like this. so beautiful- angelic even. but then there was a buzz from his phone. pulling it out of his pocket, his frown deepened when he saw the notification saying he got assigned to another mission. this time to defeat a special grade.

in this moment he knew he couldn’t do this to you. couldn’t bring you into a world you never asked to be in. and so with a dejected sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself from crying before he got up from the bed. 

he was quiet as he moved, making sure to not wake you up. mostly for his own sake, not wanting to see you in pain again. he was selfish that way, not wanting to be there to know he was the one who cause your suffering. 

he rounded to your side of the bed, leaning down and slipping a strand of hair out of your face to press a gentle kiss against your temple. he let his lips linger on your skin for longer than he probably should have. 

with one last look with teary eyes, he walked out, closing the door to your bedroom quietly.

when you woke up you instantly searched for the warmth of the boy you loved. the boy who had confessed his feelings for you multiple times. with your eyes still closed, you swiped your arm over the bed, frowning when you only felt your cold sheets. opening your eyes, you sat up looking towards the bathroom your frown only growing more prominent when you saw the door was open to the dark room. quickly shrugging on a shirt you walked out your room, hands shaking slightly as you called out his name. and to your utter dismay, you quickly realized the truth,

megumi was gone.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

[aninipanin1]

Hello!!! I have a little suggestion for the manager!reader series.... What if manager!reader made tiktoks/little skits around each stratum for blue lock tv promotional content? I can imagine a lot of people fighting for the spot next to the reader when they do silly tiktok trends hehe ( ＾ω＾ )

Anyways, that's all from me!!! Take care of yourself, and thank you! (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

SUSPECT!

Notes: I don't have TikTok so I don't know much about it. But this turned out to be more player focused lmao enjoy!

"We have to do a what?"

"Some tiktok challenges. Our media manager has already made you guys an account and um, they want you to film some videos so the show can get even more popular!"

You can hear most of them groaning in complaint. Its not that they do not use the app, but most of them could not care less about the cameras or how popular the show could get. As long as they got to continue playing and being in Blue Lock, then everything is all good.

"Can I not join in, Y/n-chan?" Niko asked and most of them soon followed, asking the same question.

"Eh? Oh okay...um, I'll try convincing the JFU but...they said you need to be in it." You said, a sad look in your eyes, knowing that the JFU would probably scold you again when they found out you let the boys do whatever they wanted again.

Isagi, being one of the most sensitive ones in the group, noticed the look in your face. Now, if it was just him, he would also rather say no to whatever the JFU wanted. But knowing that you will probably struggle in convincing the higher ups, and the possibility of you being scolded again, he straightened his posture before clearing his throat.

"Actually, Y/n-chan. We'll do the filming! Right guys?" He said, a fake smile on his face as the rest were just confused.

"What? You do it alone-" Otoya was about to say when Isagi elbowed his side discreetly, before giving a chilling smile.

"Right, Otoya! We'll all do it, Y/n-chan! What do we do?"

Most of them did not like the sound of that, but seeing your face light up in happiness made them get what Isagi wanted. So they just shut their mouths up and let you tell them what to do.

"It's been a while since we even used our phones for fun, didn't know so many trends already came and go." Karasu said as he listened to the trend they were supposed to be doing.

"How do you do this 'suspect' trend, Y/n-chan?" Bachira asked, peeking his head through your shoulder to look at the tablet in your hand where a video of the said trend played.

"So basically, one person will be filming another. The one shown in the camera will be running while the one holding the camera would call them 'suspect' before saying something about themselves that is embarrassing or funny. That's the gist of it, but you all can say what you want, as long as it doesn't cross too many lines."

Oh.

Oh.

A shiver ran through your spine at the smirk on everybody's face. Of course, they all knew each other's deepest habits and secrets, perks of living with each other in this large facility. And exposing and dissing each other? Oh, this was just the thing they have been waiting for.

And that was when you wondered if you picked the wrong trend for the boys to do.

"Um okay, I'll be doing something else in the meantime. I'll leave you with this phone so you guys can film. Um, you can go in whatever order you want. Please try to keep the language to a minimum as possible."

You said nervously, handing a phone provided by the facility to Rin, who just accepted it without a thought. You personally did not know how to feel about this. You trusted them, but definitely not enough to say the weirdest and most out of context things, especially when it comes to their fellow Blue Lock players.

'Oh god, I hope they dont end up fighting...'

The moment you left, they immediately went up to Rin to set up everything and started to point on who will be the scapegoat and be the first one.

"I vote for Barou to go first." Nagi said with a yawn, which only angered the said striker.

