#i meant to do more in the set but forgot :-T

[uproariousscarecrow]

they weren't kidding that grove sure can cozy

[daryltwdixon]

Sundress

Joel Miller x Reader

Joel prides himself on his patience, but that little sundress of yours that you’re wearing to the summer solstice? It’s his undoing. He does his best to behave...until he gets you alone.

|| smut mdni 18+, he sure does fuck you in the sundress, pinv, f!receiving oral, teasing, pussy pronouns whoops, daddy kink, pet names praissseeeeeeee kinkkkkkkk, joel is in love, jackson!joel, established relationship, I pictured game!joel but you do what ya want || Inspired by these wonderful requests x x If you found this before I updated the banner sry

First and foremost, Joel was a polite man.

He was raised to say yes ma’am and no ma’am, never forgetting his please and thank you’s. It was something a Southern man like him held onto, even after the world had gone to hell.

Respect came first. Restraint. Control.

But then spring came to Jackson, and your layers of clothing started to shed. Bit by bit, the cold loosened its grip, and so did his discipline. Your neck was no longer hidden beneath those thick scarves you loved, your arms bare when the sun was shining, and every so often, he caught a glimpse of soft, warm skin—the dip of your lower back, the curve of your stomach when you stretched to reach something, the way your t-shirts lifted just enough to tease.

He told himself it was nothing—just the natural way of things. He’d seen you naked in his bed enough times to know your body like the back of his own hand. Cherished and kissed and loved every inch. Warmer weather just meant lighter clothes, more sun on skin.

Nothing to make a man lose his damn mind over.

And then—Christ—summer arrived, and he was no better than any other man.

Somehow, this was worse. Because now, that soft, sun-kissed skin he worshipped in the quiet of your home was everywhere. 

Teasing him. 

Tormenting him.

Joel had spent the whole morning baking under the sun, sweat clinging to his skin, dust settling in the creases of his shirt. The construction site had been brutal—hauling lumber, setting up new fencing, fixing the shit that kept breaking down in town. His muscles ached, his skin was hot, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, all he wanted was a cold beer and a quiet place to sit.

But Tommy had other plans.

“C’mon,” his brother had grinned, clapping him on the back as they finished up for the day. “Solstice picnic’s startin’.” 

And as Joel opened his mouth, about to argue that he needed to get back to you, Tommy had cut him off, already a step ahead.

"She’s already there. Maria put her to work stringin’ up lights and pickin’ flowers or somethin’. Now get movin’ before she starts wonderin’ if you forgot about 'er."

Joel grunted, stripping off his work gloves and tucking them into his belt. His palms were rough, lined with grit, and as he wiped the sweat from his brow, he swore the damn heat had sunk into his bones.

Wouldn’t be the first time he showed up to one of these things straight from work, sweat-streaked and worn. No one gave a shit. So he walked beside his younger brother, looking forward to getting through another one of the town's little parties.

That was when he saw you. 

That little sundress. White, lacy, soft. Light enough that it barely touched your skin, the summer breeze slipping beneath it and lifting the fabric just enough to reveal the bare skin of your upper thigh.

Joel swallowed hard, the heat rolling through him having nothing to do with the damn sun.

You were glowing—golden in the late afternoon light, hair catching in the breeze, your smile easy as you laughed at something Maria said. Just standing there, sipping something cool, completely oblivious to the way he’d stopped in his tracks the second he laid eyes on you. Tommy excused himself as they arrived, saying a short ‘catch up with you later’.

Joel made himself move, rolling his shoulders, setting his jaw. 

Polite, he reminded himself. Gentle.

Joel had been raised right, after all.

So when he walked up to you, he made it seem easy, effortless. Like his hands weren’t itching with the need to touch. Like his pulse hadn’t just kicked up something fierce.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured as he approached behind you, his wide grip settling low on your hips.

You twisted around to face him, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “Hey, handsome.” Your hands slid around his neck as you pressed up for a kiss—soft, warm, sweet with the taste of iced tea and that cherry chapstick you always wore.

Joel had to fight with every fiber of his being not to haul you over his shoulder and carry you straight home.

Didn’t help that you hummed against his lips, content and tender, fingers brushing at the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself before he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Pretty thing like you’s got half of Jackson lookin’.”

You grinned, fingers still playing lazily with the curls at his nape. “That so?”

Joel huffed, the corner of his mouth tilting up, but there was something weighted behind the way his fingers flexed against your hips, pressing in just a little firmer.

“Mm,” he hummed, voice dipping low. “S’pose I can’t blame ‘em.” His thumb brushed the fabric of your dress, right where it pressed into the soft skin of your waist. His restraint was hanging by a thread. “Ain’t their fault you’re the prettiest thing out here.”

“You’re sweet,” you said, a tinge of pink painting your cheeks. 

His hand squeezed at your hip, just once, and then he exhaled sharply, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before finally—finally—forcing himself to step back.

Because if he didn’t, this picnic was about to end real fast.

You turned to grab him a beer from the cooler, Tommy’s homemade brew—practically gold now that the days were creeping past eighty degrees. The glass was cool against your fingertips as you popped the cap and turned back, pressing it into Joel’s waiting hand.

“Figured you could use one.”

Joel took it with a small nod, taking a slow sip. “Thanks, darlin’.”

His voice was warm, easy like he hadn’t spent the last several minutes imagining what he planned to do you tonight.

You tilted your head, teasing. “Anything for you, cowboy.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner, “Don’t say that just yet,”

Something in the air shifted, something subtle, something unspoken but you felt it coursing through you, a warmth that brought a flush to your neck.

Joel’s eyes lingered, dark and steady, holding yours like he had all the time in the world. A slow, searching kind of stare, like he was committing the sight of you to memory, like he had something he wanted to say if you were surrounded by a crowd.

You felt the heat of it traveling from your cheeks to your stomach with toe curling intensity..

The fire crackled nearby. Someone laughed in the distance. The music played on.

But before either of you could say anything else, someone clapped him on the back—Tommy again, grinning, dragging him into conversation with a few others, leaving you standing there with a knowing little smirk.

Still, you stayed close.

And so did he.

The afternoon passed in a slow, easy blur. Music drifted through the warm air, laughter rang across the field, and Joel—Joel was everywhere.

His hand at your lower back as you walked through the crowd.

His arm slung over the back of your chair when you sat beside him at one of the makeshift picnic tables.

His fingers brushing over your thigh when he leaned in to murmur something low in your ear, just for you.

It wasn’t deliberate, at least not in the way most folks would notice. But you felt it—felt the way his touches lingered a second longer than necessary, the way his gaze dropped to your legs when the hem of your dress rode up just a little, the way his jaw clenched whenever you gave other men any of your attention–as kind and endearing as you were. It wasn’t your fault. You were kind, warm, effortlessly magnetic. People were drawn to you, it was just who you were.

Joel Miller was trying to behave.

And failing miserably.

By the time the sun had long dipped below the mountains, the stars shining in the dark blue sky above, he was done pretending.

You were settled on his lap, your bare legs draped over his, firelight flickering against your skin. The air was balmy, thick with the scent of burning wood and cool summer breeze, but your skin was warm against him.

His hand rested easy on the outside of your thigh at first, a casual thing, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin. But as the fire burned lower, so did his restraint. Slowly, lazily, his palm inched higher—skimming up, up, until his fingers slipped beneath your dress, disappearing into the soft folds of fabric.

And then he gripped you, fingers pressing into the juncture of your thigh and ass, squeezing like he just needed something to hold onto.

You jolted slightly, a sharp breath slipping past your lips as you swatted at his arm. “Joel.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t even pretend to be innocent, his fingers flexing again, kneading the flesh beneath his palm.

You tried to glare, but the traitorous smile pulling at your lips ruined the effect. “Behave yourself.”

Joel huffed out a quiet chuckle, looking up at you with something wicked in his eyes. His hand stayed exactly where it was.

“You gon’ make me?” he murmured, voice low, rough enough to leave goosebumps in its wake.

Your breath hitched. And then, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud—like it had slipped past his lips before he could stop it—he exhaled, voice all gravel and want:

“This dress.”

His hand beneath your dress slid back down, fingering at the hem of the white lace, so pale now compared to your warm skin.

Your breath caught, eyes flickering down to where his fingers toyed with the fabric. His own gaze stayed locked on your face, watching every little shift, every little reaction.

When his thumb ghosted over your kneecap, you swallowed hard, thighs pressing together instinctively.

“Look so pretty, baby,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with want as he leaned into the shell of your ear. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to drive me outta my mind.”

And maybe you were.

You knew how much Joel loved you in dresses. It was something about the way they softened you, how the fabric clung to your curves just right, how effortless and feminine you looked draped in lace and light cotton. He never outright said it, but you saw it in the way his hands lingered, in the way his eyes darkened whenever you wore something delicate—something that made you look like you were made for pretty things.

Joel might have been a rough man, all grit and strength, but it was the softness that undid him.

Your back arched into him just an inch, barely anything, but enough that he felt it. Enough that the warmth of your body, the scent of you, the soft brush of your hair against his cheek made his brain go sluggish, thick with something hot and needy.

And then you looked at him.

Heavy-lidded, dazed, lips parted just slightly—like you were already halfway gone before he’d even laid his hands on you. It made something tighten in his chest, made his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, an involuntary reaction to just how badly he wanted to feel more of you.

Your hand came up to his face, and before either of you could think twice, you were leaning in.

The kiss was nothing like the ones you’d shared earlier—no teasing, no gentle sweetness. This was urgent, all heat and hunger, your tongue kitten-licking at his bottom lip, testing, tasting, making his half-hard cock twitch beneath his jeans. He nearly groaned, nearly let it slip from his throat, but his grip on control was thin, fraying at the edges.

Because when you pulled away, instead of giving him space, you leaned in, lips brushing his ear, your breath warm and an octave lower than your usual sweet lilt.

“Let's go home,” you whispered, kissing along his earlobe, voice barely there—but it hit him like an electric shock.

That was all it took.

Joel was like an animal waiting for his trigger word, waiting for the command to be free, to take what he wanted.

He stood slowly, deliberately, trying to keep himself cool, calm, polite—saving face only because he owed that to you. Not because he cared what people thought. Hell, half of Jackson already had enough to say about him.

But he behaved for you.

For his girl.

Joel stood slowly, setting your legs down gently as he rose, his palm grazing the small of your back—just barely, just enough to feel the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. You stayed close, bodies still humming from the heat of each other, lingering even as you murmured your goodbyes.

But the further you got from the crowd, the needier your touches became.

Your fingers curled around his arm, holding tight, your body leaning into his, pressing into the solid warmth of him with every step. And Joel—Joel wasn’t any better. His hand had already found its way around your waist, fingers spreading over your hip like he couldn’t stand not touching you.

It wasn’t until you turned the corner onto your own street—finally alone—that Joel came to a sudden stop.

Your brows furrowed, about to ask what was wrong, but before you could even get the words out, he bent down and hauled you over his shoulder in one smooth, effortless motion.

A sharp gasp left your lips. “Joel!”

“Shoulda done this an hour ago,” he muttered, not even remotely apologetic. His grip tightened around the back of your thighs, adjusting you against him like you weighed nothing. And then—just to make sure you knew exactly what kind of mood he was in—his palm slid up the back of your legs, landing a sharp swat against the bare skin of your ass.

A squeak slipped from your throat, your fingers digging into the back of his shirt as you squirmed in his hold.

“Joel!” you hissed, but he could hear the grin despite the scandalized tone.

“Shh…” He chuckled, his grip tightening around your thighs as he strode up the porch steps. “Don’t want the neighbors pokin’ their heads out, do ya?”

The wood groaned beneath his boots, but he didn’t so much as hesitate, not even as he crossed the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him without breaking stride. He had one thing on his mind.

One destination.

You barely had time to process the familiar path of your home before Joel was hauling you up the stairs like you weren’t even there—still slung over his shoulder, still gripping onto him as your laughter mixed with the sound of his heavy footfalls.

And then suddenly—you were airborne.

A startled gasp left your lips as he bounced you onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath you, breathless and winded. You propped yourself up on your elbows, hair tousled and wild, looking up at him as he stood at the edge of the bed, staring you down like he was about to devour you whole.

Your chest rose and fell, your pulse thrumming with a mixture of anticipation and amusement.

“What’s gotten into you, old man?” you teased, breathless but grinning.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, shaking his head slightly as he pulled off your boots. Once discarded, he hooked his arms under your knees, dragging you down the mattress, pressing you into him. The motion sent your dress hiking up around your waist, leaving you spread open beneath him, your panties on perfect display.

“Oh, hunny,” he drawled, looking at the damp patch on the fabric, “you keepin’ this from me?”

Before you could answer, he leaned down, hands trailing up your thighs, easing them over his shoulders. The first brush of his lips against the fabric was slow, deliberate—a kiss to your panty-clad mound, soft but enough to make you shudder. 

Then he kept going. Mouth trailing lower, teasing.

Your head tipped back at the feeling of his beard grazing your sensitive skin, a breathy moan slipping out as your elbows gave, dropping you onto the bed completely. One hand found his hair, gripping, your fingers tangling in the dark curls streaked with silver. He watched you, eyes drinking you in. 

“N-no,” you breathed, “Always yours, Joel,”

“I know, baby, I know.” he cooed, voice softer now, full of reverence. He reached up, gripping the gusset of your panties, wrapping a thick finger around the damp fabric, tugging it to the side to reveal exactly what he wanted. His beard scraped against you when he kissed the skin of your thigh, sending a shockwave through your body, making you twitch beneath him.

A whimper left your lips, your hips lifting without thinking.

Joel chuckled, low and knowing, watching as your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Aw, she’s flirtin’ with me, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, pressing another slow, deliberate kiss against you. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted. “Wish you could see just how pretty she looks right now.”

“Joel.” It was a whimper, a plea, a warning.

His lust blown eyes flicked up to yours, his mouth still hovering just over where you needed him most. “What is it, baby?”

You swallowed, hips shifting, heat pooling low in your belly.

“Please.”

Joel hummed, dragging his mouth closer but still not giving you what you wanted. “Please what?”

Because hell, he’d spent all damn day watching you, aching for you, burning with want while you smiled and laughed and let that damn dress drive him to madness. If anything, he deserved to have his fun now. He needed to hear you say it.

Your fingers flexed in his hair, a little tug, a little desperation, “Please touch me, Daddy.”

Joel’s blood turned molten. Heat roared through him so fierce, so instant, it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. And maybe you knew exactly what that word did to him.

He dipped his head back down, tongue sliding through your folds, groaning against you as he finally gave in. You were so warm, so slick, so ready for him that he had to take a second just to breathe, just to let himself have this.

His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs pressing into soft flesh as he held you open for him, his mouth working slow, savoring. You shuddered beneath him, your fingers twisting into his hair, your body already arching toward his mouth like you couldn’t help yourself.

His tongue flicked against your clit, lazy at first, teasing, before dipping lower to drink you in, groaning as he tasted you properly. Slow and deep, his tongue pressed inside you, inching in, sliding out, before licking back up and pursing his lips around your clit, sucking and grazing his teeth, making your hips jerk against his mouth.

His beard scraped against your thighs, rough and warm, the contrast making you tremble harder beneath him. Every movement was deliberate, unhurried, like he was relearning you all over again, savoring every sound, every twitch, every sharp gasp that slipped past your lips.

Joel’s hands flexed against your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles into your skin, grounding you as his mouth worked you into a pliant mess.

“Need to get her ready for me,” he murmured, voice muffled against you, words spoken more to himself than to you. His mouth never left you as one broad hand slid between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers traced over your entrance, prodding the pool of arousal there.

“So damn soft,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down to kiss the inside of your thigh, his breath hot against your slick skin. “And already so wet for me. She likes it when I take my time, don’t she, baby?”

You could barely think, barely breathe, too lost in the slow, perfect way he touched you.

You only nodded, voice failing you as his finger finally pushed inside—just one at first, easing in with aching patience, stretching you open. A ragged moan left your lips, fingers twisting in his hair as he curled it just right, pressing against that spot inside you that made your whole body shudder.

He hummed in approval, lips finding your clit again, his tongue swirling slow, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

“You make the prettiest noises for me," he murmured against you, his voice thick and rough with hunger. He slid another finger in, stretching you wider, pumping them in and out in a slow, steady pace, feeling the way your walls fluttered around him.

Your body was already tightening, your thighs trembling, your breath hitching into soft, broken whimpers. You couldn’t stop yourself from rocking into him, chasing that feeling, your pleasure building with every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers, every teasing flick of his tongue.

Joel could feel it, the way you clenched down around him, the way your legs shook against his shoulders.

“There she is,” he murmured, pressing a kiss right over your clit before sucking it back into his mouth, his fingers pressing up into your soft, velvety walls. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel her.”

That was all it took–your body tensed, the pleasure cresting and crashing all at once as you came around his fingers, a sharp, broken cry slipping from your lips. Your thighs squeezed around his head, but Joel didn’t stop, didn’t slow, working you through it, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him.

He groaned low, almost like he was the one falling apart, dragging his fingers slow as he eased you down, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh.

“So goddamn sweet for me,” he muttered, voice wrecked, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks rolling through you as Joel pressed one last lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling back.

He looked wrecked.

His beard glistened, slick with your release, lips swollen and parted, chest rising and falling a little too fast. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, drinking you in like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real.

His hands slid up your legs, slow and deliberate, until they gripped your waist, spreading you open beneath him as he crawled over you, pressing his weight into you. The fabric of your dress was still bunched around your hips, the lace soft beneath his calloused hands, but he liked that you kept it on.

Something about how pretty you looked in it, something about knowing he was the only one who got to see you like this.

His hands found your face, cupping it, tilting your chin up, and then his mouth was on yours. Hot, deep and unyielding.

You moaned softly into the kiss, your fingers sliding into his hair as he stole every breath from your lungs. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, his beard damp against your chin as he pressed in harder, hungrier. It was so much—too much and not enough all at once.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, you were looking up at him, your thumb brushing against the slick sheen on his jaw, your heart pounding.

"Can I take care of you, daddy?" you whispered, voice warm and so damn sweet it made his chest ache.

But he was already shaking his head, already unbuckling his belt, already too far gone to let you do anything but take him.

"Not tonight, baby," he murmured, his low drawl barely audible. His belt hit the floor, his jeans sliding low on his hips as he leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time.

"I need to feel you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, more raw. His hand ran down your thigh, fingers pressing into soft skin, feeling you, grounding himself in you. "If you put that pretty mouth on me, there won’t be a chance in hell I get to feel you cum on my cock, ‘cause I’d be done in minutes with the state you got me in."

You let out a breathy laugh, eyes warm as your hands smoothed down his sides, fingers dipping into the waistband of his jeans, helping him push them lower.

"That bad, huh?" you teased.

Joel exhaled a shaky chuckle, dropping his forehead to yours, barely holding himself together as he pulled himself free.

"Worse," he admitted.

His cock was thick, flushed, leaking, the head dragging through your slick, teasing you. Joel groaned low at the feeling of your slick arousal coating the tip of himself, his lips brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his voice just a whisper.

“Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

You arched your back into him, the flimsy straps of your dress slipping down your shoulders as you reached for him, arms winding around his neck, legs hooking around his waist like you couldn’t stand the thought of space between you.

Joel sucked in a sharp breath as you pulled him in, his body pressing flush against yours. His one handed planted by your head, the other guiding the wide tip of his cock at your weeping entrance, then slowly sank into you like he’d been starving for it all damn day.

He had, in fact.

“Jesus,” he rasped, voice strained as he bottomed out completely, a moan tearing through his throat as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. He held still for a second, letting you adjust, letting himself breathe before his lips brushed against your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Always take my cock so good,” 

You were breathless, feeling split in two around him, your lips parted, jaw slack, head falling back against the bedspread. Joel took his time kissing along your jaw, lips trailing soft and slow as he felt the way your body tightened around him. His cock twitched despite how patient he was trying to be.

“Daddy,” you breathed, voice barely there, and as he pulled out inch by inch, he watched your eyes flutter shut, your body clenching down on him like you never wanted to let him go. Joel groaned, pushing back in, slow but deep, not stopping until his hips were pressed flush to yours.

And when he pulled out again, the obscene, wet sound of your slick walls taking him made you both moan in tandem, his agonizingly slow pace making every sensation sharper, every sound deeper, more electric.

Joel kissed the corner of your mouth, voice thick. “Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. S’like she was made to take me, huh?”

You whined softly, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, legs tightening around him, desperate for more.

“Need—need you to—” you tried, but your mind was foggy, wrecked, gone. You needed more. Needed him to let go, to take it. Needed to feel the weight of all that pent-up frustration from the day, from the way you’d teased him with every flash of your thigh, every fleeting touch, every slow, knowing smile.

Joel kissed your temple, his hands roaming, soothing, adoring, wanting. “Tell me, baby,” he murmured, “tell me what you need.” His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and full of something tender. “I’ll give you anything—give you the whole damn world if you asked.”

Your heart swelled, warmth pooling in your chest before another wave of want took over. You smiled up at him, fingers smoothing up his back, knowing exactly what you wanted to hear from him.

"Want it harder, Joel." Your voice was thick as you swallowed, mind finally clearing enough to put your need into words. "You were so good all day, even when you knew I was teasing."

You heaved a breath as his eyes opened fully, locking onto you, dark and unreadable as he listened.

"So polite," you murmured, pressing a slow kiss to his lips before your fingers slid into his hair, tightening just enough to make him exhale, "Such a gentleman. Show me, Joel—show me what you wanted to take all day."

His eyes twinkled with amusement for a brief second—right before you clenched down around him, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper. His cock twitched, stiffened, his breath stalling as his fingers dug into your skin.

"You want me to fuck you stupid, baby? That what you need?" His voice was low, wrecked, something dark laced in it now. "Cause all I wanted to do all damn day was bend you over and shove my cock in you so goddamn bad. Show you exactly how crazy you make me."

"Show me," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chin, his beard tickling your lips as it trailed along his jaw. "Please, Daddy. Let me feel it."

Joel didn’t hesitate.

His hands tightened at your waist, steady and commanding, before sitting up and rolling you onto your stomach in one fluid motion. His cock stayed inside you, the shift in position knocking the air from your lungs, the new angle making you feel every inch of him in a way that had your fingers digging into the sheets.

Before you could even process it, his palms pressed between your shoulder blades, guiding you down until your chest met the mattress, ass lifted, legs spread, completely open for him.

That’s when you felt the delicate lace of your dress catching beneath his knee, the soft fabric now bunched awkwardly between you.

Your breath wavered. Fingers twitching against the sheets, you hesitated before murmuring, "Should I take this off?"

He smoothed a hand over your ass, his other gripping the bunched-up fabric of your dress so it was pulled into his fist.

"You're keepin' it on," he murmured, his voice edged with something rough, something final. The way his fingers tightened in the fabric told you just how much he'd already thought about this moment—how long he'd wanted it, pictured it, waited for it, "want you just like this."

You barely had time to whimper before he pulled you back into him, sinking deep, stretching you open all over again.

Joel groaned, a long, deep, guttural noise from his throat, his one hand at your waist, the other pulling you back via his fist in your dress as he set the pace. He was slow at first, making sure you felt every thick inch, every ridge and vein of his throbbing cock before pulling out and snapping his hips forward again.

"Christ," he rasped, his free hand sliding up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, holding you steady as he leaned over you a bit, "You feel that, baby? Feel how fuckin' deep I am?"

All you could do was nod, moaning brokenly as he buried himself to the hilt, again and again, dragging you back onto him each time.

Joel groaned, dropping his head forward for a second before his grip tightened on your dress again, using it to pull you back into him.

"Greedy little thing," he murmured, his fingers gripping tighter at your waist as he rolled his hips deeper. "That what you wanted, baby? Want me to fuck you just like this?"

"Yes," you gasped, voice breaking on the word. "Just like that, Joel."

Your breath came rough and uneven, and then his grip on your dress tightened, fingers bunching up the fabric at your waist. He used it to pull you back onto him, meeting each thrust with an unrelenting force, his other hand splaying across your back to keep you steady.

"Look at you," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with something wrecked and reverent all at once. "Takin’ it so good. My perfect girl."

The praise sent heat licking up your spine, your body tightening around him in response. He felt it, too—felt the way you clenched down on him, the way your legs trembled as he drove into you harder.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, leaning over you as his hand slipped under you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your breath hitch. "You gonna come for me again? Hmm?"

You nodded frantically, pushing back into him, desperate for more. "Please, Joel," you whimpered. "Need it."

"Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice softer now, lips brushing the back of your shoulder, his thrusts still deep but growing rougher, more urgent. "Gonna give it to you, sweetheart. Gonna feel you come all over me."

His fingers pressed firmer against your clit, circling in a perfect rhythm as his cock dragged against that sweet spot inside you, his name slipping from your lips in a broken moan as the tension in your belly tightened, ready to snap.

"That's it, baby," Joel groaned, voice ragged. "Come for me, let me feel her on my cock."

And with the way he was moving, the way he was touching you, the way he was whispering those wrecked, adoring words against your skin—you had no choice but to let go.

Pleasure sparked white over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as your body shook, your voice lost in a strangled cry. Joel cursed under his breath, his thrusts faltering for a moment as he felt you unravel around him, his hands gripping you tight, holding you through it.

"That's my girl," he muttered, voice thick, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck as he kept moving, chasing his own release, determined to follow you over the edge, "Good fucking girl,"

Joel’s thrusts turned sloppy, desperate, deep, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. His grip on your waist tightened, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice thick and wrecked, his body locking up as he buried himself to the hilt, pressing deep, holding you there.

And then he was gone.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he spilled inside you, heat flooding you as his cock pulsed, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he rode it out. He pressed his forehead against your back, breath warm against your skin, hands smoothing over your hips as if grounding himself, holding you tight, keeping you close.

He stayed there for a moment, still inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back, lips trailing soft, absentminded kisses along your shoulder as he caught his breath. His hands never stopped moving, stroking your skin with quiet adoration.

"You okay, baby?" he murmured into your hair as he placed a kiss on your head, voice low and tender, so different from the way he’d just wrecked you.

You nodded, still catching your breath, body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Joel pressed a final kiss to your cheek before slowly, carefully pulling out, groaning low at the sight of where he’d filled you up, his release already starting to slip out of you.

"Made a mess of you, darlin’," he muttered, his voice warm, affectionate. "Stay right there."

You barely had the strength to move, muscles still loose and spent, but you felt the bed shift as Joel slipped away. You blinked sleepily as he disappeared into the bathroom, only to return a moment later with a damp cloth.

His hands were gentle, reverent as he cleaned you up, taking his time, murmuring soft words of praise under his breath.

"There we go, baby," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lower back as he worked. "Always take care of my girl."

Once he was satisfied, he reached for the bunched-up fabric of your dress, his fingers sliding beneath the hem.

"Let’s get this off you, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion but still warm, still full of something tender.

His touch was unhurried, guiding the fabric up your body, letting the fabric peel away from your skin, soft and slow. as you held your arms up for him. He didn’t rush, didn’t let the moment pass without appreciating you all over again.

Once it was gone, he tossed it aside and crawled up beside you in the bed to pull you into his arms, rolling you onto your side, tucking you against his chest.

His arms were strong, solid and warm, one hand smoothing up and down your back, the other tangling in your hair as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

"You still with me?" he murmured, lips ghosting over your temple.

You hummed softly, pressing closer, letting yourself melt into his embrace.

"Good," he sighed, voice low, spent, but content. His fingers traced slow, aimless circles along your spine, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath your cheek, anchoring you to him, "Love you, sweetheart,"

"I love you, Joel." you murmured, your voice barely there, the warmth of him pulling you under into a deep sleep.

[kilojulietsierra]

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter One (Dr. Robby x fem!reader)

Intro chapter to a little Dr Robby x reader that's a part of my series Save Me From Myself. If you'd like to check those out!

Send Me An Angel (Dr Abbot x nursewife!ofc)

I don't Have A Best Friend (Dr Abbot & Dr Robby and their 'not friends' friendhip)

Summary: You just happened to notice a picture on your charge nurses laptop that sparks a little crush on a sexy, older ER Doc you’ve never met. She is more than happy to set you two up, but you and Dr. Robby both seem to have some reservations. Until you actually meet each other.

TW: 18+ content, age gap, inappropriate humor, flirting, awkwardness, nothing too crazy in this one, barely proofread or spell checked. Don't worry this one's just getting started.

~~~~Chapter One~~~

It all started when the charge nurse, Sam, left her personal laptop on her desk and then got pulled away to help with a patient. You hadn't meant to snoop but her screensaver came up and began to cycle through photos. At first you only paid attention because a photo of Sam and her husband came up. They both had on shorts and t-shirts, dark sunglasses and huge hiking packs. They were standing on top of a mountain, arms around each other and smiling, with a picture perfect mountain valley as a backdrop.

Picture perfect.

You had never met Dr. Abbott, Sam's husband, only knew that he was an ER physician at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. In the photo they looked so happy and perfect together and it was both the sweetest thing you'd seen in some time and envy enducing. You couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time when it would be your turn. Your mind began to wander, jealousy and a little self pity at the forefront, when the screensaver changed again.

The next photo was very different. Three men in sharp, black, suits at some sort of event. You could see the crowd in the background and you recognized Jack on the left from the previous photo. The other two were strangers to you, but the one on the right… you culdn't help but think you would not mind getting to know him.

"Aww, I forgot I had that picture on here."

You jump a little, feeling like you got caught. "Sorry I didn't mean to snoop." You apologized as Sam dropped into her chair.

"Stop it, it's fine." She paused for a minute and watched until the photo switched before she woke the laptop up. "I love that picture."

"How come?" You ask cautiously. She looks a little softer than normal so you try to tread lightly.

Your shift lead smiles and clicks through the laptop until she finds the photo and pulls it up again. "That's Jack," She points to her husband, "This is Doctor Adamson, he used to be the ED Director at PTMC, and that's Robby." She points to the one on the right with the dark beard. "I think this is actually the last picture of the three of them together." She took a long moment to look at it and then must see the look on your face because she explained, "Doc Adamson passed away not long after this. He was… great man is not even close." She smiled and chuckled a little, "God, he loved these two and God knows why."

"Was he their attending or something?" You ask still scared to be too nosey, but curious to know.

"He hired them both. Robby idolized him, Adamson taught him anything and everything, took him in. I don't think Jack needed a mentor quite like Robby did, but if that man liked you he would do anything for you."

"Does he still work there? Robby I mean."

Sam nodded and took one last look at the photo before she closed it. "Yeah he's one of the ED day shift attendings."

"Are they still friends? Him and your husband?"

"Oh God, more like brothers. Mostly in the sense that they love eachother, but some days it's really hard to tell by the way they act." Sam rolled her eyes and then got back to work.

The conversation over, you left to go back to your charting and think about the sexy dayshift attending you had very suddenly developed a little crush on without even knowing him.

~~~~~

One night awhile later, an oddly slow night, you swiveled back and forth in your chair and built the nerve to ask. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" She doesn't look up from the shift schedule she's had to redo for the third time.

"Can I ask you kind of a personal question?" You chew on the inside of your cheek and wait.

She looks up at that, her brow furrowed but face still generally pleasant, "Sure, if you're brave."

"Your husband is... older than you, right?" You start cautiously.

Even more skeptical she nods, "A bit yeah."

You had kind of hoped she'd give a more informative answer, but of course she didn't. "How old? If you don't mind me asking."

Sam was clearly only getting more and more confused, but again she answered and this time she did it with a smile. " Jack is 46, and because I have a feeling you're going to ask, I'm 39."

Your face flushed you consider leaving it at that. Honestly you thought she would be younger. She looks great for nearly 40 and seven years difference doesn't really answer your question. You're committed though so you continue, "Do people ever like, say anything? Because you're younger, you look great so you look, not that he looks super old! You know what? Never mind." You can feel your face flush and you seriously consider if you could disappear under the desk.

Sam, steady, patient, no-nonsense Sam, busted out a laugh and said, "Why don't you take a second and sort your thoughts out and ask whatever it is you want to ask?"

"I'm so sorry."

"You are fine. Just tell me what's up." She gives you a smile and nod of encouragement.

After a deep breath you go for it, "God this is so weird, please don't hate me, but is being with him still... like, I don't know....since he is older, is it still..."

It's obvious she has to try not to laugh again, but she takes pity on you and answers they question you couldn't quite bring yourself to ask. "I met Jack when I was 22, he was 29, I'd had a few shitty high school, college boyfriends before that. Jack put them all to shame in every aspect of our relationship." She smirked a little, "And continues to do so." Sam gives you a mischevious wink and chuckles a little at your clear embarrassment. "As far as onyone having shit to say, sure they might, but fuck them and their opinions."

You weren't sure what you'd expected her to say. You did know that you hadn't expected that.

"Does that help whatever it is you're trying to figure out?" Your supervisor has one knee crossed over the other and honestly, it looks like she's just waiting for you to crack and give her all the details.

"Maybe. Kind of." Was the best you could give her.

Her smile gets soft again, "So... is there an older guy in your life or something?"

"No! Not- not yet anyway I mean."

"But, you're thinking about it."

"God no! I mean yeah, I guess it's kind of crossed my mind recently."

After a moment to absorb that informariton she digs deeper, "How much older? I'm guessing it's more than seven years? For what it's worth, it doesn't feel like that big of a difference. Ten years? More?"

"I'm not sure. Your excitement is scary by the way."

Sam skips over the comment totally, "So, you're not sure how much older he is?"

"Umm no. Do you know how old Jacks ER doc friend is? Robby?" There it was. Now you knew you just had to wait for the judgement.

She had to think for a minute, "Fifty. No, not yet. I think he turns 50 this year. You think he's about the same..." It dawns on her then and even with the scarce information you've provided her over the last few months. The casual comments or questions when she brought him up in conversation. You can see the moment she puts it together. "Oh..."

"Please don't be mad!."

"Why would I be mad!?"

"It's just that he's your friend and I don't know him, It's stupid, I'm sure he's married or,"

"Oh no, he's single." She interrupted you mid sentence. "So Robby? Really?"

"I mean, I've never met him or anything, and I've only seen that one photo, but you talk about him and, and why are you pulling out your phone? Sam, no what're you doing? Please don't!"

"Relax," She laughs again as she taps and swipes and types on her phone, "I'm finding you more pictures."

~~~~~

Nearly a week later and some of those pictures Sam had shown you now haunted your daydreams. Not that you were overly upset about it, but it did make day to day life a little more difficult. You had still never met the man, but Sam had happily shown you whatever pictures she had and even a couple videos. The videos, that was a whole other problem, because you had heard his voice and it was… problematic. Now you could imagine what it would sound like for him to, well, say certain things.

The crack and fizz of a Monster can on the counter in front of you made you jump and when you saw who was on the other side of it, grinning at you like she was, your stomach dropped and your face felt hot.

"Morning sunshine," Sam had a shit eating grin on her face as she took her first sip of her energy drink, "What's got you so deep in thought this evening?"

You tried to recover. Shook your head and replied simply, "Nothing, just not awake yet I guess."

Sam didn't buy it for a second, but she didn't push the subject either. The grin didn't go away and she didn't move to come around behind the station either. Arms crossed on the counter she twisted the can around in little circles, "So… hypothetically speaking, if a certain ER doc I know would be interested in going out with a smart, beautiful, young woman such as yourself,"

"Sam," You cut her off, "You did not. Please tell me you didn't."

Still with that same grin she shook her head, "I didn't, yet, but I would like to if you are really interested?"

"I don't know, it feels silly and I have so much going on."

"So?"

Sam, short, sweet and to the point at the most annoying times. "I mean…" You had to swallow down some nerves. Push aside all the negative thoughts that popped up, "Do you think he would?"

"I think he'd be an idiot not to."

"That's not what I asked."

She took a deep breath and a sip of her Monster, "Ok, full disclosure; he hasn't had the best luck with women and his job, and everything that comes with, I think is a part of that. You know how it can be, but he's who I'd call if I needed anything and coulldn't get Jack. He's the sweetest and annoyingly intelligent, he gives hugs that feel like they could fix a little part of your soul and yeah, sometimes he's a little dark and sarcastic, but he's usually pretty funny." She gives you a smile that's a little more encouraging than teasing, "He's the big brother I never wanted and I love him to death, and I would love to see you two get to know each other. You don't have to decide right now. Just, if you decide you want to, let me know."

After that the topic was dropped. Except you thought about it all night.

You waited, until the last possible second. You watched as Sam shoved everything in her backpack and turned to clock out on the computer. She was halfway to the door when you finally decided, for sure. "Sam!"

She turned, "Yeah?"

"Could, do you think we could do something low key? I don't know if I have it in me to, I don't even know if I could go on like a legit…." You couldn't help but laugh at yourself as you tried again, "Do you think, if he is interested, that we could do like a double date or something? Maybe it would be less awkward?"

Sam smiled, the pretty soft one that showed off her freckles and made you a tiny bit jealous, "What if we just invited you both over to the house for dinner? It's still nice, we can eat out on the patio by the fire. Just hang out. How would that sound?"

That's when you notice that you're smiling too, nervous but a little excited maybe, "That sounds good."

~~~~~~

Getting ready had taken too long, your nerves had gotten the better of you. Sam had said not to go overboard, dress casual and comfy and warm enough to eat dinner out on the patio. You pulled up to the house later than you had wanted. You weren't late but you had wanted to be earlier.

When your Waze app said you had arrived you took in the house before you and cautiously pulled into the empty spot in the driveway. You weren't really sure what you had expected, but this wasn't it.

The house was nice, not fancy or anything, but nice, on a huge lot in a culdesac and the yard and landscaping was immaculate. You weren't convinced it was Sam's house until you see her shiny and sleek, blacked out Tahoe parked in the open garage and what you assumed was Jacks nearly matching, blacked out SIlverado backed into one side of the driveway, both with US Army Veteran license plates. There was another truck parked in the drive that doesn't quite match the vibe, so you assume it must be Robby's. It's not as new, not as... assertive. The second truck looks like something that you could take to run errands , down to the river to fish or maybe help a friend move.

