#my head hurts so much but yay sleep

[stalkerofstuff]

Look look- it may be 1am but I slept, for like

A normal time for once-

Like seven hours

[dollfacefantasy]

Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth. 

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road.  It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and  surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks. 

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation. 

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself. 

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

[bellflower-goat]

.

[myfictionaldreams]

Safety Measures // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Extra reading: Last Hope for background context

A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful readers! I hope everyone is well and safe.

Requested by: @theatrelove3000 thank you so so much for the request and all your support with my writing. As always, you're the best!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, ptsd, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, discussion of past abuse, domestic fluff, dom/sub undertones, cock warming, subspace (kinda), hurt/comfort, new member of the family (yay!), puppy

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Insomnia was an issue you’d never had to deal with before. Not when you have two of the most powerful men of all of the East Coast tiring you out and wrapped around your body to make you feel safe and content.

However, as the seconds ticked by on the clock position on the nightstand next to the bed, you’d found that your body was willing to do anything but sleep. As midnight struck, any hope that had been inkling in your thoughts was diminished. There you were, half sprawled over Steve’s naked chest, his warmth burning through your skin, with Bucky spooning around your back, sandwiching you thoroughly between the two of them, legs crisscrossed between one another.

Even in the safe embrace, your heart continued to palpate painfully in your chest with such powerful thumps you were worried it would wake one of your lovers.

It was always this day. This date. Every year, that sprung fear through your soul, with the memories of your past returning to haunt you. Before Bucky. Before Steve or either of their safety and love, you’d been involved with your family business, reigned by your sadistic brother, Enzo, who was both hateful and abusive, causing you to live a life that was not worth living at all.

For countless years, you’d simply been floating through life, doing anything your brother demanded to benefit his gang. There was no hope, love, or light in your life until the men whose arms you were wrapped tightly in found you, saved you, and showed you what life was about. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, especially with the violent and bloody end to your brother, but then readjusting to the newfound freedom had taken its toll. The anxiety from your past still haunts you to this very day.

In truth, in the first few years surrounding your brother's death anniversary, you’d celebrated the beginning of your new happiness and life. However, as you grew older and had to live through the dangers of being in the most infamous mafia gang in Brooklyn, your optimistic perspective became somewhat fragile with the realities of becoming close to losing everyone and everything you loved on multiple occasions.

So now, when this dark day loomed over your head once more, your anxiety rose along with the reminder of the horrors that you’d experience throughout your lifetime. Paranoia blossomed into something that was logically not plausible, frightened that somehow, Enzo would return and take you back to the hell hole he once kept you contained within.

These fears had been discussed with both Steve and Bucky on multiple occasions, as well as your friends, who promptly reminded you that nowhere was safer on earth than with all of them. There was 24/7 surveillance within the office and your home, guards patrolling, all armed and trained, as well as having the enhanced bodies of your boyfriends always at your side.

You were safe.

Safe.

And yet, still, there you lay. Wide awake, breaths shallow, trying to remain as quiet as possible so that you may listen to any sounds of intruders walking through your home. It is an impossible feat to do either way due to the pounding of your heartbeat without your ears, the repetitive thump and drum that increased in speed over the minutes. Your palms were becoming clammy where they were resting on Steve’s chest, a faint tremble beginning to throb through your limbs as well. You closed your fingers into a tight fist, attempting to cease the shaking whilst blowing out a long breath as the clock ticked to 00:01 am.

It was no use. You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t just simply lay there and wait to be attacked or taken.

Carefully as you could, you attempted to climb out of your fierce hold, but due to your fragile state and the firm grip of Steve and Bucky, the movements stirred them both awake.

“Baby? Everything ok? Where are you going?” Steve asked, still half asleep but attempting to rouse himself more by rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sorry”, you whisper into the darkness, “I just needed to use the bathroom”. The lie trembled from your lips as you clumsily searched the bedroom floor for some clothing to cover your naked body. From the smell of the shirt that you were now tugging over your head, you’d found Bucky’s t-shirt in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to remain in the darkness, you could see Bucky moving closer to Steve on the bed, his face resting on the blonde's chest, replacing where you’d been.

The sight had you smiling for a split second before a rustle of the wind against the windows drew your frightened attention back to reality. Stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, there was a stalling moment where the walls seemed to close around you. Strangling. Suffocation. The fears of your past squeezing closer.