"What did you say, you lazyass? How about YOU go first?"

"Hey, hey no fighting!" Bachira cheered.

"Yeah. Hmm, how about rock paper scissors, and whoever loses gets to be the sacrifice." Hiori commented, to which most of them agreed.

It took a while to play the said games due to their number, but as the minutes passed and more and more people won and got eliminated. It was all left to Otoya and Chigiri.

"It's missy versus ninjass!" Karasu laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Karasu!" Chigiri muttered, taking the game very seriously.

But, lady luck wasn't on his side today as he pulled out paper and Otoya pulled out scissors.

"YES! GOODLUCK MISSY!" Otoya cheered. Chigiri fell to his knees at the lost before being pushed up by Isagi, who was laughing at his misery.

Being the one who currently held the phone, Reo snickered at a thought that appeared on his mind as he pressed the video button and started recording the running Chigiri.

"Suspect can't outrun us for too long in this video, or else he'll be in crutches the next day." Like bowling pins, most of the boys fell to the ground laughing at the words. Reo, was busy snickering and making sure that Chigiri's reaction was caught on camera.

"You absolute crud! COME HERE, YOU ASSHOLE!" Chigiri said, fuming, chasing after the chameleon-like striker who just ran away and continued laughing at his offended face.

"Suspect got brotherzoned by Y/n-chan because he started to say slurs on the field!"

"BITCH?! COME HERE CHIGIRI!" Isagi said, feeling offended and a bit heartbroken when he remembered that certain time.

"Suspect thinks his bad taste in fashion brings the girls closer, but actually just shoos them away from him."

"WHAT?! Excuse me, my fashion is good." Otoya tried to defend himself from Karasu's words. But the rest of the boys just shook their heads.

"Your beanies are hideous."

"Nah, its just because they're on him."

"HELLO?! WHY IS EVERYONE SO RUDE TO ME?!"

"Suspect is a closet gay for Hiori." Rin said, filming Karasu who stopped in his steps with wide eyes at what he said.

"What the hell? I'm not gay." But the rest of the boys just laughed at the straight tone Rin said what he said and the expression Karasu currently had.

"Shut the hell up, you crow. You ain't ever gonna beat the allegations!"

"You aren't any better, Shitdough! You are so gonna get it from me!"

"Hey, you're the one who keeps commenting about how erotic Hiori is." Kunigami rolled his eyes.

"I second that. I still can't forget how you called my left leg erotic." Hiori pitched.

"THAT WAS A COMPLIMENT?!"

"How gay can a compliment be, chat?" Otoya joked while slapping Karasu's back, who only yelped.

"Suspect would either get hepatitis from his dreams of Itoshi Sae or his 3 weeks unwashed pillow case!" This time, it was Oliver who filmed Shidou.

"And I don't have anything to hide about that."

"Jesus Christ, you both are disgusting." Rin commented in disgust at both Oliver for what he said, and to Shidou's whole humanity, or what was left in that guy's said humanity.

"Ya'll are getting more unhinged as this challenge pass by." Yukimiya added as he shook his head, not even knowing what you, Ego or Anri would say when they start to view the footage.

"Suspect can't run too fast or else he'll trip because he can't see what's in front of him."

"HAHAHAHA Bachira did not pull any punches." The rest laughed, meanwhile Yukimiya's glasses fogged, his smile clearly fake as he was legit pissed at what the striker said.

"We're here to offend not to ammend, baby."

"Suspect watches anime more for the agenda than the plot."

"So what?" Niko sassed towards Kiyora, who just shrugged while the rest just snickered.

"Nah bro, don't tell me you're one of those in the agenda piece community." Kurona said, only for Niko to shrug.

"Maybe or maybe not. You never know."

"Suspect is a closet mean girl."

"Pfft Isagi!"

"Nagi being a closet mean girl is so true, though."

"All the victims of Nagi Seishiro arise!" Otoya said as Isagi, Barou and even Reo raised their hands while laughing. Nagi, on the other hand just plopped on the ground, not wanting to even continue moving.

Needless to say, the video was a whopping success in social media. Everyone had a good laugh at found out the chill and funny side of the Blue Lock players. But, the JFU was less than pleased of what was in the video.

They expected the boys to behave and say respectable things about each other, not ruin their damn reputation just for jokes and laughs. But, nerdless to say, nobody cared much about their anger because the video did blow up in popularity, and numbers never lie, especially when it brings over money and revenue.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV TIKTOK COMMENT SECTION:

User1: TO SAY I SNORTED WHAT I WAS DRINKING WHILE WATCHING THIS?!