Once you parked you took a deep breath, pushed down the nerves and climbed out of your car. The garage door is open but that felt too forward, so you head for the front door and ring the door bell. You can't help but notice the Ring doorbell isn't the only camera at the front of the house.

It takes a minute for Sam to answer, but when she does she has a smile on her face and laughs a little, "I don't think anyone has used the front door since the Realtor showed us the house." She stepped aside and waved you in, "Next time just come through the garage. If the big door is open, it's unlocked"

The casual way she says 'next time' spikes your anxiety a little. You two had got a long well enough, but the way she said it you couldn't help but take it to mean 'the next time you and Robby come over'.

The inside of the house matched the outside. Nothing fancy, but clean and tidy, lived in enough to feel comfortable and the blackout curtains were pulled open to let in the last of the afternoon sunlight.

Sam interrupted your browsing from the kitchen, "Do you drink wine?"

You nod, "Sure, as long as it's not super dry."

Sam chuckled and pulled down a glass, "Don't worry, the shit I drink might as well be grape juice." She picked up a bottle that was already open on the counter and poured you a glass. "C'mon, boys are out back."

The patio was honestly awesome, with an outdoor couch and patio set, and a flatscreen TV mounted over the fireplace which was lit. Beyond the patio was a pool and a beautiful back yard and once you had taken it all in with wide eyes your gaze fell on the guys. Specifically Robby, because seeing him in person for the first time honestly kind of knocked the wind out of you for a second.

God bless Sam because she stepped to your side and called Jack over so she could introduce you to him first. Which gave you at least a moment to regroup before you had to be face to face with Robby.

He was taller than you had expected, and broader too. His eyes were dark and looked so kind, yet there was something in them that reminded you of those boys in elementary school that would tug on your braids to tease you.

When Sam introduced him as Robby he corrected her, "Michael." which confused you for a moment, but his voice was so much better in person that you don't really think too much about it.

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but nobody actually calls you that."

He didn't break eye contact with you as he responded, his hand large and warm around yours, "She can, if she wants to."

Everyone was silent for a moment and you feel so light headed you might float away. You can't look away from him, but you catch the way that Sam hides a smile in her wine glass and she turns to exchange a look with her husband.

~~~~~

Robby had not been been prepared, not even the slightest bit, for how gorgeous you were. Sam had said you were young, smart, sweet... that didn't do you justice.

Michael, he wanted, needed to hear you call him by his given name.

He also couldn't help but take a minute to imagine this differently, in the future maybe. Where you were here with him, for dinner with friends and you would send the evening curled up on the couch by the fire with him. Go home with him. Go to bed with him. He had to stop himself, shut that train of thought down early.

Just in case. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

~~~~~

Dinner was delicious and once you're done eating you can't help but think that if Sam wasn't so cool and quickly becoming the big sister you'd always dreamed of, you might hate her a little bit out of jealousy. It was a bit hard to sit across the table from her where she sat so effortlessly pretty, and smart, and tough, and talented. With her husband that was handsome, and badass, and successful, and apparently couldn't keep his hands off her.

You try to stop those thoughts, but you can't help but sink into that inadequate feeling you knew so well.

Until you glanced to your left and caught the way Robby... Michael, was watching you when he thought you weren't looking. When you do catch him staring, he just gives you a little smile. Then while the nerves remain, you feel like maybe there's no reason to feel less than. The fact that he didn't look away from you feels telling, even though in that moment you're not quite sure what it means.

Once the four of you moved to the couch in front of the outdoor fireplace you thought those nerves might disapate. The wine and the fire kept you warm, and so does sitting so close to Robby. Michael.

On the opposite corner of the couch Sam and Jack sat cuddled up next to each other. Not being inappropriate by any means, she's just tucked into Jacks side with his arm around her shoulder, his fingers stroking lazily over her arm. You glance away from them and back to R... Michael, while he and Jack talk about work.

How amazing would it feel to sit with him like that? You imagine yourself curled up on the couch, tucked into his side and the thought of it alone gives you goosebumps.

~~~~~

Robby had raised his voice as he fought to be heard over Sam, "You just walked on in like you owned the place, how was I supposed to know you were his wife?"

Sam retaliated, leaned forward from her seat on the couch, "Oh, I don't know, 'hi my name's Samantha Abbott, I'm looking for my husband' might have been your first clue!"

"That, you have to admit, sounds like you were looking for a patient."

"Which obviously means you should call security, I almost ended up in cuffs!"

"But, you didn't." He defended himself.

Jack tugged Sam back into her seat with one hand and stepped in, "Because I showed up and explained everything while you two were still yelling at each other like children." Jacks eyes moved to you, "As you can see not much has changed."

You had been laughing the whole time the two of them had been going at it, so hard by the end that your stomach hurt. How could you have known that one simple question about how they had all met would turn into… this. "That's amazing, I would have died of embarrassment."

Sam's face lights up, "Ohhh, if you think that's bad, you should hear about the first time Jack and I met." She turns to Jack and looks at him with a flirty smile and bright eyes like she was asking permission for something.

Beside you Robby, not Robby, Michael, looked like he was already trying to hold back his laughter. Jack on the other hand threw back the last of his bourban and shook his head, as if to say, no.

"Jack, c'mon… it's funny." She tried to convince him.

The look he gives her would be considered a scowl if it was directed at anyone but his wife, "Baby, not everyone has your fucked up sense of humor."

"I mean," Michael starts of with a chuckle, "I think it's funny."

"That's because it's at my expense." Jack fired right back at him

"Okay, you have to tell me now." Your laughter had died down enough to take another sip of wine, " I feel left out."

Sam looked back at her husband and waited. For a long moment they stared each other down while they have some silent conversation. Eventually Jack must cave, because he gave her a small nod. She couldn't even get the first word out before she started to laugh.

Jack shook his head and took a deep breath through his nose, "Sam was working as a trauma nurse at the Role III in Kandahar and I came in as a patient.

With her second wind Sam cut in, "No, you came in with three other guys all shot to shit, actively doing chest compressions on one and rattling off the Casevac report, with a through and through in your shoulder, a turniqet on one leg and a unit of blood strapped to your helmet, that you had started on yourself, in the field."

All laughter had left you and you found yourself holding your breath while you waited to see how this was supposed to turn into some sort of embarrassing 'meet cute' story. You looked over to Michael for some sort of confirmation and he gave it to you in the form of a soft smile and a wink that started your pulse to race.

Sam continued, "When we had to basically drag him off his teammate, so we could treat them both, the first thing out of his mouth once we got him on the gurney was, "If any of you fuckers are going to stick a finger up my ass make sure it's her, at least she's cute."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine as Sam and Robby both busted out into laughter. Once you were done coughing and awkwardly wiping the wine off your chin you nearly shouted, "Why!? Why the fuck would you say that?" Which only made them all laugh harder, especially Michael who seemed to be a little caught off guard by you dropping the f bomb for the first time.

Jack just shook his head at his wife tried to catch her breath beside him, "SOP."

"SOP?" You understood the acynym but not the context.

Sam gasped between giggles and braced her hand on jacks thigh "Yeah. He came in with multiple gsw's."

When you must've still looked a little lost Jack eplained, "MRIs and scans take time. Fastest way to check for spinal chord injury."

Michael chuckled, whistled a cartoonish little sound effect and spun his pointer finger in a little circle before thrusting it up into the air. It's obvious he's trying not to laugh, "Best pick up line ever." Sam is still giggling and Jack just continued to shake his head and grin at his wife.

Jack shrugged, "I'd lost a lot of blood, she was hot, it worked.

"That's seriously how you guys met? That's the first thing he ever said to you?" You gawked at the two of them, "And you're like, happily married now!"

This time it's Sam that shrugs, a little more collected but still with a big, bright smile and pink cheeks. "Look, when a sexy medic comes in with a Ranger tab on his arm and three GSW's, saves himself and three of his teammates and then still has sense of humor enough to make a joke about butt stuff… You just know he's a catch."

She was still a little giggly when Jack took her wine glass out of her hand and finished it as he stood up. It's him that gets the last laugh as he turned back to you and Michael, "Blind date doesn't feel so awkward now does it?"

Your face heat's up so fast you think you might melt and you do everything possible to avoid Michaels gaze. Instead you accidentally catch a glimpse as Jack leans over the back of the couch on his way inside. He takes a hold of Sam's jaw and tips her face up to him as he whispers something in her ear. You have to look away quickly as you flush even more. You catch Robby's gaze, Michael's gaze… and there it is, the thought of him touching you like that, whispering something inappropriate for company in your ear. Your stomach does a flip and you feel dizzy, but it has nothing to do with the wine.

~~~~~

Robby is the one to walk you to your car after dinner and you're nervous, "Can I ask a question Robby? And it might be the wine..."

"Michael," He corrected you as he pulled the door into the garage closed behind you both and guided you past the workout equipment and Sams Tahoe, "and go for it."

"Right, um, I just have to ask, because Sam's usually pretty no-nonsense at work."

He noded, "Like most good charge nurses."

"Are they always like that? The teasing and the flirting?" You felt silly but genuine curiosity and maybe a little wishful thinking drove you to wonder.

Michael slowed to a stop by your car and chuckled, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "Jack and Sam... I've known them a long time and to varying degrees, yes, they're always like that. I choose to think that they found each other young and are... making the most of it."

You chuckled a little and admitted, "I um, I don't know that I've... been around a couple that's that..." You hunted for the word.

"Affectionate?" He gives you a smile, "They are the most obnoxioulsy, healthy and in love couple I have ever been around myself, which should be taken with a grain of salt." For a minute he paused, and maybe it was the bourban or they way you looked a little flustered, but he added, "You've never been in a relationship where you couldn't keep your hands off each other?"

You flushed again and the way he looked at you made you wonder if he could tell. "Uh no, not since like my twenties," The fact that your twenties was significanlty more recent for you than for him made you nervous again, nearly panic as you added," College maybe, but still not like that." You glance up and he's still got the same look on his face. That easy smile and the crinkles in the corner of his eyes, those deep dark eyes. "What about you?"

He looked as surprised by your question as you felt. "Uh no, my twenties, this nose spent most of it's time in a book."

Oh God, you thought you might burn up right then and there, but he still had that same smile so you pushed, "Thirties?"

His face finally changed, he tipped his head to one side and crossed his arms, "Had it's moments, but mostly work."

Flirting, you were actually flirting with this man, in front of your bosses house. "What about your fourties?"

Michael paused, smile softened a little, "I uh... I got my hopes up a couple times, but still mostly just work. Unless the next few months get exciting."

His eyes locked onto yours and even though you felt your pulse in your ears you gave him a little smile, "You never know, they could." You finally unlock your car and then give him a last look before you know you need to leave, before you completely embarrass yourself. "Fifties could be the best yet."