“No”, you chastise yourself in a whisper barely audible as you take a single sweeping step towards the sink, running the cold water to splash it on your face. “Enzo is dead. Stop freaking out, you’re being ridiculous!”. Yes, you were having a conversation with yourself, but only because it was a coping mechanism before you completely lost your mind and had a panic attack.

“Get a hold of yourself!”, you continue the monologue whilst staring at your distressed reflection in the mirror. “You’re safe here in your home”. For some reason, your bottom lip began quivering with the rising emotions and the overwhelming urge to cry. Giving your body a thorough head-to-body shake and angrily wiping away the traitorous tears dripping down your cheeks, you also gave yourself stern talking.

“Either you get yourself together, or you embarrass yourself and wake up Steve and Bucky”. You wouldn’t, not when it was something as irrational as being frightened that your definitely deceased deranged brother would somehow return from the dead to steal you to a life of misery. You couldn’t stomach waking them from their slumber to see the sad puppy eyes they would give you as they told you all the things you already knew. You were safe with them; they’d never let anything bad happen.

Filling your lungs with air, you blew out a long, slow breath until your lungs were completely empty. “Right. One search of the house and back to bed”, you decided, needing to check the surroundings with the hopes it would ease your battle with anxiety and insomnia.

Upon leaving the ensuite bathroom, you were thankfully greeted by the sound of two distinctively soft snores from both men still lying together in bed. Tip-toeing past them and into the hallway, you made sure to keep the lights off with your eyes having adjusted to the darkness as you approached Steve’s office.

There were a few things that you needed from this room. Firstly, to check the security camera feeds from his laptop, showing every angle possible surrounding the house and inside the many rooms of the luxury property. The baseball bat was also hiding beneath the desk. It was one of many weapons stashed throughout your home, carefully placed by both Bucky and his bodyguard Natasha and even though a gun would be a swifter finale for any intruder, there were still more consequences if you were to shoot the firearm accidentally and hit the wrong target whereas, with a bat, you could still keep someone at arm's length and also not fatally wound a friend if they came knocking at the door.

Clutching the smooth bat in both of your trembling hands, you watched the screen, flicking between rooms and areas of the exterior of your home, not spotting a single leaf out of place. In fact, the only emotion that seemed to bloom through your chest was adoration as you stared at the bedroom video feed, noticing that Bucky was now the bigger spoon, wrapped thoroughly around Steve, whose hands were stretched out to your side of the bed, like in his unconscious state, he was still searching for you.

Guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the sight, and closed the laptop with a sigh. You knew this paranoia would fade by the time tomorrow came around. Still, it was completely illogical for you to react rationally today, so with a sigh that echoed around the office, you stood and began to search the property physically.

Holding the bat at arm's length, you peeked around corners first then swung before stepping out. You'd been trained to use all the weapons scattered throughout the house with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, even with how to strike with a baseball bat effectively.

Every shift of shadows out of the corner of your eyes and every creak of the house naturally settling or knocking with the raging winds outside had your heart racing and senses going into full alert.

One check of the house turned into four full sweeps to ensure no one was there. It was also a slow and thorough check, so by the time you were stepping carefully through the kitchen, glancing out of the back window and into the dark abyss that was your back garden. The creak of footsteps echoed from upstairs; you’d become lost and disorientated on the search, and you had neglected to check the time.

05:03 am.

A sniffle and quiet cough followed the footsteps of the man who had decided to wake earlier than most. In a rush of adrenaline and the need to not be found with a baseball bat in hand like a crazy lady in the dark, you decided to hide the weapon in one of the kitchen cupboards and quickly pretended to be preparing coffee as the sleepy steps wandered down the carpeted stairs.

Placing two cups onto the kitchen counter, you almost held your breath in anticipation for the morning grumbly welcome by whoever had woken first. Steve and Bucky both like to be awake early, much to your usual pleas for them to stay in bed.

However, as the man walked into the kitchen, not a single word was shared as he stepped up close behind you, enveloping your body in a warm and metal arm, wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you backwards until flush against a naked chest. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into your neck as lips gently kissed the sensitive skin as you sighed, eyes closing and all tension diminishing into the floor at the feeling of finally being safe.