User2: I swear I always forget these guys are the same age as me, meaning we share the same humour☠️

User3: THE KARASU ONE?! THE GAYNESS IS REAL

-> User4: Idk who to ship anymore Y/n-chan w him or Hiori

User5: I did not expect Rin to actually be funny, good to know he doesn't have his brother's dry sense of humor.

User6: I LOVE THIS! Like I didnt know Nagi and Niko were filled with sass nor did I know Rin can be funny. I NEED MORE OF THESE

User7: Okay, but the brotherzone thing w Isagi proves to me that maybe the crazy harem shippers are right LMAO

-> User8: RIGHT?! Now I'm wondering like theres no way you would use the word brotherzoned if there is no feelings there.

I know this strayed away from the request but I really wanted to incorporate the Bllk boys' friendship so I hope yall enjoy this. I may make a pt 2 that fits more of the request huhu

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[kayhi808]

OK, let’s say he comes back from a mission and it was really rough on him and he kind of relapsed into the winter soldier(slightly very very slightly) and Steve let’s reader know that a lot happened. Abby has went away with Natasha for a weekend together as reader was really busy w work. Bucky comes home and is so so on edge and is afraid he will hurt reader and isolates himself especially after he almost hurt reader when she crept up too silent behind him. so he hates himself rn. BUT THEN ABBY RUNS IN OUT OF NOWHERE AND HUGS HIM CUS SHE WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND BOOM man either lets out the craziest sigh or low keys cries because he realizes he is okay. idk something like that if it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/

🧹

Thank you, to my favorite anon!💕 It took me forever to get to this one. This was a lot to go on. It could have gone really dark and angsty, but I'm trying to keep my Abby stories a little lighter. Hope you like it.🤗

Bucky was gone on what turned out to be an intense mission & word just came back that his team was returning. Steve and Bucky were heading the mission so you weren't too worried. You always like when they are sent out together because you knew they had each other's backs. ALWAYS

The quinjet touched down & the crew disembarked. You saw Bucky and Steve walking down the ramp, deep in conversation. As soon as Bucky made eye contact with you, you felt something was wrong. Then he veered away from you to another entry into the Tower and you knew something was very wrong.

You started to follow him, but Steve blocked your path. "What happened? What's wrong with Bucky??"

"Y/N, give him some time, this mission was rough on him."

"Is he hurt? Is he ok?"

"Physically he's fine..."

Impatiently, "then tell me what happened!"

"It's his story to tell. He needs a little bit of time to sort out the demons in his head. That's all."

"That's all?!?"

"It's what he wants."

******

You were able to give him 2 days to himself, until you caved in & tried calling Bucky just to hear his voice. For him to tell you he's ok but needs time to himself. You'd understand that. But for him to send your call to voicemail pissed you off. You left a message last night & today's you were leaving to pick up Abby, you tried again & you got his voicemail.

"Babe? Can you please call me back, text me...or something, so I know you're alive yet purposefully ignoring me? That would be great." You sigh, "Is this how we are going forward in this relationship? This will be the new communication norm?"

You gather your things to head out of the building, but up ahead you see Steve & Bucky. You hurry to catch up with them. You grab onto Bucky's arm & before you can even say his name, his hand is on your sternum, and you're shoved against the wall. A startled yelp escapes & he releases you immediately. "Fuck!" His hands drop to your arms, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Steve pulls Bucky back.

You reach for his hands, "I'm fine. You startled me." You look up at him and he looks so tired. You go to hug him but he pulls away from you. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Buck?" You turn to Steve, "Would you do me a big favor and pick-up Abby from pre-school, please?"

"Yea, sure " He shoots Bucky a worried glance before he leaves.

*****

Once you're back at Bucky's residence, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" You flop yourself down on his couch.

"I can't... I can't let those things...touch you. You don't need to know about HYDRA."

"Bucky, I know about HYDRA. I work here! Nick Fury is my boss."

"You don't need to know about the Winter Soldier. You don't need to know about me back then." Bucky stops pacing & drops down into his chair.

"You don't think I've done my research before dating you? Before I let you be around my daughter? What you did back then was not your fault. You weren't given a choice. HYDRA had control of you. Babe, you are not the same person."

"I'm still capable..."

You move to sit at the foot of his chair, "No! Stop it."

"Doll, I could have killed you back there!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't. You're James Barnes, not the Winter Soldier!" You squeeze his hands. "Talk to me, Bucky. Let me share your burden. We're in this life together. Please tell me what happened."