Michael's eyes pop wide and you can see him chew on the inside of his cheek. He reached for your car door rand pulled it open for you, "Here's hoping."

~~~~~~~

Chaaapter Two - Read it now!

[steveseddie]

in bloom

written for the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event | prompt: rose | rating: t | wc: 2,3k | tags: modern setting, flower shop au, wayne is the owner, eddie works with him, meet cute

read on ao3

Work at the flower shop is always a little slow after Valentine’s Day.

Eddie has been helping Wayne at Munson’s Floral Treasures long enough to know this. They’ll still get orders, of course– fancy arrangements for weddings, smaller bouquets for birthdays and anniversaries, but most of these are ordered in advance. They don’t get many people walking in throughout the day, looking for a last-minute Valentine’s Day gift.

Eddie likes to send his uncle home on slow days like this. If there are no deliveries to be made and supplies aren’t coming in, Eddie is more than capable of handling however many customers come in by himself. If he can’t, all he has to do is run upstairs to the apartment and get Wayne.

So far there hasn’t been any need for that today. It’s been almost an hour since Eddie sent the old man away and no one has come into the shop. In the meantime, Eddie answers a few calls, writes down a couple of big orders, and sweeps the floor of the shop before going to the backroom to work on some new arrangements for their window display. In case anyone comes looking for a ‘Sorry I forgot about Valentine’s Day’ gift.

Eddie just got started on the second arrangement when the bell finally jingles.

He puts the shears down and steps out of the backroom, wiping his hands on his apron. “Greetings and welcome to Munson’s Floral Treasures!”

There’s a guy standing in the middle of the shop, facing away from Eddie as he studies the flowers covering the walls. He jumps when he hears Eddie, whirling around and offering a little wave. “Oh, hi.”

God, he’s pretty, Eddie thinks as he takes in the guy’s hazel eyes and soft lips. His eyes travel lower to the chest hair peeking out of the guy’s polo shirt and the way his jeans hug his thighs just right.

Then he remembers he’s working and ogling customers is probably rude. Clearing his throat, Eddie offers him a polite smile. “Can I help you?”

The guy shakes his hair out, running his hand through it to push it back. “Yeah, so, I have kind of a weird request.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Lucky for you, I love weird,” he says, which sounds a little weird and makes Eddie grimace. Jesus, try to be normal, Munson.

But the guy chuckles, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I– I need a bouquet that says ‘fuck you’ in a passive-aggressive way,” he says, his eyes flickering nervously over Eddie’s face.

“That’s it?” Eddie asks with a snort. “Because I promise you, man, that’s not the weirdest thing someone has asked for.”

The guy’s eyebrows shoot up. “No?”

“Nope,” he says, leaning on his elbows and gesturing at the guy to come closer like he’s sharing a secret. “One time a guy came in and asked for a flower arrangement to apologize for breaking into a home.”

A disbelieving laugh tumbles from the guy’s lips. “What? Really?”

“Yup. That was the first time that a sale ended with me having to talk to the police,” Eddie says before pursing his lips. “Actually no, that’d be when I used to deal weed in high school.”

The guy lets out a loud laugh, scrunching his shoulders in a way that has Eddie melting against the counter. Pretty, hot and cute. That can’t be fair. “Well, I doubt my bouquet will involve any police investigation.”

“No?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not planning on murdering whoever you’re giving it to?”

The guy’s nose scrunches up. “God, I wish, but no, this is just for my own amusement.”

“Good thing I happen to be in the business of amusing pretty guys,” Eddie says, shooting him a flirty grin, getting all up in his space until the guy’s eyes widen and Eddie pulls back. “Uh, customers! I meant customers, Jesus.”

Luckily, the guy seems far from bothered by Eddie’s flirting. In fact, his eyes sparkle with something that looks suspiciously like interest, his cheeks turning pink.

Most times when Eddie has to put together an arrangement he asks the person to check out the shop while he goes to the work table they keep in the back, but he really doesn’t want to waste a moment with this guy so he says fuck it and starts working on the bouquet right there on the counter.

He can feel the guy’s eyes watching him curiously.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Eddie starts, breaking the silence after a moment. “Who is this going to? Cheating girlfriend? Asshole boss? Shitty family member?”

He glances up just in time to catch the guy staring intently at Eddie’s hands as he works. When he feels Eddie’s attention on him, his head snaps up, the color on his cheeks deepening.

“Uh, no– no cheating girlfriend. No girlfriend at all actually,” he says. Then after a short pause, he adds, “no boyfriend either.”

Eddie almost drops the shears. It has to mean something that the guy wants him to know that, right?

Before Eddie can reply with something stupid like ‘good, do you want one?’ the guy keeps talking.

“You were right about the other two, though,” he says. “My shitty father is also my asshole boss.”

Eddie grimaces at that. Wayne is his dad in all ways that count and working with him isn’t bad, but for a second he entertains the idea of having to work with his father instead and already he’s convinced he’d need a couple of ‘fuck you’ bouquets too.

“Our firm is throwing him a party for signing this big company but they don’t care about how many people he had to fire for that to happen or how many of those so-called business trips he spent cheating on my mom,” the guy explains and Eddie lets out a sympathetic whistle.

“Fuck, man. That’s definitely shitty.”

The guy shoots him a tiny smile. “Yeah, and since I’m expected to attend, I thought I could at least get some enjoyment out of it.” He points at the flowers that Eddie is carefully selecting. “This seemed like a better idea than, like, sabotaging his party.”

Eddie lets out an amused snort. “Yeah, that’s probably smart.”

They fall into comfortable silence with the guy staring at Eddie while he works. This time it’s him who strikes up a conversation.

“So, uh, Eddie,” the guy starts, squinting his eyes to read the name tag on his shirt. “I’m not like, telling you how to do your job or anything but isn’t that a lot of orange and yellow? Aren’t those happy colors?”

“Actually, these orange lilies symbolize hatred,” Eddie explains. “And the yellow carnations symbolize rejection and disdain.”

The guy’s mouth falls open in an ‘o’ shape. He leans on the counter and picks another one of the flowers that Eddie has spread out on the counter. “What about this one?”

“Foxglove. They can represent insincerity and deceit.”

The guy nods along as Eddie continues to explain the meaning of every flower he has picked, his eyes sparkling with interest. Flower language is one of the many things Eddie could ramble about for hours, but people usually don’t care enough about it to hear him out. But this guy is listening intently, his chin resting on his hand as Eddie talks.

“And what does that mean?” He asks, pointing at the greens Eddie picked for filler.

“Nothing, that’s just greenery.”

“Oh,” the guy chuckles, ducking his head with an embarrassed little smile. “You– uh, you know a lot about flowers, man. How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was a little kid,” Eddie says, carefully arranging the greens. “My uncle owns the shop so even before I came to live with him I was helping out here. My dad wasn’t around much, he used to drop me off all the time so Wayne started teaching me how to take care of the flowers, how to make arrangements. Now I also help him with deliveries and stuff.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice. I've always liked flowers. And I like doing things with my hands,” Eddie says, wiggling his fingers with a smirk, watching as the guy’s eyes follow the movement.

“They’re good. Your hands,” he says, the color rising on his cheeks when his words catch up with him. “I mean, they look good. What they’re doing looks good.”

A pleased grin stretches over Eddie’s lips. “Thanks, big boy,” he says, grinning wider when the guy’s breath hitches.

“Uh, Steve. I’m Steve.”

Eddie thought he’d have to come up with an excuse to ask for his name, some bullshit about needing it for the receipt, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to now. “Well, Steve, any preference for the wrapping?”

“Um, no. You pick.”

“Alright,” Eddie says, grabbing some green wrapping paper and tying it neatly around the bouquet with a red bow. “All done.”

Steve grabs the bouquet with an awed smile. “It’s perfect. So pretty that no one will know I’m telling my dad he sucks.”

“I aim to please,” Eddie says, grinning smugly.

Steve chuckles, reaching into his jacket for his wallet and sliding a card across the counter. Eddie rings him up as slowly as he can get away with, not wanting Steve to go yet.

By the way Steve lingers after Eddie hands his card back, maybe he doesn’t want to either.

“I should go, let you get back to work,” Steve says eventually. Eddie tries not to look too disappointed. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie. Good luck with your dad.”

Steve makes a face but thanks Eddie again before turning around to leave.

When he’s almost at the door, Eddie impulsively calls after him. “Steve, wait!”

Turning around, he raises an eyebrow at Eddie.

“You– uh, you forgot something.”

“I did?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, plucking a red rose from one of their leftover Valentine’s Day bouquets and ducking under the counter to catch up with Steve by the door. “This.”

“For the bouquet?” He asks, tilting his head.

“No, for you,” Eddie says, “on the house.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you give roses to all your customers?”

“Only the pretty ones I really want to see again.”

Steve smiles, finally reaching for the rose. “Well, then,” he says, winking. “I’ll see you, Eddie.”

Eddie grins. “Bye, Steve.”

***

The bell above the door chimes and Eddie pauses his pruning to greet the new customer.

“Welcome to Munson’s Floral Treasures, what can I do for– Steve!” He cuts himself off when he recognizes him, a too big grin appearing on his face.

Steve grins right back, offering a small wave. “Hi, Eddie.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Wayne glancing at them over the shoulder of the old lady he’s currently helping. Eddie knows he’ll have to explain to his nosey uncle why he’s on a first name basis with a customer and why he’s so happy to see him, but he’ll worry about that later.

“You’re back,” Eddie says, turning his attention back to Steve. It’s been a week since the first time he was here and Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t spend his days glancing wistfully at the door every time someone came in hoping it was Steve. “Here for another ‘fuck you’ bouquet?”

Steve chuckles, following Eddie to the counter. “No, I’m here for something else.”

Eddie ducks behind the counter, resting his elbows on the surface. “Another weird request?” He asks, playfully waggling his eyebrows.

“You tell me,” Steve says, copying Eddie’s position on the opposite side of the counter, leaving their faces only inches apart. Eddie gulps, heat rising to his cheeks. “I need you to deliver a bouquet for me.”

“That’s pretty standard for a flower shop, Stevie,” Eddie says, cocking his head in amusement. “But sure, whatcha need?”

“A bouquet that says ‘do you want to go on a date with me?’”

Eddie blinks, trying to make sure he’s not imagining the little smirk tugging at Steve’s lips. “Oh, um, of course. We can do that!” He says, his voice an octave too high. “What’s– what’s the address for the delivery?”

That smirk turns into a full-on grin. “Oh, that’s easy,” Steve says, leaning even closer. Eddie hopes Wayne is too busy with the old lady to see what’s happening or he’ll never hear the end of this. “Munson’s Floral Treasures– ever heard of it?”

Eddie’s stomach flip-flops wildly. “You tryna ask my uncle on a date, Stevie?” He teases, barely able to keep the giddy smile off his face. “He might be a little too old for you.”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugs, walking his fingers on the counter until they’re brushing against Eddie’s arm. “But I think his nephew might be perfect for me.”

Eddie’s knees go weak from Steve’s words and his featherlight touch on his arm. “I think you might be right,” he says, biting his lip.

Steve’s eyes flicker down for a split second. “So, you’ll send that for me?”

“Yup. Happy to.”

“Great.” Steve grabs a pen from the counter and writes something down on the notepad where they take orders. “Here’s my number. You know, so you can let me know how the delivery went and what the answer was.”

Eddie nods, and with a wink, Steve turns around and leaves.

As soon as he walks through the door, Eddie grabs his phone and dials Steve’s number. He watches through the window as Steve stops and digs his phone from his pocket, a smile twitching at his lips as he brings it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“It’s a yes,” Eddie says eagerly.

Steve peers through the window and shoots him a lopsided grin. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So can I pick you up on Friday at 7?”

Eddie forces himself not to let a happy squeal or punch his fist in the air because Steve can see him. “Yeah, that’s– that’s good.”

“See you on Friday then,” Steve says, hanging up and waving at Eddie through the window before he disappears down the street.

As soon as he’s gone, Eddie breaks into a grin. He gets weird looks from Wayne and the customers that come in throughout the day but it hardly matters. He has a date to look forward to.

[h3rmess]

SL*T ME OUT

Written by @h3rmess ✰ | KINKTOBER (late entry)

"eat the d*** like you was ugly" ☆

After the U-20 match, oliver and the others decide to go out and have some fun. They go to a karaoke booth to let loose and forget about their loss. Oliver wants you to help him blow off some steam in a different way...

notes : this was meant to be for kinktober but I forgot to upload... I love aiku so so much!! I literally started screaming when I saw him in episode 5

WARNINGS : oliver aiku x fem!reader, oral (m receiving), facefucking, masturbation (f), picture taking, semi-public oral sex???, pet names, praise, swearing, no relationship (that's how aiku is ☹️)

"Where is he?" You whispered, holding your phone in your hand as you walked away from the arcade, into the area where the karaoke booths were.

You kept checking your phone in case a text from him magically appeared, hoping that he would come to save you from this bewilderment.

"Wow, look at that!" A low, husky voice spoke from behind you, forcing you to turn around abruptly.

Hands in the pockets of his kit and leaning against the wall, he offered you an irresistible smirk that made your heart race.

"Really went all out for me, huh?" He commented, observing the short, body-con dress you wore. In this setting, you looked like you belonged in a club.

He took a step towards you, standing up properly once more as he towered over you, your chin lifted behind comfort to meet his gaze.

"Oliver!" You exclaimed with a smile. "How was the match? I didn't get time to check the end results."

He rubbed the back of his neck with a solemn sigh, "We lost..."

Your expression displayed remorse as you pulled him into a hug. "You played amazingly, though. I was so proud to see you on the screen. You were definitely remarkable." You spoke, recalling his outstanding plays.

"Hmm, yeah... I'm still super bummed though. I thought we were gonna win." He pouted as he looked away.

"You seem pretty upset..." You spoke softly.

"I am. That's why I wanted to see you." He looked back at you slowly.

"Huh?"

"Y'know, I've been so stressed lately. I've had way too much practice and not enough time to...unwind." He tried to mask his smirk with a sombre look, but you saw through it.

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?" You questioned, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Well, you're here, all pretty and dolled up. Let's not let it go to waste." He looked at you, his eyes predatory.

"What are you suggesting we do?" You prompted, your heart rate increasing as you became more nervous. Your palms began to excrete sweat as he leaned in closer to you.

"How about we ruin that makeup of yours, huh?" He grinned, his hands suddenly groping your waist.

"And how exactly... do you plan on doing that?" You felt breathless as you huffed out a response.

"Acting dumb are we now, baby? Why don't I fuck that mouth of yours so we don't have any more stupid responses?" His straightforward suggestion left your stomach tumbling, a new pulse being formed in your womanhood.

You were lost for words as he took you by your arm and dragged you into the booth, shutting the door.

"I told the others to get here in 30 minutes. That should be enough time." He sat down, looking up at you with a stern glance.

"Whatcha waiting for? On your knees." He commanded as you complied immediately, his voice forcing you into submission.

"That's a good girl..." He smiled as he stroked your face. You nuzzled into his touch, his huge hands bringing you comfort. He brushed his thumb carefully over your lips, slightly smearing the pink, shimmery gloss on them. You sat patiently on your knees, waiting for his next move.

Looking up with lusful eyes, you let his thumb slip into your mouth. Your face heated up slightly with embarrassment as you tried your best to maintain eye contact.

He removed his thumb from your mouth and lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. He let go, his hands reaching for his waistband. He lowered his slacks slightly, allowing him to slip himself out of his confinement.

His dick hit his abdomen instantly as he hissed, clearly needy as the pre-cum dripped down his swollen tip.

His hand gripped his member carefully as he pumped his length for a while, his breath becoming heavier by the second.

Your cheek was hit with a slap from his dick as he smirked down at you, infatuated by the size difference. You both wondered how you were meant to fit all of him in your mouth.

"Open up, doll." He commanded, his tip nearing your mouth. You followed his order, immediately being met by the bitter yet intoxicating taste of his arousal.

Your jaw slackened to accommodate his size, which was proving quite difficult.

Gripping your hair gently, he pushed your head forward, your face nearing his base. Tears began to form in your eyes as you gagged and choked slightly, overwhelmed by his huge size.

He pushed himself fully into your mouth with a grunt, his inability to hold back becoming clear.

"Fuck..." He said with clenched teeth. "Taking me so well, aren't ya? Putting that... ah- pretty mouth to good use, huh?" His thrusts started to hit deeper, increasing in speed. His words and actions did nothing but add fuel to the fire, igniting a feeling in you that you couldn't resist giving into.

Saliva leaked from the corners of your mouth as you choked around him, his thrusts relentless. You noticed some of your lip gloss on his base, which somehow turned you on even more.

His grunts and moans became more frequent as his pumped into your warm mouth even harder, throwing his head back slightly.

"Fuck...'m so close, baby... Gonna be a doll and take it? Gonna swallow everything I give to you?" He questioned, maintaining eye contact the entire time. You hummed around his cock, your hand reaching into your panties to gain some relief as your clit throbbed.

Your mind became hazy as you stopped thinking, completely submitting to Oliver and your growing lust. Your pussy was leaking. You dragged some of your arousal from your empty hole to your clit, rubbing it at a pace that instantly caused you to start moaning.

Oliver chuckled and then threw his head back, your vibrations sending him closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your head became more firm, his thrusts hitting deeper than ever before.

"Mmm, baby, I'm gonna- fuckkk..." He could barely form a sentence which made you laugh when you thought back to this moment ; not that you would've done any better.

You never stopped stimulating your nerves. You felt a warmth building as your stomach felt knotted. You kept playing with yourself as he used your mouth.

"Keep touching your little pussy... just like that." He forced out, speaking to you proving difficult as he almost reached his high.

You looked up at him, your makeup smeared, your eyes teary and lidded. That was all it took. His thrusts became sloppy as he let loose, his head thrown all the way back, moans escaping him like never before.

His liquid poured into your mouth, sitting on your tongue, filling you up. He came a lot. His thrusts continued for a while as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Don't swallow yet, princess."

You blindly obliged.

"Can I take a picture? You look so pretty like this."

And for some bizarre reason, those were the words that made you cum. You nodded, holding him and his juices in your mouth as you shook, your eyes rolling back slightly. You whined and whimpered as you saw a bright flash come from Oliver's phone. Your vision was blurry, obscured by tears as you stopped your relentless torture on your pussy.

You tried to calm your breathing as Oliver spoke.

"Open your mouth."

You did as he said, watching him posting his phone to take another picture. His dick was still in your mouth. After taking the picture, he removed his half-hard dick from your opening.

"I'm gonna take a video now, okay?" You hummed in response.

He pressed record, his hand reaching down to grip your cheeks, squishing them in a way that forced your mouth open. You whimpered slightly at his sudden movement.

"Look at how pretty she is." He spoke, the camera focusing on your eye makeup that was far beyond saving.

"Holding my cum in her mouth just like I asked her to." He grinned down at you.

"Swallow it." He commanded, the camera still rolling. You closed your mouth to swallow with a gulp, reopening it to prove you had done as he asked.

"Such a good girl..." He let go of your face, grabbing his dick once more.

"Lick it clean for me, doll."

You immediately started licking, as if you were hungry for it.

His phone remained in your face, but at this point, you didn't care.

Your tongue made its way along his length, being sure to capture any left over cum on it. You stuck your tongue out, moving it up to his tip as you looked straight into the camera.

"Fuck... don't do that. You're gonna make me hard again." His dick twitched slightly.

And yet, you continued until all of his mess was cleaned up, letting go of his dick that was now almost fully hard again.

He stopped recording.

"I'm gonna get you back for this... Just you wait." He remarked.

You smiled at him as he helped you up onto your feet again.

"You'd better go home. I mean, unless you want anyone seeing you in this state. " He suggested. Typical of him.

You reached into your handbag, pulling out some make-up wipes to clean the mess he had left your face in.

Meanwhile, Oliver unlocked his phone, a notification appearing, telling him that the boys were outside.

"Shit, they're here." He panicked slightly as you finished up, turning towards him.

He placed a short kiss on your lips. "See you soon, beautiful. I'll be messaging you, so don't you dare turn off your phone, got that?"

"Okay. Bye, Oliver." You waved, leaving before his teammates could make it into the booth.

Oliver Aiku was such a dog... and yet, you couldn't help but come back for more.

[kiwriteswords]

Wilted, Yet Wonderful [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 2.3k|| AN:  I am in the midst of the craziest week of my professional life and needed to finish this because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! Tags/Warnings: mentions of wine, alcohol consumption, Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, pre-established relationship, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, first dates, flirting, pining, fluff, pure fluff honestly Summary: Everything was set up for a perfect first date: the perfect dress, the perfect man, the perfect pairing...except the perfect schedule.

The thing about Aaron Hotchner was that he didn’t do anything impulsively.

Which made the way he kept “finding reasons” to stop by your shop all the more suspicious.

First, it was Jack’s teacher’s birthday.

Then, a condolence bouquet for a neighbor.

A “just thinking of you” arrangement for Jessica.

At one point, he even ordered a “Congratulations on Your New Dog” bouquet, which you were ninety percent sure he made up.

And every time he walked in--

Stoic, devastating, tie a little loose, eyes a little soft--

You felt it.

That pull.

That inevitability.

You flirted. You teased. You played it cool.

But the truth was, you’d bought a new dress two weeks after the first “chance encounter.”

A little over the top.

A little more extravagant than necessary for a first date.

Still hanging on the back of your office door.

Waiting. 

Waiting to be worn. 

Waiting for him to finally ask.

It was a Thursday afternoon when it finally happened.

You were elbow-deep in a last-minute baby shower arrangement when the bell jingled, and you looked up, expecting another frantic client.

Instead--

Hotch.

Tie loosened. Jacket slung over his arm. Eyes darker than usual.

He crossed the floor with more purpose than usual, stopping just short of your workspace.

You arched a brow. “Forgot another fake dog birthday?”

He smiled--

Small, genuine. “No.”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Then to what do I owe the honor?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. The kind of pause that meant something. Meant something for a man like Aaron Hotchner: calculated. 

Then he said, steady and low, “I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner.”

You froze, towel halfway across the counter.

Your heart did a weird, hiccuping thing in your chest.

You managed--barely--to keep your voice even.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The catch, of course, was this:

You were a florist. 

He was a federal agent.

And life, as it turned out, had other plans.

You cleared a Friday night. Even closed early.

Your hair? Perfect. That dress? To die for.

Five minutes before you locked up, a funeral home called.

Emergency casket spray needed. Tonight.

You guessed there really was some weight to the “to die for dress” since someone really had to die before you could even wear it!

You texted him, fingers flying: I’m so sorry. I have to save a funeral. Rain check?

Hotch replied almost immediately: Of course. Go save the day.

You melted a little. Okay. Not dead yet. (No pun intended.) 

New plan: Sunday brunch.

You pulled the dress out. Smoothed it. Stared at it like it owed you money. At this point you did. And a goodnight kiss from those lips you just couldn;t keep thinking about. 

Twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet him--

Your shop’s phone rang.

Biggest wedding you’d booked all season?

Thousands and THOUSANDS of dollars hanging on this one? 

Canceled.

Needed every arrangement reworked into “congratulations on the divorce” bouquets. “Too bad you already got legally married before the big day, now you need a lawyer” arrangements.

You called Hotch, mortified.

He answered on the first ring.

“Go handle it,” he said, so gentle it made your throat burn.

Most men would have already written you off as uninterested, problematic, or too much to handle (rightfully so). 

Third time’s the charm, right?

Right? 

…right?

You rescheduled. Thursday night. You did your hair. Your makeup. Even slipped into the dress, heart hammering against the zipper.

Then your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even have to look.

This dress was bad luck, you assumed. 

Sure enough--

Hotch’s name.

A voicemail.

You pressed it to your ear.

“I’m so sorry. We caught a case out of state. Jack’s with Jess, and the jet leaves in twenty minutes. Rain check? Please? I want this. I just--"

You shut your eyes. Listened to the strain in his voice.

The honesty.

You texted back: Stay safe. I’m not going anywhere.

You weren’t. You really, really weren’t. 

You hadn’t felt butterflies like this in…in…well, ages. It had been so long, and something in your gut (which was annoyingly always right) told you that he was so worth it. 

So, the dress stayed on the hanger.

You walked around the shop that night barefoot, music low, half arranging, half daydreaming.

You thought about him--

Exhausted, fighting monsters across state lines.

And you thought about you--

Fighting your own quiet battles with petals and grief and celebration and apology.

You thought about how love--real love--wasn’t about perfect timing.

It was about showing up.

Even if you kept missing the mark.

Even if the universe threw every damn wrench it could find.

Because eventually?

You were going to meet in the middle.

It had been a day from hell.