The two of you swayed on the spot, wrapped in the tight embrace, listening to the water in the coffee pot. One of your hand gripped onto the metal fingers, feeling the smooth material beginning to warm and match the temperature of your skin. The other hand lifted to rest on the back of his head, scratching his buzzed hair, earning a comforting moan from Bucky as he kissed your jaw.

“It’s a rare day when you’re awake before me”, Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing it. Goosebumps lined your body with the gruff tone of his early morning voice. He didn’t pester you any more about why you were awake at this time, but he did pinch the hem of your shirt. “Is it your plan to always wear my shirts so I must be topless?”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, shaking your head as you poured the coffee into each cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

The two of you sat at the dining room table, coffee in one hand and in the other you held onto one another, admiring the night turn into the day with dawn breaking over the fences that lined the back garden. It was blissful and a welcomed distraction from the terrors beneath your surface.

Steve eventually joined, groaning about waking up alone as he kissed you, then Bucky on the back of the head. “Who knew the big grown mafia boss could be so needy?” Bucky quipped with a teasing smirk over the rip of his cup before taking another glug of the coffee.

“That’s a lot of sass for someone who will be going without any breakfast if he keeps it up”, Steve grumbles as he looks through the refrigerator to start preparing the three of you breakfast like he did on most mornings. Before Bucky could respond, Steve asked curiously, “Why is there a baseball bat in with the plates?”

Your eyes downcast to stare into your empty cup, shrugging your shoulders at the burning stares of your boyfriends. “I don’t know. Anyway, who wants a fresh coffee?”

Thankfully, nothing more was mentioned regarding the random appearance of the baseball bat as the three of you ate and prepared to head into the office. You were thankful for the distraction working in the gang gave you, especially on a stressful day like today. Although the paranoia and anxiety that had kept you awake still bubbled away beneath the surface.

On the car journey to work, even squished between Steve and Bucky in the back seats, their hands eagerly resting on the naked skin of your thighs, having pushed the dress up to have the contact. Even your bodyguard and best friend Sam, who was driving the vehicle, couldn’t ease the panic that came from every car horn that blared, the dangerously speeding vehicles that passed or just the erratic driving that was expected with other idiots on the road.

Every single disruption had you anticipating that the car you were in would be hit or stopped, and your brother would then arrive and drag you away. Of course, this didn’t happen, and as you came to work, another heavy sigh released from your body as you walked through the extensive security to get to the office.

New shipments of discreetly stolen goods had arrived, which was a welcome distraction for you, checking the quality and organising where and to whom it would be sold. This only lasted for an hour before the coldness began to creep in, and you made excuses to return to Steve and Bucky back in the office.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Bucky reminds you carefully whilst pulling your chair closer to his. You couldn’t meet his intense stare as you shifted your body under his awaiting arm so you were cuddled close to his side.

“Yep”, you respond casually, leaning into his warmth.

Bucky’s face lowered to your ear as he stroked his fingers down your arm. “And you also know you’re safe with me. With Steve. In this building or home. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Doll”.

You smile politely at him, trying to ignore the guilt that, for some reason, passed over you as you reached to take his hand that was draped over your shoulders. “I know”.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bbcky checking his phone for the 15th time in an hour. Not that you’d been counting.

Finally, he seemed to receive the notification he’d been waiting for as he suddenly sprung up from his seat, pulling his leather jacket swiftly.

A frown settled over your features as you sat forward, “where are you going?”

Bucky glanced towards Steve first before addressing your question. “I’ve just got some errands to run, nothing special. I won’t be long, Sweetheart”.

He was leaving you. On a day when you needed him most so that you felt safe, he for some reason had to go.

You stood abruptly, pushing back your chair and taking urgent steps towards him whilst nervously playing with your fingers. “You’re going to leave me on my own!”

“Who am I? The milkman?” Sam joked from where he was standing near the door, and you instantly regretted the words, having not meant them that way. What’s worse is that Steve muttered something under his breath from his desk and now you were riddled with more guilt as Bucky’s sad eyes turned to you, his hands resting heavily on your shoulders.

“I won’t be long, and maybe you’ll get a surprise later.” He tried to bring a smile to your lips, but it was worthless as you were caught between staring at Sam and Steve, trying to find the words to apologise. Bucky breathed heavily through his nose at seeing you distraught, but then his phone pinged again, so with one last kiss to your temple, he made his way to the exit.