With a deep sigh, "We went to hit an active HYDRA base camp." You nod. "Doll, there were cribs there. In the lab, there were children's bed and restraints." You softly gasp, squeezing his hands tighter. "We couldn't locate any of the children, but now I know they're out there somewhere."

"Oh, Bucky." Tears prickling your eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I killed them all. Whoever was there." You kneel up to wrap your arms around him. It took a while for him to return your hug, but you didn't let go. He gives in and pulls you tightly to him.

"You think I wouldn't do the same if I could? Wouldn't anyone do the same? The only difference is that we don't have your skill set." Pulling away, cradling his face between your palms to get him to look at you, "Just because you have the skills, does not make you the Winter Soldier." You give him a soft kiss. "The job you took on isn't an easy one, but you're making the world a safer place. For people like me and Abby."

"I saw the cribs and beds and I...I thought of Abigail. And...I snapped." You nod.

"I understand how that could happen." Bucky pulls you onto his lap & he holds you for a long time in silence. You offered him comfort any way you could. You understand now why he was so affected by this mission. "You need to talk to me and tell me what's going on. You can't shut me out, Buck. I was so worried. If the situation was flipped, how would you handle me shutting down on you?"

"Not well." He gives you a slight smile.

Nodding, "exactly." You lean back against him as he wraps you in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

*******

Steve picks up Abby and visits with Ms Grace before returning to the Tower, hoping you and Bucky ironed out your differences. He texts you both letting you know he's got Abs in the common room watching TV.

"You knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs."

"Chloe and Mia says a new Lilo & Stitch movies coming outs."

"Oh, yea? Wow."

Abby stands up on the couch next to Steve and slings her arm across his shoulders. "Rights?? I so 'cited! You know what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs?"

"You wants to take me to the Lilo & Stitch movies?"

"Won't your Mama and Bucky take you to see it? Did they say no?" Steve has to ask. He's not going to be caught up in one of Abby's tricks and get in trouble with you.

"Mama gonna takes me, but you can takes me," holding up two fingers, "two time." She gives Steve a sweet smile.

"Abigail."

She cackles. "What if I likes it so much and wants to sees it again? Like Wicked?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. If you like it so much, I'll take you to watch it again."

Abby squashes her cheek against Steve's while strangling him around the neck, "Oh, tank you! Yous the best Uncle in all the worlds!" She sees Bucky in the doorway and Uncle Steve is quickly forgotten. "Papa! You homes!!" She bounces off the couch and runs to Bucky with arms spread wide.

Bucky steps back, away from your incoming toddler, banging into you. "It's ok, Bucky."

Abby doesn't slow down, so Bucky is forced to catch her and lift her into his arms. "I missed-ed you so much!" Abby peppers his face with kisses. She pulls away & squishes his face between her palms, "You missed-ed me, too?" A happy hopeful smile on her face.

Bucky nods, answering quietly, "Yea, baby. I missed-ed you, too," dropping a kiss on her nose which makes her do a happy wiggle.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[k1ng-ej]

Can you dooooo

Reader coming on there cycle in bed and the slasher thinks there bleeding out or smtn until they explain it to them?

Allll fluff, you could do headcanons or a specific slasher if you want

Slashers reaction to you starting your period

(Michael, Thomas, Vincent)

Note: excuse this if this a little sloppy, i planned on doing a few other slashers but then i didnt feel like it lol. mental exhaustion is real! anyway, i hope you enjoy <33

Michael

It was a rare night where Michael was sleeping in your bed, he usually doesn't sleep at all or chooses to sleep in the guest room or on the couch in the living room. You don't know why he did that, but you never forced him to come and sleep in your bed, not wanting to overstep boundaries. Michael is a complicated man to understand, and you don't want to push his buttons too much.

You nestled against him, your head comfortably resting on his chest as you basked in the warmth he emanated. You appreciated these rare moments with Michael, especially because he kept you warm on the coldest nights. After what seemed like an eternity of tossing and turning, you finally climbed out of bed, intending to get a glass of water. Just then, you heard the sound of Michael shifting, turning to face you.

"I'll be right back." You smiled, taking a moment to admire his mask-less face. From where you stood, he looked like just a normal man, his brown curls that laid perfectly on his forehead, the slightest dark bags under his mismatched eyes, and the way he laid in your bed, he didn't look like a man who has tormented your small hometown known as Hadonfield.

Just as you were about to turn around, a strong hand seized your wrist. When you looked back, you saw Michael propped up in bed, staring at you intently. His expression remained blank, but there was purpose in his movements. He drew you closer, lifting your shirt as if searching for something specific. When he couldn't find what he sought, he gently tugged at your shorts.