The kind of day that made you seriously consider shutting off your neon OPEN sign and fleeing to some remote corner of Maine where no one would ever ask you for "something simple, like a dozen custom corsages" twenty minutes before their event started.

First, it was a man in khakis and a Bluetooth headset trying to mansplain carnation symbolism to you.

("Tacky," you muttered the second he left, slamming the register shut.)

Then, it was a woman with sharp nails and sharper words, complaining the "white" roses for her late husband’s memorial were "too cream-colored." (As if you could bleach the petals yourself.) 

You wanted to ask if the dead knew the difference between stark white, cream, and ivory. There was none! Not in flower-land. Maybe at the Home Depot picking out paint swatches, but not in garden roses.

Then, a six-year-old threw a full-blown war tantrum over bouquet ribbon colors, knocking over two display vases and turning the aisle into a slip-and-slide of glass and gerbera daisies.

And to top it all off?

A corporate client cancelled a $700 custom standing order after you'd already made it--

Costing you precious materials, time, and, arguably, pieces of your soul.

By mid-afternoon, your hands were cut and sticky from thorns and tape, your back ached, your head pounded, and your patience?

Nonexistent.

Gone. Out the freaking window!!

You were halfway through re-tying a sympathy bouquet (at this point, you needed a sympathy boquet) when your phone buzzed on the counter.

You sighed, ready to ignore it--

But the name flashing on the screen stopped you cold.

Aaron Hotchner. 

Your heart did a little stutter step in your chest.

You wiped your hands on your apron and answered, trying not to sound as drained as you felt.

“Hey, you,” you said, voice lighter already. Ah, there it was. The little beacon of peace he brought you. 

“Hey, yourself.” His voice was warm, low, steady. Like a hand on your back.

You leaned your hip against the counter, closing your eyes for a second. Just listening.

Rough day?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The kind where you consider setting the shop on fire and starting over,” you deadpanned.

You could hear the faint smile in his voice when he said, “Need backup?”

“Only if you have a riot shield and a bottle of wine.”

There was a pause. A shift.

Then--

“I was calling to tell you,” he said, “I can see you tonight.”

You froze.

“What?”

“I’ll be back by seven. No cases. No cancellations. Nothing standing between us this time.”

You swallowed hard, heart hammering.

“I--” you laughed a little, breathless. Looking over to yourdress hanging in your backroom, “So, I have this dress.”

“You mentioned it once.” His voice got a little quieter. A little rougher. “You said it was a little much.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks heating. “It’s covered in sequins and flowers.”

There was a low, amused exhale through the phone, “That sounds very you.”

You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear automatically. “You really want to see it?”

“I really want to see you.”

Your chest ached in the best way.

You leaned harder into the counter, as if your body needed the support against the sudden weight of happiness.

“I’ll make sure I’m there,” he said.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

You closed your eyes, the tiredness in your body sinking a little, but the excitement thrumming harder.

You talked for a few more minutes--

Nothing urgent, nothing critical. 

Just… normal. Him asking if you’d eaten. You teasing him about his inability to distinguish between peonies and garden roses. Both of you dancing around how much you just wanted to be in the same room already.

When you hung up, the shop still smelled like roses and regret.

The vases were still broken.

The sympathy card still needed signing.

But it didn’t matter as much.

Because in the back room, on a hanger above your workbench, there was a dress waiting.

Sequins and silk.

Wild and beautiful.

Just like the way you felt when you thought about seeing him tonight.

And for the first time all day--

You smiled.

You still had chaos to deal with.

You had no business wearing the dress.

By the time you dragged yourself into the back room, every part of you ached--

Your lower back, your ankles, your wrists from tying bows too tight, your pride from one too many cranky customers.

But you’d made a promise.

You slipped the dress on slowly, sequins catching the overhead light like they were mocking you. It felt heavier than you remembered--

Maybe because your limbs were made of cement today. You pulled on your heels, gritting your teeth as your poor, abused feet screamed in protest.

At the mirror by your desk, you dabbed concealer under your eyes. It barely made a dent in the dark circles hollowing your face. So you swept some glitter across your eyelids too, because screw it, maybe they’d distract from everything else.

You looked at yourself for a long second.

And then laughed, a little breathless, a little defeated.

You looked like a raccoon who’d crashed a New Year’s Eve party.

Perfect.

The bell over the shop door jingled.

You didn’t even have the energy to call out. You just grabbed your purse and stumbled toward the front.

And there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Leaning in the doorway like he had the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. His dress shirt was rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck, hair tousled like he'd run his hands through it a dozen times. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. He looked like someone had physically dragged him through the worst day imaginable.

You stopped short, blinking at each other.

Two poster children for a sleep aid commercial.

You snorted before you could help it.

He smiled, slow and genuine, like seeing you was the first good thing that had happened to him in days.

And then--

Hotch actually blinked, taking you in fully for the first time.

The dress.

The glitter.

The heels.

You shifted on your aching feet. “This was supposed to look..better.”

He shook his head, slow and certain. “You’re perfect.”

You scoffed, walking past him and locking the door behind you. “Liar.”

He grabbed your hand before you could turn back, lacing his fingers through yours with a firm squeeze.

“I mean it,” he said, voice low. And wow. Could you believe it. 

You turned to him fully, heart flipping over despite yourself.

“You look good too,” you said, grinning. “Very ‘FBI agent whose soul just left his body.’ It’s a strong aesthetic for you.”

He laughed under his breat--really laughed--and you felt his hand tighten around yours.

You tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I’m not wasting this dress on a bunch of dead hydrangeas.”

“Where are we going?” He looked at you confused, “I have reservations for us at that tiny italian place downtown?”

“Do you see us right now?” You raised an eyebrow at him, “My place. Wine. Couch. Mutual commiseration.”

“No kidnapping involved?” he teased.

You grinned over your shoulder. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

You barely made it inside your apartment before both of you were kicking your shoes off like they were instruments of torture.

You plopped onto the couch, dress flaring around you, head falling back against the cushions with a groan.

Hotch followed, loosening his tie and dropping it on your coffee table like a white flag.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you said, reaching for the bottle of wine you kept in your emergency stash, right on bar cart that was just within reach of your sofa, “but you look like shit.”

“You’re not far behind.”

You giggled, handing him the corkscrew.

He popped the bottle open with military efficiency, pouring two glasses without even sitting up fully. You clinked your glass against his and muttered:

“To almost dates.”

“To surviving another day.”

You drank. Deep.

Halfway through the first glass, you shifted closer, curling your legs up under you.

Hotch turned his body toward you, watching you over the rim of his glass, something soft and fond blooming in his eyes.

“I think,” you said, swirling your wine lazily, “this is the best first date I’ve ever had.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that while we’re both dead on our feet, covered in floral debris, drinking emergency wine?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Exactly.”

“High standards.”

God, he was so quick and smooth. Always. You were almost a little envious. 

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling him chuckle quietly against you.

“Maybe I just like the company,” you murmured.

You felt him shift, felt his hand find your knee, steady and warm, “I do too,” he said, softer now. “More than you know.”

You didn’t even make it through the second glass.

Somewhere between laughing about the angry carnation guy and ever the dramatic, Hotch pretending to die of exhaustion across your couch, you both slid lower, lower--

Until you were lying tangled up in the same blanket, your dress half crumpled, his shirt wrinkled beyond recognition.

No funny business. (not yet anyway.) 

Just warmth.

Steady breathing.

The occasional brush of fingertips.

And the unspoken truth humming louder than anything:

You’d found each other.

Even when the world made it impossible.

Even on the worst days.

You’d come to know, especially then. 

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue @midnghtprentiss @thebestqueenoftheworld @Bookaddictlatina @superlegend216

[lieslab]

A nest of our own

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: After seeing baby chicks, you're convinced Felix and you can become poultry parents.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

_ _ _

“Sweetheart, you know we can’t get them, right?” 

You waved off Felix’s words as you stared down at the large plastic bin. After hearing a friend talk about the grain store having poultry for sale, you jumped at the chance to appear with Felix. Wood shavings sat on the bottom and a heat lamp radiated warmth. Faint chirps, quacks, and cheeps filled the air. 

“I know, but look at them. Aren’t they just the cutest thing? Look at them!” Your lips pushed into a smile. “The baby chicks are so cute and fluffy, just like you!” 

On the defense, he side-eyed and he scowled at you. “I’m not fluffy. Cute? Obviously. Fluffy?” 

“Your hair is kinda fluffy.” 

“Fluffy? More stiff and on the verge of falling out. One more bleaching session and I-” 

“Look!” You tugged on his hand and pointed out one of the fluffy yellow chicks. Curious beady black eyes, small peeps, and a neck craned back to look at the two giants before him. “Isn’t he adorable? He’s looking right at us.” 

“How do you know he’s a he?” 

“Because I just do.” 

His arm wrapped around your waist. His chin went to your shoulder and he sighed. “Yeah, he is pretty cute. I wish we could pick them up, but the sign says we’re not allowed to touch them.” 

“Do you like the baby ducks or chicks more?” 

He hummed softly and glanced between the few bins. About a foot away from the first large plastic tub, a second sat up with a similar set-up. The same brand of heat lamp and wood shavings. A plastic container holding enough water to let them drink from it, but not enough for the animals to drown. Another held starter food to nurture their bodies. 

“They’re both pretty cute. I like the little webbed feet the ducks have. I bet they’re going to grow up and be great swimmers.” 

“I don’t know about the ducks, but I think these are egg-laying chickens. They’ll grow up and after a while, they’ll be able to lay eggs. I like the egg-laying chickens. I’d rather have these than have the chickens that are meant to be butchered.” 

“There’s a difference between chickens?” 

You shifted, so you could look at him. “You didn’t know that?” 

“Chicken is chicken,” he shrugged. “I get eggs and meat from the grocery store. I’ve never really questioned if there was a difference between the two. I probably should have known, but it’s never been that deep for me. I eat to nurture myself and try not to think about the chickens. If I think about it too much, I’ll cry.” 

You reached up and gently patted his cheek. “You’re cute. Almost as cute as these babies.” 

“I’m losing to baby chicks and ducks? You don’t even know their names.” 

“I know they’re cute.” 

He gestured to the second bin. “Is that duck eating his…” His face scrunched and he trailed off. “Ew.” 

Your own grimace followed. “Yeah, I forgot they eat their own excrement sometimes.” 

“Ew!” 

“They’re just babies!” You defended them. “There’s not much for them to do, so how are they supposed to know?” 

“That’s so gross!” 

“You ate an entire banana with the peel on!” 

“It wasn’t my own bowel movement!” 

“Might as well have been.” 

As the curious baby chick watched your bickering, it’s head tipped to the side. Not understanding your words, but understanding enough to know that something between the two of you was wrong. That’s why it spun around and hurried back beneath the heat lamp. Pillowing itself between brothers and sisters, it hunkered down, eager to warm itself back up. 

~ ~ ~ 

A week later, you sat with your hands on your hips on the living room couch. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it’s done. There’s no going back. The two of us are going to be parents to baby-” 

Across the way, you were cut off with a loud sharp peep. You shoved yourself from the couch and hurried over to the plastic tub. Down below, eight baby chicks fought over a spot for warmth beneath the heat lamp. The way you adjusted it, there wasn’t enough room for all eight. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hold on, let me fix this.” You reached over and adjusted the lamp, leaning it back to cover more square area. 

One ball of fluff leaned over with a beak and pecked another sibling in the head. You gasped, reached down, and gently cupped them to bring them to your chest. Frantic peeps instantly filled the air. The fear of falling filled the bird, just as an infant would fear. 

“Hey, that’s not nice. I know you’re upset, but I’m working on it.” You frowned, hoping the chicken would understand. “Just because you’re impatient and angry, it doesn’t mean that you can fight your sibling. Please, calm down.” 

As you continued to lecture the small bird, the front door swung open. Felix kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and glanced up. A smile filled his face and then it fell. The puffy yellow ball in your hands poked out between the slips of your fingers. 

“Baby?” 

You jerked to the side with wide eyes. About the same time, the baby chick in your hands chirped loudly. You shushed the bird softly, reached down, and gently placed it in the front pocket of your overalls. “Let me talk to your father first.” 

“What are you…” He padded closer, worrying about the plastic tub behind you. “Did you purchase-” 

“Okay, listen. I know you said no, but I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’ve spent the past three days researching and making sure I know how to properly take care of them. I think I’ve become an expert on chicken enrichment and nurturing.” 

About that time, the peep in your pocket pecked at the faded denim. Felix glanced down, but he couldn’t find the energy to be mad at you. Not when something so small and delicate sat in your pocket. He moved closer, grabbed your front chest pocket, and peeked over the edge. 

“Honey, why did you put him in there?” 

“Because he needed a time out for pecking his brother. Back to my point, I know what I’m doing. Come on, Felix, you can’t say no to them.” You reached down and pulled up the baby chick. “Just like I said the other day, they’re so cute. There’s eight of them, just like you and your members!” 

“Does that make this one Seungmin Junior?” He reached out, slowly brushing a finger over the top of the baby’s head. “Didn’t you say these were egg-laying chickens? Wouldn’t that make these chickens hens? Girl chickens?” 

“It turns out they have roosters and hens. I just got a boxful and called it a day. If we do it right, we can fertilize the eggs and then we can be grandparents.” 

“Oh, dear.” 

 “You don’t want to be grandparents with me?” You frowned, meeting his eyes. 

“No, I think it’s a nice idea in theory, but baby, we don’t have a coop. We have a backyard, but there’s no fence for them to roam. Don’t we have to worry about predators, too?” 

“You worry too much. I have it all planned out. Just wait until you see what I ordered off a website. It’s all the pieces to a coop, but it comes with instructions, and I can put it together. I was thinking when they start laying eggs, we can get a cute basket to collect them in.” 

“You’re really not giving me a choice here, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

He reached out and slowly cupped the chick from your hand. “He is a pretty cute guy. What are we seriously going to name them? How are we doing to tell the difference between them all? They look the same.” 

“I’m still figuring it out, but in the meantime, we’re fresh parents to a batch of kids.” 

He stepped forward, peeking in on the rest of the flock. He went from chick-to-chick, taking notice of how many huddled beneath the red radiance of the heat lamp. “You said there’s eight?” 

“Yes! They said you had to buy eight at once, so I got all eight. I can’t wait until they grow up!” You grinned, rocking back and forth on your feet. “I think they’ll make great family members. Plus, we’ll have fresh eggs.” 

“Or a nice Sunday dinner.” 

Your head whipped back. “You’re going to eat our kids?” 

He shrugged and reached back down to pet the chicken back in his hands. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.” 

“You’re a horrible father.” 

The bird leaned forward, pecking the skin of Felix’s hand. “Ow!” He hissed, leaned down, and let the chick rush beneath the heat lamp. “You little-” 

“That’s what you get for not being very nice to our kid.” 

“I’ll turn him into a nugget.” 

“Behave or I’ll report you to Changbin for child abuse and let him straighten you out.” 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s he going to do?” 

“Headlock of doom.” 

“Sounds more like a reward than a punishment.” 

“While I bleach your hair again.” 

He gasped, spinning back around to face you. “You wouldn’t!” 

“Be nice to our kids.” 

“Fine.” 

You leaned forward, cupping his face in the process. “I know you didn’t think we could, but I’ve got it all under control.” 

“I’m a little worried, but I trust you. They’ll make a good addition to our dynamic duo. Maybe I’ll get Hyunjin to help me make little signs to decorate their coop.” 

“Like?” 

“Cluck around and find out.” He grinned, eyes lighting up in the process. “You can never go wrong with chicken puns.” 

You leaned closer, planting a quick kiss to a freckled-stamped cheek. “I’ll allow it since we’re working on this together. Since you’re home, let’s go.” You slipped a hand through his. “I got a bunch of baby-name books from the library, so we have to pick out names.” 

He laughed, unable to stop the utter admiration from pouring out of his body. “You’re cute. I love you so much, my little chicken tender.” 

You slowly turned your head, casting judgement upon him. He grinned again, showing off two rows of pearly white teeth. “What? Too early for another chicken pun?” 

“That’s it, you’re spending the night in the coop.” 

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[fuctacles]

Changes

@genderthings ST Women's Day: bouquet T | 805 | Pre-Steddie | Transfem Eddie, coming out, canon adjacent, phone calls | I am not sponsored by Lego but they can call me wink wink | Ao3

"Hey, you're good at making gifts, right?"

"Who is this?"

For a second, Steve blanks, wondering if he's dialed the right number. But the voice in his ear sounds right. 

"Steve? Steve Harrington?"

"Dude, I haven't heard from you in forever."

"Come on, it's been a couple of months at best," Steve protests, but as he starts doing calculations in his head, it doesn't sound as short anymore. 

"Uh-huh, try half a year."

"Shit. Sorry, Eddie. Moving had been... a lot. Guess I've lost track of time. How's life?"

"A lot of work. We have a few labels interested in working with us, but we have to make a few more demos to get signed for an album. But it's... It's good, it feels good."

Steve smiles at the receiver, happy that another one of his friends is following his dreams. 

"That's great! I'm happy for you guys. We should meet up when you're less busy."

"Yeah, totally," Eddie agrees quickly. "I have something to tell you, actually."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"I, uh... So much has changed, man. Different city, different life... It's not Hawkins anymore, you know"

"Tell me about it," Steve chuckles. 

"And I'm changing too. And I'm worried it might be too much."

Steve frowns. Change was always scary, and often meant someone would be left behind, usually him. But he soldiers on with a joke. 

"What, you got even more tattoos? Human painting style?"

"You bet your ass I did," Eddie laughs. 

"Well, Hawkins might hate it, but as long as you're happy, your friends will have your back. We didn't save the world for nothing, right?" 

"Right," he parrots. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

"Ah! Women's Day is coming up and I'm completely blank on what to give Robin."

"Dude." There's a shuffle in the other side, like Eddie changed his position to be more comfortable. "You're her weird cosmic bestie, shouldn't you know her best? How could I possibly be of service?"

"Well," Steve draws out the word, slumping against the wall. "She buys all the books she wants, she's against expensive clothes, we're stocked on candy for a year, and we have limited space. But she said she'd like something to decorate her room, make it more homey."

"Uh, a plant?" Eddie suggests. 

"Eddie. Would I be calling you if the answer was as simple as a plant."

"I'm guessing Buckley is a serial plant killer then."

"She murdered my basil plant and I haven't forgiven her yet."

Eddie snorts before making a loud hum.

"Alright then, well. A painting, a poster?"

"She already has so many posters," Steve groans. "I'm not sure there's even space left on the wall, not after she stole that huge Madonna one."

"I see the big city is doing her good, huh?"

"I need ideas."

"I don't know, man. You're close enough, get her a vibrator or something."

"Already got her one for Christmas."

It's Eddie's turn to groan.

"Just give her fake flowers, Jesu— wait. Does she like puzzles?"

"Uh, yeah? But we have nowhere to display them, so—"

"Did you know Lego has flower sets?"

"It was a great idea, thank you so much! I forgot how much fun it is."

Eddie laughs on the other end of the line. 

"I'm glad to be of help. What did you get?"

"A bonsai tree. It looks great."

"Good to know you're living my dream," he chuckles. 

"What do you mean?" Steve asks curiously, before flopping down on his bed for the conversation. 

"I fucking love Lego, but this shit is so expensive. And, don't tell anyone," Eddie lowers his voice. "But I do like flowers, and can't keep them alive neither."

"I'll keep that in mind," Steve chuckles. "Sooo, when will you be free to meet up?"

"When you said about changes, I didn't think you mean...."

"Tits?" Eddie finishes for him, her shoulders angling in to hide. "If you can even call them that."

"No, don't hide! They're—"

A smirk grows on Eddie's face. She might be wearing make up and style her hair differently, but her dimples are all the same.

"Yeah? How are my tits, Harrington?" she teases.

"Shut up," he grumbles. "You look good, okay? And you'll keep changing, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm aiming for a rack..." she forms her hands into cups in front of her chest. "...this big."

"Who'll pay for the chiropractor?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, my rock star salary? Duh," she rolls her eyes. 

"Mom, I am a rich man?" 

"Exactly," Eddie grins at him.

On their way back, Steve pulls her into a florist's and buys a single rose. 

"For the Women's Day I've missed," he explains, handing it over with a wink.

Next year, Eddie gets two bouquets: live red roses and a sunflower Lego set.

tags: @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible

[wtfsteveharrington]

love love love your writing, could you do something with luca? maybe reader gets hurt in the kitchen and he has to help her

a/n: thank you so much :’) i went a different kitchen than you meant probably but i hope u like <33

warning!! contains non-graphic mentions of accidental cuts, blood, and a physical injury.

The apartment is peaceful. Candles lit, soft music playing from a playlist you both curate, and it was pretty enough outside to leave the windows cracked open for a breeze.

You’re turning around with a stack of t-shirt’s in your arms, only half paying attention when you feel yourself bump into something that promptly shatters to the ground and disrupts the peaceful environment.

“Shit!” You both echo at the same time from being startled.

Luca’s wrapping a towel around his hand, leaving everything in the kitchen behind as he hunts you down. “Darling? What happened? Are you alright?” He took just enough time to realize that the knife had gotten him when he jumped, acknowledged he was alright, and quickly went to check on you. You’d always come on the top of his priority list.

You’re standing in a pile of glass, a deep set frown on your lips as you look around at mess made by a broken vase. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I was trying to put away our laundry and forgot I moved the vase to the edge of the dresser earlier when we were cleaning. Just caught the corner and it fell.”

Looking up at him with a little pout, “I’m sor-“

You’ve honed in on his towel wrapped hand, the hint of blood soaking through the thin material.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely fucked my hand.” He gives you some sort of ‘What can you do’ look while shrugging his shoulders. Luca has had his fair share of kitchen incidents and was much more accustom to injuries. It was deep enough to need stitches, just needed to be rinsed and bandaged.

You, however? Very much not used to seeing your boyfriend like this.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to grab his wrist, taking a peek under the towel and wincing. “Luca!” He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re dragging him back into the kitchen to get him taken care of.

You’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink, trying to fight the urge to panic at the sight of him injured due to a mistake you made. He can see the way your face is all twisted up with concern and he hates it.

“M’alright… Done much worse to myself before. Won’t even leave a scar.” A scar? You frown more as you make sure the cut is clean and step back to go fish out the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“Stay put, please.”

Luca, a man, stands there as he’s told but does admire the sway of your ass as you barrel away. He then gets to admire the swell of your cleavage under your top and - “Shit!” He hissed out as you’re grabbing his hand again to apply a bit of ointment.

“Shoulda paid less attention to my boobs and you would have seen this coming.” You tease while trying so hard to keep the mood as light as you can muster. There was still a course of guilt running through your veins as you continue patching him up.

“I truly am fine, you know? Comes with the job territory. Won’t be the last time I get cut.” He leans in to press a tender kiss to your head and you gravitate towards the touch. You know it’s not a life or death situation but between being embarrassed over both breaking the vase and indirectly injuring Luca you were a little solemn to say the least.

“I know, just hate I caused this.” The bandaid is smoothed over his skin and you give it another once over before bringing it to your lips, kissing over the bandaid. Luca allows you to continue fretting over the injury for a moment until he’s moving his hand to cup your jaw and make look up at him.

“It was an accident, no?” You both nod. “Exactly… I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. Don’t want you beating yourself up over this.”

You take a deep breath and allow his words to sink in for a moment before nodding once again. Eyes flickering up to his before you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “M’sorry you got hurt…” Another kiss. “Was kinda hot how well you handled it though.”

Luca laughs against your mouth, a wide grin on his features as he feels your anxiety finally start to settle. He steals one more kiss before stepping back to acknowledge the state of the kitchen, giving your waist a squeeze before he goes.

He glances over the cutting board that was the culprit of injury and the food that started to burn while he was tended to. Shrugging his shoulders, turning to smirk at you with pure love and devotion in his eyes.

“Fuck it, let’s go have a date night out instead.”

A hand claps against the flesh of your ass as he passes you to go get changed.

[erwinsvow]

i’m definitely projecting BUT i genuinely feel like shy!reader would have wavy hair and be so insecure about it (even tho it’s so pretty) so it’s always straightened but i just know if rafe saw it he’d fall even deeper in love with the girl!