Turning to Sam whilst awkwardly rubbing your cheek to ease the burning of embarrassment under your skin, you attempted to apologise, but Steve cut off your sentence. “I’m sorr-”.

“Baby, come here”.

Turning towards the comforting voice, you saw that Steve’s full attention was now on you. He’d moved his seat away from his desk and opened his arm, a clear sign for you to approach, which you did with rushed steps before climbing into his warm, sturdy lap. Your knees rested on either side of his thighs as your fingers caded through the curling blonde hair at the nape of his neck which you were quick to bury your face into, breathing in his calming cologne.

“I’m sorry about the comment; I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m not alone. My head is just all over the place and-”.

“Shh, I know, baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. I know you’d rather us both be around for you today”. There it was. The one small mention and reference made by someone else that this was a day that you hated. It’s not that it needed to be spoken about as it had been clear that both of your boyfriends had been trying their hardest to be there for you today by being at your side as much as possible, constantly checking in with your emotions and making sure you ate and drank enough.

But Steve saying it out loud seemed to make it all the more real, so as you clung to him with more desperation, his arms did just the same until it felt as if there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t currently being touched by his giant frame.

“I love you, Steve, so much”, you plead to him in a tired daze, finally feeling somewhat safe now that you were crowded into his body.

“I’d do anything for you, baby girl, you know that. I love you too. Try and get some sleep; it’ll make the day go faster”.

You wanted to and knew you could if you’d let your eyes drop close, but something still wasn’t sitting right like an itch that needed to be scratched.

“Could I please make one request… sir?” you say, nerves beginning to flicker through your chest at the intimacy of the request, already starting to switch into the role of the submissive mind, especially after the fragile state you’d been in all day.

Steve seemed to straighten his posture at using the name, and his lips kissed the top of your head a few times before he responded, “Anything”.

Lifting your head away from his neck and gazing into the endlessly intense blue eyes that always looked so kindly down at you, you asked, “Please can we touch everywhere? I just want to sit and be close”.

Steve tried not to smile at the innocence and the way you couldn’t even say the words, ‘Please can I cock warm you?’ which he knew was what you were asking. Reaching between your bodies, he began to undo his belt and zipper, “You know you don’t need to ask, Sweetheart. I want you to feel comfortable”.

You could never explain to someone why you loved the thought of cock warming so much. It seemed to settle both your nerves and put you into a relaxing state. Not at all times, though. Half the time, it would just turn you into a horny, wet mess that ended with you riding the cock until at least three orgasms. But other times, such as now, you just needed to be stretched and feel as close to Steve as possible.

Lifting higher onto your knees, you moved aside your underwear and lifted the front of your dress as you manoeuvred yourself to accommodate the toe-curling length that was Steve Rogers. Through your groaning sigh, you couldn’t hear Steve’s matching noise as he made sure you were comfortable with a steading arm around your hips before shuffling his seat closer to the desk and continuing with his work and talking to Sam about an email he’d just received.

You were asleep before hearing the end of the email being read out. Your head is resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding onto the material of his crisp navy blue shirt. You were warm, full and safe.

Hours later, as the sun began to set and the day passed, you were still drowsy, much more relaxed than you had been in the morning. You’d wake up to Steve packing his belongings and Sam saying he’d warm the car for you and Steve.

As you gathered your disorientated thoughts and tried to sit up, you noticed that Steve was very much still thoroughly hard inside of your soaked cunt. Silently, you thanked whatever super serum had been injected into him during his time in the army. You clenched at the realisation, and Steve hummed in contentment at realising you were waking up.

“Let’s get you home. Bucky’s waiting there for us”,  Steve informed quietly whilst cupping your cheek tenderly.

With the position you’d been sitting in, your legs were sore and tense, but Steve was more than happy to carry you down, even with his cock still inside. However, with the movements of his steps, it caused his length to ease in and out of your already sensitive cunt that by the time you’d made it to the car, you were clinging desperately to his shoulders as an orgasm rushed through you, pulsing between your legs.

Steve’s knees nearly buckled as he rested your frame against the side of the car, his face dropping to your neck as he breathed you in deeply. Your cunt continued to clench around his cock until he, too, joined you in euphoria with a deep grunt and a snap of his hips; warmth flooded your hole and began dripping out and onto the floor. Neither of you or his employees batted an eyelid as both of you came. 