"What are you doing?" You questioned with a confused chuckle, looking down at yourself. Michael grabbed the bottom of your shorts and pulled them so you could see. You had apparently started your period, you completely forgot to keep an eye for that this week.

"Oh." You figured that was what Michael was looking for, the source of the blood that now stained your favorite pajama shorts.

Michael looked to you, and tilted his head. You figured he was probably never educated about this subject, you wondered how you would explain it to him.

"It's my period, I get it every month. It's normal so there's nothing to worry about." You explained carefully. "I mean, the only thing you'd have to worry about would be my mood swings." You joked with a giggle. Michael only blinked at you, you didn't know if he understood, maybe he didn't care.

Then, he gave you a subtle nod, one you almost missed if you hadn't been staring at him. You assumed he got what you said, so you left it at that.

Thomas

Thomas shook you awake in the middle of the night, his concern evident. Groggy and disoriented, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, mumbling some indistinct words of annoyance.

"What's wrong, Tommy?" You asked as you shivered, noticing how cold it suddenly was. Oh, the blanket had been pulled off.

Thomas pointed to your legs, and you noticed a small blood stain underneath of you. You quickly realized that as your period. Thomas appeared slightly unsettled, leading you to wonder if Luda Mae had ever discussed periods with him. Before you could clarify, he began examining your body for any signs of injury, which made you chuckle. You found his concern adorable.

"Thomas, i'm okay. It's just my period, it's something that females get every month. it's nothing bad." You clarified, a faint smile resting on your lips. Thomas stopped checking your body, giving you a confused look.

"I promise. It doesn't even hurt me. Well… kind of but it's not that serious." You hoped you weren't making Thomas more confused than he already was, but when he stopped furrowing his brows you assumed he understood what you were explaining to him. YA sigh escaped your lips as the reality set in: you needed to change out of your stained pajamas and replace the bedsheet. You longed to have slept in and postponed this chore until morning, yet you couldn't fault Thomas for his concern about your wellbeing. He prepared a swift shower for you to freshen up while he took care of the bedding. Once the chores were done, he made sure you had a restful night, holding you tightly against his chest until the early hours of dawn.

Vincent

You went to bed after Vincent mentioned he would be up a little later, immersed in his work on wax sculptures. This was a frequent situation, even though you often encouraged him to join you, insisting that he needed and deserved the rest. While you wholeheartedly supported Vincent in his pursuits, it always troubled you when he sacrificed sleep for his art.

You had woken up to the sound of shuffling, probably Vincent finally coming to bed. You didn't know what time it was, but you couldn't even be bothered to open your eyes to check. You felt a gentle nudge, Vincent's way of telling you to scoot over so he could get into bed as well. You grumbled before eventually scooting to the other side of the bed, you waited to feel the bed dip, indicating he laid down. But it never came.

Instead, Vincent was shaking you awake, it seemed urgent.

"Hm? Is something wrong Vinc?" You mumbled into the pillow, looking at him through an eye. In the dark, you could barely make out him signing to you.

"What?" You finally moved your face to fully look at him, worried by his seemingly panicked signing.

'You're bleeding. What happened?'

"I'm bleeding? What do you mean?" You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was talking about. You hadn't been around any sharp objects recently, and you didn't have any old wounds that could be reopened. Vincent then gestured to the bed, you sat up and realized what happened. Where you laid previously had a blood stain on the sheets, you already knew your pants would be stained too.

"Awh… I got my period." You frowned, huffing from your nose. Your least favorite time of the month. You felt bad for staining Vincent's sheets, making a mental promise to yourself that you'd get it out tomorrow morning.

'Period?' He signed, tilting his head. He still seemed worried about you, you could see it in his body language by the way he leaned toward you and slightly reached his hands out to you. You knew he wanted to check you for any wounds, something he did quite often because you were very clumsy and often got scrapes and cuts, which he would patch up for you.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just something girls get every month. I get cramps and whatnot. Sorry for staining your sheets."

'Cramps? Anything else?'

"Uhhh, food cravings, mood swings." You shrugged, starting to scooch off the bed. Vincent took your hand and helped you up, then started leading you toward the bathroom. "Where are we going?"

He didn't respond as he released your hand and knelt beside the bathtub, turning on the water and testing its warmth with his fingers. You had always known Vincent to be thoughtful, consistently showing you kindness and tenderness. However, you never anticipated him starting a bath for you in the middle of the night.

"Oh, Vincent, you didn't have to." You smiled warmly at the gesture, feeling grateful to have a significant other like him.