oh 100%. lets project together angel why not. if you dont have wavy hair pls look away im sorry. but i do have wavy hair that i straighten all the time so ! you sent this to the right bitch

your hair, though you've been told so many times was pretty either way, is usually straightened several times a week, if not daily. it's easy to fall into the trap of preferring it sleek and shiny than the waves that were pretty for the first day, frizzy the next, and somehow constantly clashing with the outfit you selected for the day.

you thought straight hair was easier, looked better, went with everything. even if it wasn't true, you had bought into it for long enough, your blowdryer and flat iron your two best friends.

the first time rafe met you, your hair had been straight. it was that way on your first date, as well as your second and third, as well as every sleepover at tannyhill or early morning drive to watch the sunrise at the beach. he'd never seen your hair any other way, not realizing there was, in fact, another way for it to be seen, until today.

you and rafe had spent the first hour of the morning rolling around in his bed at tannyhill, working up a sweat, which then was washed off in the shower together. rafe gets out first, listening to his phone ring repeatedly in the distance. you finish up, washing your hair and turning the water to the hottest setting now that rafe wasn't there to complain.

when you walk back to rafe's room, he's on the bed, still on the phone. you try to dry yourself off and get dressed without giving him too much of a show, settling for one of rafe's old frat shirts and using another shirt of his to start drying your hair. he looks at confused, but you don't say anything, knowing he's still on the phone. you need at least a minute to explain cotton t-shirts and scrunching to him.

rafe finally hangs up the call with barry while you rummage through your overnight bag, realizing your flat iron and blow dryer were left behind on your bathroom counter, a result of finishing up your hair for your date yesterday.

"is sarah home?" you ask, looking up at rafe.

"don't think so. and didn't i give you a towel? why's my shirt on your head right now?"

"i forgot my hair stuff at home."

"oh," he says, walking back to his dresser and returning with something in his hand. "here." he hands you a hairbrush.

"what am i supposed to do with this?"

"you said you needed hair stuff. uh, you're welcome."

"i have a brush, rafe. i meant my dryer and my iron. do you think sarah would be mad if i used hers? is that weird, though?"

he didn't think it was that serious, but you look more upset by the second.

"what'd you need that shit for? we're not going anywhere until lunch. it'll dry by then." you stand up, taking the hair out of his shirt and trying to salvage whatever waves remained.

"i wanted to wear it straight for the club, though. my outfit, it looks better with straight hair-"

"huh?"

"and i didn't even detangle or use that conditioner, it's all at home. ugh." you keep scrunching, going to the mirror and taking a look. rafe follows behind you, eyebrows knitted in confusion while he takes a piece of curly hair between his fingers. it's pretty, the way it falls around your face and certain pieces are curlier than others. you look pretty like this, though he's sure you look pretty any which way.

"how come i didn't know your hair's like this?"

"um, i like it flat. do i have to go to the club like this?"

"i like it. s'pretty. c'mon, leave it."

you turn to face your boyfriend. like everyone else, he's just saying it to be nice.

"will you take me home to grab my stuff? please?"

"if you really want it, kid, but i think you should leave it," rafe says, bringing his hand up to your hair, stroking the pieces by your face, twirling a wave around his finger. "c'mon, for me?"

you hesitate, looking up at your boyfriend.

"but i wanna look nice for the club."

"the fuck are you talkin' about? you always look nice."

"but it's not as nice. it's messy. i like it-" rafe interrupts you, bringing his hand to your jaw the way he always does, squeezing tight but not too tight.

"stop. it looks nice. stop overthinkin' it. got it?" you nod. "s'nice. you should wear it like this more often."

"sure. whatever you say."

"that's right."

[ameliathornromance]

9:24am:

“Okay, okay, I have to go! I’ll be late for the train!” You push your Orc away, laughing as he tries to press another, final kiss onto your lips.

Chuckling, he locks the door behind the two of you and the pair of you set off down your flats hall and to the lift. “Make sure you have a good day today, yeah?” He tells you as the lift dings and opens.

“You too, tell me whether or not you managed to tell your friends about the house warming tonight.” You smile. Today was the day, from 3 o’clock onwards, it was go time. You felt guilty… A little. But you knew that the guilt would be worth it if it meant that you got to surprise your Boyfriend with the best Anniversary party he’d never forget.

He’d caught you mid planning – you were sat on your phone looking at cake recipes and he just had to look over your shoulder and ruin the fun. Lucky you were able to cover by saying it was a ‘house-warming party.’

“But, we moved in like, two weeks ago?” He’d said, smile fading on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to have them the day you move in?”

“That’s just too chaotic!” You said, laughing a little too hard. “Who has one of those on moving in day? Talk about overwhelming, am I right?” Your heart squeezed when he turned away, eyebrows furrowed in clear disappointment.

You knew he thought you’d forget. Everything was so… much at the moment. Coupled with moving in a few weeks ago, you had plausible deniability to be forgetful.

No, you reminded yourself as the lift descended to the ground floor. No time for guilt, you had to get this show on the road.

“Of course I will, you’ve been planning it for weeks, of course I’ll tell everyone.” Your Orc’s smile faltered slightly. Did you really forget such an important date as your anniversary? Your Orc thought.

Sure, he might have jumped the gun a bit, bought you both a flat to live in for an early present, but who doesn’t get a little overexcited about two years with the love of their life?

There wasn’t even a ‘happy anniversary’ when you both woke up. Your Orc hadn’t said anything either – he’d already said it a hundred times over when he was showing you the flat he bought… you saying it back once on the day wasn’t that much to ask for, was it?

“You okay?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

His smile returned, more vacant this time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

And with that, the two of you set off to work.

10:56am:

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you dial your partner.

“Hello?”

“Sadie’s annoying me again, she can never keep her mouth shut about her son.” Locking the cubicle door, sitting on a cubicle toilet with the lid down, you fume. “She’s such a boy mum.”

“You know it’s polite to say hello back, right?” your Orc replied, a smirk in his voice. “Don’t tell me she’s coming to the party tonight.” He’d heard all about your vendetta against Sadie, the boy-mother who couldn’t keep her spawn out of her conversation for two minutes. If Sadie was as bad as she sounded, your boyfriend didn’t want to meet her.

“God no.” You said. The bathroom door opened and closed, you lowered your voice, “if I have to hear about ‘precious Braydon is the top of his class again!’ in my own home I might throttle her. Being a parent is fine, but if you’re going to make it your whole personality, don’t even have kids!”

Your Orc sighed from the other end of the phone: “babe, if you’re just calling me to complain about Sadie-”

“No, that wasn’t the only thing!” You said, quickly. “Um… I was hoping that you could stop and get some… fish for tonight.” You lied. There were things that still needed to be done at home, you couldn’t have your Orc coming home too early. Your friends were already at your place, helping you out by decorating. You just needed to cook and do some final touches.

“Fish?” He asked, doubtfully.

“Mhm.” You affirmed. The bathroom sink ran, shut off before the entrance swung open and closed again. “Please? I forgot that June is pescatarian and now I’m going to look like a total bitch for not thinking of her.” While it was true that June was pescatarian, you had to keep your Orc out of the flat. That, and there was already some freshly caught Place at the flat, skilfully hidden away in the freezer.

Everything had to be perfect, including making your friend feel more comfortable.

Your heart twinges as your Orc Boyfriend sighs down the phone. “Okay, I’ll stop by the Fish Monger's on my way home.”

You wanted to tell him that you’re sorry, sorry that he has to go out and spend his money to help you make this surprise… but there are necessary evils in this world.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

3:15pm:

“We’re in trouble,” was the first thing you heard on the phone. Your best friend had called you, “there weren’t enough streamers, so we improvised.”

“What did you do?” Stomach dropping, you held your breath. It can’t be that bad, right? You reassured yourself, it’s not like your best friend is crazy, they’ve got-

“… You remember June’s Hen night?”

Oh no.

“We to cut up her old sash!” Your best friend exclaims, “it’s shiny and glittery, and she said it was fine!”

You face palm. Leaving work early to get home for this surprise was crucial, you didn’t have time for last minute stops. Your Orc Boyfriend had bought the pair of you a flat for Gods sake, you needed to give him something amazing back too. And it can’t be amazing if there’s the cut up words: ‘Bride to Be’ decorating the room.

He might get the wrong idea if he looks too closely at them. “Look, I’ll head to that party shop on the way back home so we can clean this up.” Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you bid your goodbye and got on the train.

5:33pm:

Running a sleeve along your forehead, pulling out the last cake from the oven and setting it on the side, the door bell rang.

Dread shot through you. Before you could even remove your oven gloves, June was already rushing to the door.

Thank God for the Fish distraction, you thought as a few of your Orc’s friends stepped through the door: An Elf – Leo, your Orc’s college friend, a Goblin – Blik, childhood friend of your Orcs, and Fox-hybrid – Val, your Orc’s best friend from work. “Can you get started on the icing and prepare the wine?” You ask them.

Val let’s out a snicker at your haggard appearance but glides over. “Sure sweetie, what can I do to get started?”

After explaining to Val what you needed help with, you turned to Leo. “You brought the flute, right?”

The Elf gave a nod, his long hair swaying. “Are you alright, dear?” asked Blik, jumping up onto the breakfast table stool opposite you. He leans against the counter, tilting his head. “Do you want me to do something? You look like a mess.”

“Really?!” Your voice cracks at the obvious statement. Everything had to be perfect, of course you were a mess.

Leo was by your side and taking away the oven mitts from you, “leave this to me and Val, go freshen up. Wouldn’t want him to worry about you during the party you prepared.”

“But-” you start, but Leo silences you with a smile at you. “You can relax a little now, we’re all here to help.”

And you did. Leo was always good with words, partly why he and your Boyfriend had stayed close for so long – because he was always good at calming down situations.

Leaving the pair to finish the work, you evacuate to your bedroom.

6:30pm:

Your Orc didn’t believe what you said on the phone. Not one bit. You, who was super conscious about the people around you? Forget that someone had a dietary preference? No. That wasn’t like you.

But never the less, he walked into the Fish Monger’s and grabbed salmon, halibut, trout and cod. A variety of things – he wasn’t sure what June would like – and walking out of the shop, he checks his phone. No calls, no texts.

He sighs. There’s something going on here.

And then it clicked. Smiling, he tosses the bag of fish in the back of his car and clambers inside.

Your Orc refuses to believe that you would be so forgetful.

You had a surprise, didn’t you?

6:59pm:

Adjusting the pot of flowers on the coffee table, you bit your lip. “(Y/N). Stop.” Your best friend takes your hands in theirs. “It’s okay, everything will be perfect.”

You take one last look at the flower pot and sigh. Eyes sweeping the room one last time, make sure that the balloons are all inflated, streamers and bunting are where they’re supposed to be and that the food is ready to go.

The front door jangles, you dart for the lights, your friends duck behind the sofa and your Orc’s companions hide behind the breakfast bar.

Darkness shrouds the in-house occupants as you stand, back flush against the wall, praying that your Boyfriend doesn’t spot you when you’re so close to the front door.

The hallway light spills in and casts his large shadow further into the front room.

He doesn’t move for a moment, watching the darkness carefully. Finally, you switch the light.

As soon as the lights come on, everyone jumps up. “Surprise!”

Your Orc’s eyes widen, the edges of his lips curling upwards. He knew it. This wasn’t

“Happy Anniversary!” You approach him and take him by the arm. You smile up at him, “come in,”

“Wait, what is this?” Your Orc Boyfriend plays dumb, “I thought this was a house-warming party.”

“Well, it kind of is.” You rub the back of your head, “but… I felt bad. You bought this whole flat for us and… There’s nothing equal that I could give back to you. So, I thought that, since this was an anniversary present, I’d set up a party with a few of our friends.” You beam.

Your Orc’s eyes scoop around the room, friends smiling at him and beaming. “They helped me get some of this stuff ready of course, my friends did the decorations and yours helped me with baking… Leo said he’s also going to play flute for us.”

The Elf nods, holding up the silvery instrument.

As everyone went to raid the numerous amount of dishes you had prepared, your Boyfriend looks at you as if you were some dreamy mirage.

“What’s that for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as guests chatter to each other.

Your Orc shakes his head. “Nothing.”

10:21pm:

“I have a confession.” Your Orc says.

The flat had emptied of it’s guests, only leaving you two behind. Sitting on the sofa, wine glasses in hand and surrounded by the chaos that party goers leave behind. Party popper streamers littering the ground and coffee table, over populated with plates and empty wine glasses.

“What?” you ask, smiling.

“I kind of figured out that you were planning a surprise.”

Your smile falters, “did someone tell you? It was Val wasn’t it? That slippery-”

“No, no.” Your Orc tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “I realised while I was on the way back from the Fisherman's.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips. “Was it that obvious?”

“It’s not like you to forget something so important.” He shrugs. “Even if it was last minute, you remembered that June was pescatarian. That’s what gave it away.”

You let on a weak grin.

“And that’s why I wasn’t all that surprised when I came in.” He took another swig from his wine glass.

“I’ll make sure to do better next time.” You say, looking at the mess in front of you. All that effort to keep the party a secret and it still flunked.

“Don’t be like that,” your Orc turned you to face him, thumb against your chin. “There was nothing to be better at, I loved the surprise… Even if it wasn’t really one.” And with a kiss on your forehead, the pair of you settled into the sofa, falling asleep in each others arms.

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[schluttforschlatt]

O Christmas Tree

No warnings, just a lil fluff based on a post @marsandwich made

I’m usually the worlds biggest grinch but with the Christmas album coming out in like a week I figured why not get a lil festive :)

WC: 1.5k

Schlatt x Reader (no explicit gender)

The smell of cranberry and cinnamon wafted through the apartment, accompanied by the gentle hum of the central air system running. You hadn’t meant to take an afternoon nap, but the long morning you had with your boyfriend (Christmas tree shopping, to be exact) tuckered you out. Yawning, you trotted down the stairs and into the living room, where a scene straight out of a Hallmark film was playing out. Two cats, one orange and one black, sat on the coffee table, overseeing a unique holiday ritual (stringing lights on said tree) being performed by their adopter (your lovely, handsome boyfriend). Their tails danced around each other until the little orange menace took notice of your sudden presence and chirped up at you. Your boyfriend turned around almost instantly, moving to close the distance between the two of you.

“Hey, Doll. Feelin’ better?” He asked, ruffling your hair as your arms circled around his middle. You nodded your head into his chest.

“Didn’t mean t’ fall asleep,” you mumbled at him, though your voice was muffled by the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He mimicked your actions, bringing his own arms to wrap around your waist. “Guess I waited too long to eat and felt off.” He hummed in agreement, the sensation vibrating in his chest.

“Well, you made it down here just in time. Made some mulled cider like my mom used to make for us growing up. It’s just about done,” you took a deep breath in, reveling in the sweet scent of citrus and spice. “Figured we could have some while we decorate the tree.” He pulled back a bit to smile down at you, a gesture that you returned up at the taller man.

“Sounds great, Jay. I love you.” He releases his arms and opts to grab one of your hands instead, leading you into the kitchen. It wasn’t often that he played around in the kitchen, too many burnt pizzas tainting the art of cooking for him. But it was the holiday season, and he loved to go all out. Though this would only be your second Christmas together, he insisted that mulled cider was a tradition for him. Oh, how you looked forward to many many more with him. He pulled your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them before letting your arm drop.

“I love you, too. You wanna grab some mugs for us?” You nodded in response, taking a step over to the cupboard that housed glassware. You felt a firm smack land on your left ass cheek, spinning around to point an accusing finger at your boyfriend. Before you could open your mouth to jokingly threaten Jay, his arms went up in defense and his face became a tinted light pink.

“Sorry, Toots,” a playful grin tugging at his lips. “There was a bug or somethin’.” You shook your head, giggling as you returned to the cupboard. Opening the wooden doors up, you grabbed down a Minecraft mug for yourself, and decided your boyfriend would get a silly Twilight one. The two of you had accidentally begun a fun little mug collection after a trip to an antique store in your hometown. It started with a novelty mug that said “Left Handed Mug” in a blocky font, and on the “backside” a small hole so that if the user was to drink from the cup with their right hand, it would just spill. Its purpose was served one morning when you went to take a sip of Schlatt’s unattended hot tea, pouring the drink down your chest. You couldn’t even be mad about that incident, there was a large bold warning right on the ceramic.

Closing the cupboard up, you shifted back towards your boyfriend, setting both mugs down adjacent to him. He glanced over and let out a soft chuckle at your selection.

“I forgot we had ‘Bella, Where the Hell have you been, Loca?’ still.” You scoffed.

“What do you mean, ‘still’? It was a gift from Ted! I could never part with it!” You waved your hands in an exasperated manner. Jay smiled at you once again and filled the mugs with the sweet concoction, using a ladle to scoop fruit and cinnamon into each glass.

The two of you stood in the kitchen discussing dinner plans for the coming evening. If it was two o’clock currently, then you’d probably be done with the tree around five-ish, be able to order a pizza at six, which gave you plenty of time to clean up before settling in on the couch for the night to watch Die Hard (it absolutely is a Christmas movie, thank you very much). After agreeing what toppings to get on said pizza, you both made haste for the living room. Setting the mugs down on the coffee table and shooing the cats out of the room, you began to delicately unpack an absurd amount of baubles. You and Schlatt were very organized people, but you thought it was a tad unnecessary for him to store Every. Single. Ornament. In its original box. It didn’t matter if the box was 20 years old and falling apart, there was simply just no other way Schlatt could store them. He could be a strange critter sometimes.

“Want me to put a record on, Love?” You called to your boyfriend. His answer: A wide, crinkly eyed, toothy smile spread across his face. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” He responded.

You waltzed over to the entertainment center and searched for your favorite Christmas albums amongst your conjoined record collection. Jay’s, of course, being “A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra”, and yours, “Elvis’ Christmas Album”. Long before your relationship, you’d had a conversation about Christmas music and the love/hate relationship you both shared for it. Only acceptable between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve. Only classics, the ones that brought nostalgia and memories of baking cookies with your grandmothers.

Satisfied, you removed the first record from its sleeve, placing the vinyl onto the turntable, and maneuvered the needle to the edge of it. After a pressing the “on” button, the wax came to life, blessing the room with Elvis’ “Santa Clause is Back in Town”. You returned to your spot next to Schlatt, and eagerly began stringing colorful ornaments all around the tree.

You didn’t know exactly how long the two of you had spent decorating the tree, but you did know that your Elvis record had played once through in entirety, and Jay’s Sinatra record was halfway through the second round of side a.

After giving the tree a final once over, Schlatt leaned down to pull you into his chest, resting his chin atop your head. You reached up, hands rubbing soothing circles on his biceps.

“She looks perfect, Doll,” he nearly whispers, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “But, we’re missing the pièce de rèsistance.” You stare forward, scanning the branches high and low. Jay takes notice of this, removing an arm from your body to point up. The star.

“I didn’t see it in the storage boxes, that completely slipped my mind,” you admitted, tapping Schlatts arm to let you go. You crouch down, sifting through tissue paper and crumbling cardboard scattered around the floor by the tree, but do not see any signs of a tree topper. “It should’ve been in one of these boxes, no?”

“I didn’t see the star either, but I do see an angel right in front of me.” You look up to your boyfriend, rolling your eyes at his corny joke, but unable to stop the bashful smile creeping up your cheeks. He reciprocates the gesture.

“In all seriousness though, I haven’t seen it.” You run a hand through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp. “Are you sure it’s not in with the extra string lights?”

“I’ll go check the garage. You wanna start cleaning up?” Jay asks. You nod yes, and he swiftly walks out the front door, not bothering to engage any of the locks.

Clean up wasn’t too bad. It’s fairly easy to shove things back into the storage bins before dragging them towards the kitchen. It had been maybe all but ten minutes before your boyfriend re-emerges through the front door, a small box in hand. He removes the star from it, tossing the package on the coffee table before handing it to you. You stare at him dumbfounded, your eyebrows raising.

“Jay, I’m too short for this. I can’t reach the top.” He beams at you. What kind of plan does he-

“C’mon, short stack. Your own personal tall guy is ready to assist.” He jokes, kneeling down and patting his shoulders. You let out a soft laugh.

“Alright, big guy, just don’t drop me.” You entertain him, mounting his shoulders and holding on for dear life. He stands up slowly, as to not freak you out, and saunters closer to the tree. His grip on your thighs is comforting as you stretch your arms out, gingerly placing the missing piece of the puzzle in its rightful place. He takes a step back before kneeling down to let you dismount. Before you can plant both feet back on the floor, Schlatt’s arms engulf you once more, this time hoisting you up into a bridal carry, forcing a small squeak from you.

Pressing his forehead to your own and nuzzling your noses together, he takes a deep breath in, followed by a long exhale. You plant a kiss on his cheek, and in return receive a tender kiss on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Jay.”

Idk I’m not super happy with this, but I’m craving Christmas content so 🤷🏻‍♀️ chapter 2 of the bartender fic is coming out sometime within the week tho!!!

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco I wanna try putting in a request

Marshall x fem reader

Marshall and reader have a child there 4 or 5 (boy or girl idc ) and marshal and reader are indulging in late night activities (18+) and there child wakes up screaming bc they heard y/n screaming . So they come running knocking on the door to see if she’s ok .

You don’t have to do this kinda a bad idea

Hey ! Thanks for your request ! I love your idea ❤️. I had a lot of fun writing it, I hope you enjoy reading !

The Monster

Eminem x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : Lily gets scared when she hears Reader screaming during sex. Her and Em need to come up with some explanation.

Tags : Smut - Fluff - Comfort

Warning : SMUT (P in V, use of toys, anal, oral, biting, squirting…).

Author’s Note : I decided to use the same characters as in the one shot « One more baby ? » because why not ?

Your daughter was finally in bed, which only meant one thing : it was on. Baby-making time. Ever since you had decided to try for another child, your evenings with Marshall were filled with… spirited activities. Your sex life had always been active, but trying for a baby had you ten times hornier than you usually were. Same for your husband. For the past two months, as soon as Lily’s bedroom lights were out, you couldn’t jump on each other fast enough.

Trying for a baby not only made you hornier, it also made you more daring, more creative, much to Marshall’s delight. He was definitely enjoying the many new lingerie sets you had bought, as well as the toys and accessories. Since you had Lily on your own, with IVF, you decided to have as much fun as you could as you tried to give her a sibling. New positions, games, accessories, toys… as long as he was cumming inside of you, everything was fair game.

You were ovulating and had been a horny mess since this morning. It didn’t help that your dutiful husband had decided to work from home, staying in his grey sweatpants that you found him so sexy in. Days like this, he would usually stay in his home office but, for some reason, he had decided to work in the dining room. You weren’t going to complain : at least you got to admire him.

It was the holidays so were taking care of Lily but you couldn’t help but throw longing glances at each other. Every time he got a chance, he would tease you, brushing against you, gently squeezing your butt… and you got right back at him, leaning and bending forward every time you were in front of him so that he could have a good view of either your ass or your boobs. You felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

From Husband ❤️ : Keep on teasing me like this and you’re not walking for the next week.

You flashed him a smile and « accidentally » dropped the pencils you were holding.

- Mommy, did you drop something again ? Lily asked in an annoyed voice.

- I did, baby, you replied as you tried to hide a smile. I guess I’m really clumsy today��

- Daddy always says that we should be careful with our things, your daughter reminded you.

- And Daddy is always right, Marshall added with a smirk. I swear, Lily is the only good girl around here…

You giggled and bent to pick up the pencils as your husband stared at you - or rather at your cleavage that also showed a hint of the lingerie set that was waiting for him. You saw him licking his lips. Obviously, black lace was always a good choice. You forgot where you were and eye-fucked each other for a second before being taken out of your trance by Lily.

- Daddy, will you come and draw with us ? She asked.

- I have work to do, sweetie, he said with a small pout. I’d love to draw with you but Paul is going to be very unhappy if I don’t review these contracts for tomorrow.

- Uncle Paul always gives you work, she complained as she rolled her eyes.

- True, he chuckled. Next time you see him, you tell him he needs to leave Daddy alone, alright ?

- Yes, she said. You’re my Daddy and I miss drawing with you.

You could see Marshall’s heart melt at these words. He threw a guilty glance at the contracts on the dining room table and you could tell he was tempted to drop everything.