Once in the car, you were so distracted with cleaning each other up that the idiots in other vehicles that had panicked you on the way in, didn’t remotely phase you.

Wishing Sam a good night, you and Steve walked up to your front door, hand in hand. Steve opened the front door for you, letting you walk into the living room first, where you abruptly stopped, causing the blonde to nearly knock into you.

“I promise I tried to stop him, but he’s a feral little beast!” Bucky exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by something that could only be described as chaos.

It seemed all of the decorative pillows had been utterly destroyed as the contents of the fluff covered all of the surfaces. Not only this, but there were half-eaten shoes, and the corners of the couches and coffee table seemed to have tiny bite marks gnawed into them.

“Bucky?! What did you do?” You couldn’t even comprehend where the mess began and ended as you looked at your dishevelled boyfriend sitting on the floor. Well, he was more lying down, reaching beneath one of the couches as he began to sit up and plastered a wide, toothy grin towards you.

“Surprise!” Bucky shouts with exhausted joy as Steve sighs with a shaky laugh from behind you.

“Surprise? What kind of a surprise is my home being destroyed?” you say, gobsmacked, staring longingly at your favourite cushions ripped to shreds.

As Bucky opened his mouth to explain, a tiny yap sounded from beneath the furniture where he’d just been reaching, and suddenly, a bundle of black fur was pounding for your ankles. It took you a second to drop to your knees and gasp, reaching for the puppy.

“Careful! His teeth are viscous”, Bucky warns, trying to reach forward to grab the animal, but you beat him to it and pull the pup into your lap.

“Oh my god, look at you! Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing! Was it you that destroyed my lovely cushions? It was, wasn’t it? That’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you for everything. You're just so damn cute!” you couldn’t help but talk in a childishly high voice as you spoke to the adorable little puppy.

Thankfully, he didn’t bite you with his tiny sharp teeth and instead rolled onto his back on your legs, his paws resting in the air as he waited for a belly rub you happily gave him with carefully placed head kisses.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a new guard dog! And what happened to the rule of not letting them into the house?” you asked Bucky as you continued to pet the pup.

Steve squatted down next to you, reaching to stroke the puppy behind his ears but then quickly retreating as the tiny sharp teeth nearly nipped his fingers. “He’s not going to be a guard dog; he’s going to be your dog”.

Your head spun with how fast you looked between your boyfriends as you screamed, “What?!”

“Yep! He’s all yours. He’s a Rottweiler and is eight weeks old. They’re known to be a protective breed and great guard dogs, so we will have him properly trained a couple of times a week for this, but we also want him to be yours”. As Bucky explained he knelt closer which earned the attention of your new puppy who watched him closely but continued to lick your fingers in between as you scratched the top of his head.

Steve rested a firm hand on your lower back as he continued, “We know how difficult today is, even with our reassurance that you are safe from Enzo”. Even just hearing his name, your whole body tightens and locks, almost forgetting to breathe until a certain puppy begins to wiggle and try and jump up your body to attempt to lick your face, having noticed the change in demeanour. “We wanted there to be someone around for you all the time, just with the chance that you could still feel safe if Bucky or I weren’t by your side. So, we are hoping this little rascal will be able to do this”, Steve says playfully, stroking along the puppy's back but quickly withdrawing when he nearly nipped again.

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin with telling you how amazing this gift is”, you say brightly, glancing between the two men you loved most in the world.

“Don’t thank us; it’s the least we could do”, Steve mutters whilst leaning in to kiss your cheek and then standing up, beginning to grab handfuls of fluff from all the surfaces with an attempt at cleaning up the mess.

“I just want you to be happy”, Bucky whispers whilst kissing your other cheek, but then his gaze moves to the puppy, and a line forms between his brows as he frowns. “There will be some ground rules, though. No dog on the couch or in bed. We need boundaries”.

You nod your head in understanding but lean closer to whisper to the pup loud enough that Steve and Bucky could still hear. “Don’t listen to the grumpy old man. You can stay wherever you’d like!”

Bucky sighs whilst rolling his eyes and begins to help Steve with cleaning.

The three of you were sat in front of the TV watching a late-night film. The four of you were sitting on the couch as the puppy was resting in your lap, exhausted from all the playing you’d been doing and now resting as you tried to think of a name for the little guy.

“What about Winchester? That’s a good dog name, right?” you ask the boys, but mostly the dog, hoping he would react to one of the suggestions, but he hasn’t succeeded so far. You pondered some more whilst petting his little black ears. “Oh, what about Sargeant?! No… what about Rogers? No…”. You gave up trying to think of a name off the top of your head and began to scroll for suggestions online.

“Max? Brutus? Thor? Um, nope, these aren’t good. Chase? Ari? Bullet? Dodger? Bli-” Your suggestions stop as the puppy’s head tilts to look at you, seeming more awake. “What is it? Is it one of the names? Ari?” No response, “Bullet?” still no response. “Dodger?” his precious little tail began to wag as he yapped.

“Dodger? You like that name?” he barked again, attempting to climb higher up your body to lick your face as you laughed fondly.

“Dodger it is”, Steve announced from your side with a smile.

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[shoyudon]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏 .ᐟ

starring. gojo satoru x fem! reader

heads up. gojo being clingy + sick

note. starting off brand new and fresh, whew. anyways, first post on the blog, yay! i've seen on tiktok that people commented that boys get 100x more dramatic when they get sick, so here's gojo being sick.

gojo is childish. there was no denying that — but sick gojo? times two, or maybe times three? deemed as the strongest sorcerer, he's had his fair share of getting injured, hurt, or even life threatening injuries. and he still ends up staying strong for the sake of everyone.

yet, here he was, all bundled and tucked in. a wet and cold teal colored towel sleeping on his forehead as he sniffled loudly, "satoru, how many times do i have to tell you to let it out? don't sniffle it — you'll hurt your head."

"baby," he whines out hoarsely, "i can't. your boyfriend is dying. i don't think i can do this any longer."

you rolled your eyes, a huff escaping your throat, "satoru, you're being dramatic aga—" before you could finish your statement, gojo grabbed your hand, squeezing it.

"i'm dying, i love you — i'm going to miss you."

this prompted you to crack a small smile, raising a brow as you squeezed his hand back slightly, "you're not dying, it's just a fever! you've gotten worse wounds, 'toru."

gojo cried out softly, phlegm coughed out of his throat, leaving him whining and squirming uncomfortably on the bed. he shrugs off the towel that has now gone warm because of his temperature, "i need love and affection, please cuddle me."

"no, what you need is sleep and rest."

"cuddle me to sleep, i can't sleep without your cuddles and you know it," he childishly tantrums, slamming his fist to the mattress weakly, "please? or i'm going to hold my breath, no joke, baby."

scoffing, you replied, "have you tried counting sheep?" it was meant to be sarcastic.

a strained whine yet again came from him, "baby, do you not love me anymore? counting sheep is a myth, it doesn't work. only your cuddles do," he opened his arms widely, waiting for you to fall into them.

"you're sick. i could get sick," you flick his forehead, "that's why — rest and then get better, you can get the cuddles after you recover."

gojo gasps out dramatically, "the least you could do is give me a smooch on the forehead, that'll make me feel a bit better, i guarantee," he serenades.

despite how dramatic he is, you still gave in to his words. with a light laugh, you leaned in; pressing your lips onto his warm forehead — and then to the tip of his nose, "there, two kisses. feel better soon, yeah?"

he sighs out in content, "this is so much better than counting sheep. can i have another one, on my lips?"

"go to sleep."

gojo narrows his eyes, "whatever happened to i love you?" he positioned himself so that his back was facing you instead, "i knew it, you don't love me anymore."

you grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back to face you — brushing his white locks back with your fingers, you smiled down at him, "i love you, satoru. get well soon, baby."

he beams out happily, leaning into your touch like a happy puppy, "i love you most!"

© shoyudon 2024 . no copies or reposting allowed !

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream. 

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed. 

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand. 

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted. 

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye. 

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb." 

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?" 

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart." 

She smiles more. 

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says. 

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'" 

"I'm so 'mart." 

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft." 

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost. 

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. 

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly. 

"Love you," she says back. 

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you? 

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go. 

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach. 

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before. 

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition. 

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair. 

“June,” he mumbles. 

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says. 

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger. 

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her. 

"You know who you look like?" he asks her. 

She shakes her head. His face lights up. 

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby." 

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "Come here." 

"What?" 

"Just come here. Lie down." 

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?" 

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired. 

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible." 

"I'm impossible?" 

"You're impossible," he promises. 

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth. 