- I really have to work, baby, he said. But if you let me work in peace, I can go quicker and then we can do something together, ok ?

- Ok, she said. Can we make pizza just the two of us tonight ?

- Of course, he said with a smile. We can cook for Mommy. I think she’s a little too clumsy to be in the kitchen today anyway.

You giggled and took your daughter to the living room to draw for a little bit. As the evening came, Marshall kept his promise and cooked with Lily. Pizza was her favorite thing to make with her Dad. The two of them always made a mess in the kitchen, but it made them so happy that it was worth it. When it was time for bed, she insisted that Marshall be the one to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story. She was clearly in her « Dad phase » and he was her favorite parent. You’d read it was normal so you didn’t worry much. Plus, it was fair : he was working a lot lately, so she probably missed him.

You decided to make the most of it and wait for your husband in the bedroom, only wearing your lingerie and high heels. With a 5 year-old, you didn’t wear your heels too much, but you knew how much Marshall loved the sight of your legs when you wore these red bottoms. You were searching for something in a drawer when you heard him enter the bedroom and lock the door. The familiar sound was always arousing to you. It was time to play.

- I have a bone to pick with you, Mrs Mathers, he said playfully in your ear as he stood behind you.

- Do you ? You giggled.

- You drove me crazy all day, he whispered. Time for consequences.

You were about to turn and face him when you felt his hands on the back of your neck, forcing you to bend over the dresser. He got closer to you until you could feel how hard he was. You couldn’t help but moan. After all, you had spent the whole day waiting for this moment. Little did he know that you were soaking wet.

- I could take you right here, he whispered in your ear.

- Please, you moaned.

- Not yet, he chuckled. Let me enjoy the view.

He ran his hands on your sides, your back, your legs, spilling kisses all over your body as you stayed in this position, all his to enjoy. He kneeled behind you and kissed your ass cheek before making your lace panties slide off your legs. He kissed your thigh, going higher and higher until you felt him kissing your pussy, from behind. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue up and down your slit. He slid a finger inside you, feeling how wet you were.

- For me ? He asked playfully.

- I was actually waiting for someone else, you couldn’t help but say.

He stopped and you felt a slap on your butt. Of course you had to run your mouth. It was going to be the death of you. You silently cursed yourself for making him stop what he was doing. You wanted his mouth and fingers back to your pussy, in their rightful place. He got up and whispered in your ear.

- Am I not enough ? He asked teasingly. Do you want more ?

- Marshall, you moaned. Please.

- No, he chuckled. I’ll give you more.

He opened the drawer next to you, where you kept your toys, and got your butt plug. He put it in your mouth, telling you to suck on it. When it was wet enough, he inserted it in you, before resuming his initial position and sliding two fingers inside of your pussy. His tongue worked his magic on your clit and you tried hard not to make too much noise. The sensation of the plug, his fingers and his tongue at the same time was sending you in overdrive. It was delicious. You thought you were about to come in no time but he seemed to have other plans.

- I’m not done with you yet, baby, he said. You teased me, now it’s my turn to have fun.

He just loved driving you crazy and you knew he got off on seeing you wrestle with your pleasure. Not that you were going to complain, mind you. After years of dating selfish men when it came to sex, Marshall was a breath of fresh air. You knew you had married the right man but, in that moment, you wished he would just pound into you and make you come already. Patience was definitely not your strong suit, and especially not when you were ovulating.

He grabbed your hand and pushed you on the bed, ass up, face down. In no time, he got rid of his clothes and he did not even bother undressing you. He just pushed your panties aside before entering you. His hip thrusts were painfully slow and you knew it was on purpose. However, you were not having it, so you rocked your hips in turn, owing you another slap on the ass. However, he indulged you and started moving faster. He reached for the plug and moved it a bit, causing you to whimper in pleasure. You were on verge of orgasm when he stopped again and laid down on the bed.

- Get on top, he said.

- You’re killing me, you groaned.

- Told you I’d get my revenge, he chuckled. Now, get on top before I leave you high and dry.

You were pretty sure he wouldn’t do this to you, but you were so needy that you weren’t willing to risk it. You were craving for release and he knew it. This gave your husband way too much power over you. He was smirking I when you got on top and lowered yourself on his length, taking all of it. The presence of the plug in your butt maximised the sensations and Marshall felt even bigger than usual. You moaned as you started moving, closing your eyes and chasing your high. Your man seemed to enjoy the sensations, too. He was usually a rather quiet lover but you could hear him whimper.

- God you’re so tight, he moaned.

- I’m close, you warned.

- Come for me.

Your movements started to become sloppy, much to your frustration. You were on the edge but couldn’t quite get there. You looked at Marshall. You didn’t have to say a word for him to understand you needed a bit of help.

- I got you, he said.

He reached in your nightstand and grabbed your Satisfyer. He turned it on and put it on your clit. Your body’s response was immediate. You were shaking on top of him and your soaked sex was clenching around his. It was so strong that you let out cries of pleasure. Marshall captured your lips in an attempt to shut you up, but to no avail. Your nails were digging in his chest.

- Fuck, he said as you felt him twitch inside of you, his release being imminent.

There were too many sensations at once for you to be able to think straight and control yourself. Every inch of you was stimulated. You let out screams of pleasure as you reached orgasm. You could feel your husband try and cover your mouth but you instinctively bit his hand. He pulled you close to him and your teeth found his shoulder as you kept on having spasms. It felt like never-ending waves of pleasure. You weren’t even sure if that lasted seconds of hours. Time and space had become vague concepts. All you could hear were your own sounds.

Your head was buried in Marshall’s neck as you came to your senses, both of you panting.

- Holy shit, you managed to mumble.

You were taken out of your zone by Lily screaming. Parental instinct kicked in and you stared at each other. « On it », Marshall said before hurrying into some clothes and out of the room. You quickly got out of bed and got rid of the sextoys before getting dressed as well. You were about to check on Lily and Marshall when you heard a knock on the door.

- Mommy ? Your husband asked. Can we come in ?

- Yes, you said.

He opened the door and you could see he was carrying Lily who seemed terrified.

- Mommy ! She cried.

- What’s wrong, my love ? You asked. Did you have a nightmare ?

- I heard you scream ! I’m scared…

You threw a glance at Marshall who was trying to hide a smirk. You never realised you could be this loud.

- It’s alright, you said as you walked to them and kissed her head. Everything’s fine, baby.

- Why did you scream, mommy ? She asked nervously.

- I was… scared, you said, trying to come up with a quick excuse.

- Of what ?

- Of the monster under the bed, Marshall tentatively explained. But don’t worry, I got rid of him.

She looked anxiously at her Dad, who have her a reassuring smile. The mark your teeth had left on his shoulder caught her eye and she looked at him anxiously.

- Did the monster bite you ?! She asked.

- What ? Oh uh… yeah, he said. I had to wrestle him. Scratched my chest too. But you should see him. He looks worse.

You let out a giggle. Thank God for his brain and quick thinking. Your daughter looked at you.

- Are you alright Mommy ? Did the monster bite you too ? She asked nervously.

- He didn’t, you said reassuringly. Thank God for your Dad. He’s a hero.

- I am a hero, Marshall said proudly.

Lily hugged him tighter and gave him a peck on the cheek.

- Thank you for saving my Mommy from the monster, she said. I’m proud of you, Daddy.

- Of course, he said with a big smile. I’ll never let anything happen to Mommy, or to you, or your sisters.

- Mommy… did the Monster pee on your bed ? Lily suddenly asked.

Marshall and you glanced at the bed. There was a huge wet spot, caused by a mix of squirt and sweat. You couldn’t help but blush. You might have had your most powerful orgasm ever, tonight, but you were definitely paying for it. You were absolutely mortified, while Marshall was trying really hard not to cry from laughter.

- I guess he did, you said sheepishly. That’s how scary Dad is.

- Why don’t we go downstairs for some water ? Marshall asked Lily. So that Mommy can sort the mess the monster made in bed.

- Yes, you do that and I’ll join you, you said.

- You should also open your window, Mommy. The monster stinks, Lily pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. The room reeked of smells typical of sex : sweat, squirt, pheromones and God knows what else. Marshall chuckled and winked at you before carrying her downstairs. You opened your bedroom window and changed the bedsheets. When you joined them in the kitchen, they were eating ice cream. You frowned, as they both knew what you thought of having sugary snacks before bed.

- We’re having a celebration, Marshall grinned. We’re celebrating the defeat of the scary monster under the bed.

- Oh, you giggled. In that case, I won’t say anything.

Lily was sitting on Marshall’s lap. She still seemed a little freaked out. He talked to her reassuringly as she asked some questions.

- I don’t want to go back to bed, she whined. What if the monster comes back ?

- I beat him real bad, you know ? He pointed out. I don’t think he will be bad anytime soon.

- What if his family comes back for revenge ? She asked nervously.

- I’ll wrestle each and everyone of them, he said. Come, I’ll tuck you in.

As he carried her up the stairs, she started hiccuping again. He stopped in his tracks and looked at you. Her cries were heartbreaking. You were a little mad at yourself for scaring her with your screams. You joined and hugged the two of them.

- Can I sleep with you tonight ? She asked.

- Of course, you said. But just for tonight, ok ?

The three of you settled in bed and you were ready to turn the lights out when she started asking about the scary monster again. Both you and your husband kept on trying to reassure her but it didn’t seem to work too well. Marshall sighed and got up. You wondered what he was up to, but you quickly understood as he came back with his huge lightsaber replica from Star Wars, which served as decor in his home office that also doubled as a man cave.

- I thought it was not supposed to be taken from the wall ? Lily pointed out.

- Yeah… except in case of monsters, duh, Marshall replied with a grin. If anyone comes in here, I promise you they won’t last long.

Your little girl nodded and settled between you and Marshall. You kissed her forehead as she held your hand tightly. Your husband smiled at you and mouthed « I love you » before turning the lights off.

In the morning, everything was back to normal, though Lily still mentioned the monster. You weren’t too sure how to deal with it and you were a bit scared you had unlocked a new trauma… you were anxiously staring at Marshall, who proved (once again) to be a quick thinker and the real genius in the house.

- How about we call Lainie and ask her if you can have a sleepover at her house tonight ? He asked Lily.

- Why ? She asked.

- Well, I think Mommy and I should check the whole house for monsters tonight, he said as he winked at you. Just in case, you know ?

Author’s Note : I hope you enjoyed this short story ❤️. I really like writing with these characters (I think Marshall and Lily are so cute) so if you have any requests for them, please keep them coming 💖.

[juniperdugong]

Forgot Your Lunch - Scoups

WC: 1023 || Genre: Fluff :) ...Angst :( || Happy (late) Birthday to this very handsome man!! ❤

A/N: If this does well maybe a pt.2 with what happened? (I totally don't have a whole story in my head about this fic alr...and this totally wasn't meant to be a teaser but got out of hand)

Some songs that inspired this fic!

Those morning hours, right before the sun shines in all its splendor, when most people are still resting their tired brains, and when quietness feels like a warm welcome to the day.

These were Seungcheol's favorite hours. The slivers of warm orange sunlight peaking through the curtains illuminating the space, giving the house a different type of glow. He relished in the fact that no one, not even you, was awake during this time. It gave him all the pleasure of gazing at your sleeping figure and giving you a few feather-light kisses before he actually got started with his day.

Seungcheol had gotten really into cooking when you two got together. Watched the tutorials, wrote down the recipes, and did a lot of the grocery shopping when he had the time - he even asked for help from Mingyu when he was really struggling. All of this effort put in for one simple goal - to be able to make your lunches for work.

He took great pride in making sure your lunch was not only healthy and balanced but nice on the eyes as well! Presentation was half the battle of cooking in his (humble) opinion.

Today wasn't any different, after haphazardly washing up he waltzed into the kitchen and chose a fitting playlist for such a joyful morning. He knows what to make, one of your favorites, a very simple and delicious spread of kaarage, a rolled omelet, rice, and a mix of fruits and vegetables cut up in the cutest little shapes! (Never forgetting the homemade spicy mayo, of course.) It's a specialty of his - and more than that - it was the first lunch he made you that you had raved about to your coworkers, only boosting his ego evermore.

Humming along to the music he went through the motions of washing and cooking the rice, setting out all the ingredients he'd need, and placing all the dishware on the counter in an assembly line. The few times that you'd woken up early enough to witness this practiced scene you'd have to admit that it was impressive the way he had gotten it all down to a T. Like a drill sergeant he would lead the charge in the kitchen, at least in the mornings, and if you ever dared to lift a finger…the earful you'd get before work- But what else can you expect from the most loving husband in the world AND the leader of one of the top kpop groups in history?

It's like everything, all the problems and worries, drifted away during this time. The sole issue in Seungcheol's entire world being what you would eat for the day. It was his way of showing you that he still cared and that he was still very committed. With a job that kept him away from you for such long periods of time and that took up all his energy and attention when he was home, it only felt right to do something as small as wake up before you and devote some time to you - even if you weren't always there to see it.

It would be a very hard task to try and tear away the smile that grew from him as he carefully assembled the different pieces of your food into a bento box. The only change in expression coming from the way his brows would furrow and his mouth would form a pout when he was ultra-focused with a knife or when he was gently making the finishing touches.

He took the chicken from the hot oil and placed them on a paper towel-lined plate - he knew how much you hated the excess oil when you ate. Turning off the stove in a swift movement he turned his attention to slicing the egg roll into perfectly proportioned pieces that you could eat in one bite. Then the fruits and vegetables - today's variety, some blueberries, leftover chocolate-covered strawberries, and a small salad with cherry tomatoes, all served with a small toothpick - he took note of that little comment you had made about how eating things with a toothpick makes the experience a bit more fun.

With a little jaunt in his step, he moved to put the puzzle together in an eye-pleasing manner. And once he was satisfied - he stepped back from his masterpiece. His gift to you. He looked at the clock-

8pm.

Oh.

It's night time.

That's right.

He stilled completely, coming back to reality. He left the kitchen with a ruffle to his hair. Dragging his feet into the bedroom he let his hands roam around the cold sheets, desperately searching for your warmth - your figure.

This was your bed too! The one you shared. C'mon, you remember, right? You're supposed to be here.

He looked out the window, no slivers of sunlight. Just the light pollution of a bustling city.

It's late and you're supposed to be home now, works done. It's supposed to be done.

He balled up all the sheets in his two fists and knelt on the bed. Gritting his teeth through tears that didn't dare hold back his emotions. And he punched that mattress so damn hard he could swear it felt like a human fighting back against him. The tangling of the sheets feels like Seungkwan and Dino holding him back from doing something else to hurt himself. He screamed so loud that his throat hurt, and he choked himself with the sound until red and veins popped. Drunk on something akin to anger but closer to loneliness he headed face-first into a pillow - but oh it was yours. The one you laid on just a few days ago. His tears and snot smeared across the blank canvas created a gross mirage but he didn't care. He let himself sit there, inhaling everything you left. Wailing into your remnants - curling up into your side of the bed, what would always be your side of the bed.

You forgot your lunch. It's here with him. "So come back, y/n. I'm really fucking sorry."

A/N: Hey guys...been a minute (a few days) And I come back with this- I do really like this though. Love me some happy memories and train wreck tbh. Let me know what you lovelies think! Have a great weekend or week, depending on when you see this. (protip DO NOT read this while listening to "The Place Where He Inserted the Blade" almost shat tears) Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[angelic-muse]

unforgettable

a/n: i couldn't not write anything for his special day, so enjoy, and happiest of birthdays to my silly mosshead man. this was written with both anime and opla zoro in mind so feel free to interpret it as either.

pairing: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings: just fluff, not proofread

summary: it's your lover's birthday, and what better way to start the celebration than to stay awake and surprise him at midnight?

...that is, if you can stay awake.

must stay awake... must stay awake.

the sentence replayed itself in your groggy head like a mantra, a broken record stuck on repeat, a toy train running in slow circles around your brain as you fought the urge to tip over the line between wakefulness and sleep.

zoro deserved more than that.

"my birthday? never really done anything for it," he'd grunted the day before after you'd brought it up. the swordsman had frowned, scratched his head. "kinda forgot it was tomorrow, actually."

and it was then that you decided to make this birthday — and all his next ones, for that matter — unforgettable.

so after some pleading with nami that then lead to careful rearrangement of night watch schedules (despite the crew's grumbling), zoro would be set to finish his shift at midnight — exactly midnight.

and what would he find when he returned to his room? you, of course, waiting for the moment he stepped through the door to shower him in love and birthday wishes, followed by a day of celebrations just for him.

well, that was your plan.

but the actual staying awake hadn't been part of it.

since your shift for night watch was the last one, just before sunrise, you were lucky enough to be able to sleep soundly all night till then. which meant you were not at all used to being awake at this time and your body was slowly but surely losing the fight to fall unconscious.

you yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as you turned to squint at the sky, the gentle moonlight washing the deck of the going merry in its milky glow. it wasn't quite yet at its highest point — still not midnight.

surely a little lay down before zoro returned couldn't hurt, right?

don't fall asleep, you promised yourself one last time as you settled into his own hammock, breathing in the lingering scent of him with a sigh. don't fall asleep...

zoro muttered angrily as he stomped across the ship back to his room, not bothering to soften the loud thumping of his boots against the planks, swords clanking noisily at his hip.

"serves 'em right if they wake up," he groused, "putting me up there at this time all of a sudden for no fuckin' reason—"

he cut short as he shoved into his room, raising a brow at the sight that met him as he rid himself of swords and shirt. there you were, curled up in his spot, sleeping soundly like a contented cat.

"the hell you doing in my hammock?" he grumbled under his breath, but zoro slid in beside you anyways, throwing an arm over your shoulders and folding the other behind his head. he didn't mind that you were here — he never did. sleeping beside you was nothing out of the ordinary anymore. he liked it, enjoyed the easy comfort and security that came with you tucked against his side; hearts beating in time, every breath shared.

it was right when zoro was beginning to drift off that he felt you stir awake. cracking open one eye, he watched as you sat up, blinking tiredly. "zo... zoro?"

"what got you up?" he murmured as you yawned and stretched your arms overheard. "m'here, get back to sleep." get back to cuddling me.

"the smell of a pirate who hasn't showered in a week," you joked groggily, rubbing at your eyes. then you froze. shit.

shit!

"no, i fell asleep!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands. how could you? you promised yourself you wouldn't, for him, and now... "fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... i'm sorry." you peeked back up at him, lower lip stuck out.

zoro frowned. "hah? what the hell are you on about?"

"i was meant to stay up," you said sadly. "to say happy birthday to you. at midnight. that's why i got nami to change your watch..."

rubbing a hand across his face, zoro sat up to look at you properly, blinking sleep away. you went to the trouble of getting his night watch changed and stayed up in his room just to say happy birthday to him? seriously?

he'd be surprised, but really, that was just the kind of stupid, endearing thing you'd do.

and so he laughed.

you blinked at him as his wide shoulders shook with mirth, head tossed back. an embarrassed warmth crept up your neck and you folded your arms, attempting to glare at him even as you fought to hold down a smile. "wh— it's not funny!"

"nah," he grinned at you as his laughter died down. "it's just cute. c'mere."

you yelped in half-protest as zoro grabbed your head to pull into his chest, laying back down with a sigh.

"you don't hafta... stay up until midnight or do shit like that just for me." he uttered after a moment of quiet, brushing his fingers through your hair. "you need your sleep, and i need mine. so just... just wait until morning next year, yeah?"

"i... okay," you sighed, trailing a finger across his chest, drawing mindless patterns over scarred, tawny skin, making him suppress a shiver. "i still have stuff planned for later, though."

"yeah? let's hear it."

"i'm not ruining the surprise, silly. but... i did get you some presents and convinced sanji to bake you a cake. among other things."

zoro snorted. "bet that shitty cook did it for you more than me."

"probably," you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. "don't get jealous that he might love me more than you, it's okay."

the swordsman scoffed, turning you both on your sides with a grunt. "maybe, but he'll never love you as much as i do."

you chuckled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; steel and sweat with an earthier undertone somewhere beneath. "i love you too, even though you still smell like you've never showered."

zoro barked out a laugh, tightening a thick arm around your waist to pull you further into him. "i'll take a shower for your birthday, how's that sound?"

you peered up at him and wrinkled your nose. he grinned.

"you're gross," you muttered with a smile even as you snuggled further into him. he kissed your forehead and you could feel his own smile against your skin.

"and you still love me."

"lucky you, huh?"

zoro exhaled softly, closing his eyes. "yeah, lucky me."

slowly, quiet draped itself over the two of you like the softest blanket, comforting and warm as the sounds of your breathing lulled each other to sleep after gentle whispers of goodnight and wishes of good dreams. and he rocked you in his arms, like how the gentle waves rocked you from below, mother nature's cradle for her sleeping children as they rested in an embrace so tightly woven with nothing but pure love not even the sharpest sword could ever hope to sever it.

and that morning, when zoro awoke to his dear lover smothering his face with kisses as they pulled him from his sleep with the promise of birthday gifts, he knew with clarity, such a deep, resounding clarity it made his heart ache—

that you, on this day and every other, were the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

nia's ask box is open!

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

A Lesson in Love - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader (Referred to as Ms. T)

Word Count: 1.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Bob Being Adorable; Valentine's Day Shenanigans; Bob Deals with a Lot of Meddlers; Bob Has a Niece Named Phoebe; Reader is Female, but No Physical Description, Reader Referred to as "Ms. T" (The "T" stands for Teacher because I'm so Creative), No Use of Y/N

Summary: Bob has no plans for Valentine's Day. So, he gets set up to meet his niece's very cute teacher instead.

Master List

Bob didn’t really have any specific thoughts on Valentine’s Day. If he had a partner, he would do something special, of course, but he wasn’t bothered by the fact that he spent the last four Valentine’s Days in a row single. He was deployed for three of them and he didn’t have anything planned this Valentine’s Day. 

Quietly, he was honestly happy with it. Everyone seemed to put so much stress over a random weekday and he was content to avoid the chaos. But there were several people in his life who were not. 

And he was almost completely sure that his mom and Phoenix were scheming behind his back. 

“You still don’t have any plans tonight?” Phoenix asked Bob, who shook his head. 

“No. I was just going to do some more paperwork and probably call it an early night. Maybe I’ll watch that new documentary that Penny recommended.” 

“Please tell me that something in there is a code word,” Fanboy stated, causing Bob to roll his eyes. “Come on, Bob, just let one of us set you up on a blind date.” 

“I have a list,” Phoenix offered, but Bob shook his head. 

“A first date on Valentine’s Day? That’s a great idea! How could that possibly go wrong?” he returned sarcastically, causing Phoenix and Fanboy to share a look. 

But before anyone could speak again, Bob’s phone started to buzz. Fishing it out of his pocket, Bob saw his mom’s contact pop up and excused himself from the table. He answered the call as he walked out of the mess.

“Hey, Ma, what do you need?” 

“Why do you just assume that I’m calling because I need something, Robert? A mother can’t just check up on her son?” Bob waited for a moment before his mom added, “Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Goodbye, Ma.” 

“I only ask because I completely forgot that Phoebe’s parent-teacher conference is tonight and your father and I already made plans. I was going to have our neighbor, Ms. Abel, watch her for a few hours, but obviously she can’t attend the parent-teacher conference for us.” 

“What time is her parent-teacher conference?” 

“Seven.” 

“I’ll just watch Phoebe tonight. That's fine, Ma. I’ll pick her up from your house after work.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart! And maybe you’ll meet someone there—” 

“—Oh, sorry, Ma, there’s an alarm going off, I have to go. Bye.” 

“Robert Martin Floyd—” 

Bob hung up the phone and sighed to himself before heading back inside the mess. What was it about Valentine’s Day that made everyone lose their minds?

“Who was that?” Phoenix asked as Bob sat back down.

“My ma. She asked me to take my niece to her parent-teacher conference for her.” 

“That’s better than paperwork,” Fanboy conceded.

“Is her teacher cute?” Phoenix questioned. 

“Do you hear that alarm going off?” Bob suggested, causing Phoenix to roll her eyes. 