"I can't believe you're real." 

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck. 

"Do I look bad?" he asks. 

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you. 

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over. 

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks. 

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't. 

"Junie?" he asks. 

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce. 

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?" 

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head. 

"Mom's dying." 

"Eddie." 

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast." 

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night." 

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says. 

You glare. "You are not exempt." 

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?" 

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back." 

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose. 

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing. 

"Don't know what you mean."  

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome. 

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?" 

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap. 

"I wasn't serious." 

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."  

She only smiles. 

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face. 

"Sorry," you say. 

"For what?" 

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three. 

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours. 

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging. 

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?" 

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again. 

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching. 

"Oh, shit," you say. 

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug. 

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases. 

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me." 

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look. 

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?" 

It sounds clunky in his mouth. 

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely. 

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again." 

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you. 

"What? I brushed my teeth." 

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention. 

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes. 

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating. 

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval. 

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise." 

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways." 

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box. 

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head. 

"This is positive reinforcement." 

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot. 

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?" 

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup. 

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand. 

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome." 

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?" 

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but. 

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes." 

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance. 

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things." 

"Of course not." 

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble." 

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally. 

"Do I look stupid?" he asks. 

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy. 

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean." 

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you." 

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected. 

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too." 

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be. 

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio." 

"They did not." 

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches. 

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you." 

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding. 

"I'm not going to get her pregnant." 

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby. 

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?" 

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested." 

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw. 

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?" 

Eddie makes himself scoff. 

"Yeah, you should've." 

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school." 

"You had to get that one in there." 

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same. 

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers. 

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks. 

"You never did either." 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers. 

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though." 

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening. 

"Thank you." 

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement. 

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back. 

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–" 

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you. 

"I think I can deal with it." 

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face. 

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter. 

"She's in the bedroom." 

"What for?" 

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse." 

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too. 

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

"What?" 

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?" 

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you." 

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?" 

"'Course not… Are they working?" 

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?" 

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you." 

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference. 

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?" 

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door. 

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you. 

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time. 

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too." 

"See you," she says, patting his neck. 

"How do I look? Handsome?" 

She tangles her fingers in his hair. 

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?" 

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you." 

"Duh, but does he like me?" 

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you." 

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?" 

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man." 

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?" 

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him. 

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt. 

He drops his head into yours. 

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly. 

"What, today?" 

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?" 

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it. 

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out." 

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?" 

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months. 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im." 

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry. 

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking." 

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn." 

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers." 

"You better be helping her." 

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you." 

"What time am I expected?" 

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?" 

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef. 

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit." 

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–" 

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget." 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook. 

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show. 

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug. 

"Can I get some of that?" 

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology. 

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead. 

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is." 

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight. 

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to." 

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it." 

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to." 

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders. 

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight." 

You still don't budge. 

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles." 

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby. 

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you. 

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly. 

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me." 

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him. 

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up. 

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"  

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave. 

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek. 

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third. 

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear. 

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love. 

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet. 

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand. 

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing. 

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold.  "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?" 

"Okay. What's for treats?" 

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?" 

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying. 

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes. 

"Hey, bub, look at you!" 

"She has something to ask you." 

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?" 

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…" 

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats." 

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling. 

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake." 

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh." 

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise. 

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh. 

"'This' is killer," Eddie says. 

"No, but can you see the bleach?" 

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."  

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response. 

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it." 

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese. 

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you. 

"It's fine. You want me to answer?" 

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling. 

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket. 

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door. 

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse. 

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes. 

He nods. Looking good. 

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her. 

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up. 

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way. 

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice. 

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you." 

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie." 

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'? 

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out. 

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway. 

"Can I stay over?" 

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home." 

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip. 

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing. 

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way. 

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly. 

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out. 

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone. 

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her." 

"What? You've never told me that." 

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back. 

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here." 

You groan, "No, this is fine." 

"Sit on my lap, loser." 

"I'm heavy." 

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips. 

Your eyes are bright in the lighting. 

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb. 

"I can see why you're so kind," you say. 

You smile at each other. 

"I don't know what I did." 

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs. 

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life." 

"A past life," he repeats. 

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair. 

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out. 

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life. 