~~~~~

“Alright, you lead the way,” Bob stated, setting his niece on the ground from the car. “You’re the pilot here, Bee.” 

“Come on, Uncle Bob,” Phoebe called, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her. “We’re going to be late!” 

“Bee, we’re ten minutes early.” 

But Bob still let his niece practically drag him through the halls of her elementary school. Phoebe marched him down the ‘First Grade’ wing and stopped in front of a purple door. But Bob held her back from going inside.

“There’s people in there. Just sit and wait for a little bit. We’re early.” 

Bob sat Phoebe down in one of the short chairs meant for children and sat in the similarly short chair beside her. And with his long legs, he looked rather comedic sitting there. Phoebe talked his ear off about all of the art that was hung up and Bob complimented her paintings. 

The sound of the door opening caused Bob to turn his head. A couple stepped out of the classroom, followed by Phoebe’s teacher, who was dressed in a soft pink dress with paper hearts that were clearly cut out by her students taped to it. She bid the couple goodbye before turning to Bob and Phoebe, who jumped up from her seat when she realized that it was her turn. 

“Hi, Ms. T!” 

“Hi, Phoebe,” Ms. T greeted the little girl kindly before turning to Bob.

The wizzo in question awkwardly got to his feet from the child-sized chair under Ms. T’s gaze and tried to subtly smooth his shirt down. Phoebe’s teacher was cute, though he wouldn’t mention that to Phoenix or his mom. She radiated kindness but had that distinct look in her eye that she could quickly knock anyone down a few pegs. 

Bob could quickly tell why Phoebe liked her so much. 

“And who did you bring with you?” Ms. T asked Phoebe. 

“This is my Uncle Bob,” Phoebe stated, pulling Bob forward. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bob returned, holding out his hand for Ms. T to shake. “My parents couldn’t make it, so I’m standing in for them. I’m Phoebe’s uncle.” 

“I already said that,” Phoebe reminded Bob.

“Oh, of course. I’ve seen your names on some of her forms. Please, come in.” 

Bob took his seat at the front of the room and was relieved that he wouldn’t have to look ridiculous sitting in a child-sized seat again. Phoebe sat in the hallway, coloring and playing with toys, while Bob and Ms. T discussed her progress. 

Ms. T showed Bob a standardized worksheet that listed basic skills with comments about how Ms. T thought that Phoebe was doing. Bob listened to her comments on Phoebe’s performance intently and was relieved to find out that they were pretty much all positive.

“The only area that I think that Phoebe can improve on is her confidence,” Ms. T stated, causing Bob to nod. “She’s smart and a very thoughtful little girl. And if I thought she knew that I wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t think she does. There’s nothing wrong with being quiet or shy, but I don’t want her to ever get discouraged or down on herself.”

“Shyness runs in our family,” Bob stated, causing Ms. T to smile softly. “My dad’s side. So, this isn’t a shock.”

“How is Phoebe at home?”

“She won’t stop talking or bossing me around, but I understand that school with kids her own age is a different environment from that.”

“Yes, it is. She’s very outgoing if it’s one on one or if she’s with her friends, but she just needs a little more support in public situations.”

“I could try and come to more of her school events. I’ll talk to my Captain about moving some things in my schedule,” Bob suggested, causing Phoebe’s teacher to nod. “Not that my mom isn’t here to support Phoebe, but I don’t think that she knows the meaning of the word ‘shy.’”

“I can understand that,” Ms. T mused, chuckling softly. “Well, I can give you a list of some class events that we have between now and the end of the year.” 

She got up from her table and walked to the back of the room to grab a piece of paper. Scribbling something on it quickly, she walked back over and handed the paper to Bob, whose eyes immediately dropped to the number that she had written down. 

“I’m assuming that your mom already has it, but that’s the number to my school phone. And my email too. And here is the kids’ schedule,” she continued, pulling out another piece of paper and handing it over to Bob. “You can feel free to call me during any of the breaks that you see where they’re in specials or lunch.” 

“Thank you,” Bob replied, smiling kindly in return. “I’ll let you know what events I can make.” 

They walked out to the hallway and Phoebe quickly popped up from her table and came trotting over. Staring up at her Uncle Bob with that distinct begging look that Bob always ended up cracking for, Phoebe glanced between Bob and her teacher.

“Ice cream?” 

“Yeah, I think we can get ice cream,” Bob agreed, kneeling down to Phoebe’s height. “But if grandma asks?”

“We got brussel sprouts.” 

“That’s right.” 

Phoebe smiled and bounced in place, eager to go. She bid goodbye to Ms. T, promising to see her tomorrow, before grabbing Bob’s hand and urging him away. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Bob called back to Ms. T, who laughed and waved goodbye to them. 

“I hope to see you again,” she returned before Phoebe tugged Bob around the corner. 

~~~~~

Four Months Later . . .

“Phoebe Floyd,” Ms. T called out.

The crowd of family members—and several supportive naval aviators—cheered as Phoebe jogged across the stage. Ms. T gave her a little badge to signify that she was now a second grader before gently nudging her to join her other classmates. 

And once they went through the rest of the kids, the day wrapped up. Bob picked up Phoebe and spun her around until his mom urged him to put her down so that they could take family pictures. After a few, Phoebe tugged on Bob’s hand until he bent down to her level. Phoebe leaned over and cupped her hands around his ear. 

“Ms. T needs help carrying stuff back to the classroom.” 

“Yeah?” Bob asked, causing Phoebe to nod quickly before leaning in again.

“Can I be the flower girl?” Phoebe added, earning a choked sound from her uncle.

Ms. T was in the middle of gathering the decorations when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she smiled softly when she saw Bob jogging over to her. 

“Need any help?”

“I won’t turn it down.” 

“So, are you excited for summer vacation?” Bob asked Ms. T, who nodded in return. “Do you have any plans?”

“I was hoping that some cute naval aviator with these big dorky glasses and these big blue eyes was going to ask me on a date,” Ms. T stated, causing Bob to flush with embarrassment. “But I don’t know if that will ever happen.” 

“Well, maybe he was waiting for you to no longer be his niece’s teacher before asking you out,” Bob replied, taking the box from her hands. “Which reminds me, do you have any plans for Friday night?”

“I do now,” Ms. T replied with a wide smile.