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face. 

You lean in for a kiss. 

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention. 

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever. 

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps. 

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like. 

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it. 

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his. 

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…" 

"What?" you ask. 

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing. 

Movement. Little feet. 

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist. 

You press your arm to his. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head. 

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips. 

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze. 

"Bed?" he asks. 

You slouch down. "In a minute?" 

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure. 

"Whatever you want." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

[xxblairexxss]

Go to sleep

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst, fluff (?)

I cried a few times writing this. 😔 not proofread yet!

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles, are you off already?"

"Yeah! See you!" Charles sprinted off, passing through the crowd of people with Joris behind, hands full of his stuff.

No one asked any further questions. They knew where he was heading and why he was always in a rush. Every time the weekend at the Monaco Grand Prix came to an end, they would always find him rushing his way back wearing the brightest smile on his face.

He was off to see you.

"Hey, angel!" Charles’s hand held yours as he took a seat by your side of the bed. You looked beautiful. You always did.

Even with those tubes and drains.

"Hey, love. How was it? I’m sorry I missed it again. I was so sleepy."

He held your other hand so you would stop rubbing your eyes. His thumb stroked the back of your hand as he kissed it every now and again.

"It’s okay, angel. I got P3." His grin went wide when you gasped and shrieked with delight.

"Really?! Oh my God, you did it!"

"Yeah! I did it. Have you eaten?" He stroked your cheeks while you shook your head at the question.

"I haven’t. I was waiting for you to feed me." You muttered, making him smile again.

"Guess what I bought." He dipped his hand in his little bag and brought cups of different fruits. They were still cold, as he had asked Joris to keep them refrigerated before he came to see you. "Your favourite!"

"Fruit salad! I knew it!" You exclaimed and sat up with his help. "Can you feed me? I want to start with the—”

"Strawberries? You got it, baby."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"See you, Charles!"

"Bye guys!" Charles waved to the group of engineers and dashed his way again, followed by Joris. He was off early again. He never stayed too long during the Monaco Grand Prix.

"Angel?"

You were sound asleep when he walked in. He always loved to see you sleep. It made him gratified that it was one of the few moments where you looked so peaceful. Like you weren’t hurting. You still looked beautiful,

even when you had lost so much weight, making the bone on your face look much more prominent.

"Charles?"

He put his phone aside when you woke up. It had been a few hours since he came by, and it was his first time hearing your voice today. It made him smile again. "Yeah? Are you okay, angel?"

"I’m fine. How was it? I fell asleep again. I’m so sorry."

He leaned in and brushed his nose against yours, making you giggle. "It’s okay, baby. I got P2."

"Really?! Oh my god, yay!" You squealed again, making him laugh as he bent down so you could hug him.

"P1 next year?"

"P1 next year, baby." He gave a nod and brushed his lips on your forehead. It felt warm to touch, and he knew your fever was back. "Do you feel like eating?"

"Can you feed me? Do you bring my favourite?"

Charles took out a jar of strawberry pudding, making you chuckle. "I never forgot, baby." He helped you sit up. You felt lighter—way lighter than before. Your hands were hot to touch too.

"It’s so good! Give it a try, love!" You took the pudding and spoon from his hand and scooped some of it. "Say ah!"

He chuckled, mouth wide open, to get a taste of it. "Oh, it’s a little too sweet, isn’t it?"

"I like it sweet!" You commented, taking another spoon into your mouth. "It’s so good!"

"How do you make this? Isn’t it easy to make?" He took out his phone and snapped a few pictures of you with the strawberry pudding in hand. "Adorable." He beamed and pinched your nose, making you laugh.

"I think it’s pretty easy to make. I used to do it back then, every time I craved it. Maybe one day you can bring me the one you make."

“Ask, and you shall get, angel. I’ll learn the recipe right away." He brushed his finger off the corner of your mouth as you took another spoonful of it.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

The Monaco Grand Prix was one week away when he got a call from your parents, which made him travel all the way back to Monaco from Maranello.

"She’s not feeling well. She’s getting worse, Charles."

Charles barged into the room, and you were lying on the bed. You looked so pale, with all your skin and bones, that it made you look so fragile to touch. Your skin was still warm. Too warm. Your eyes were barely open, but you still extended your hand for him to hold when he walked in.

"Hi, baby." He leaned in and gave you lingering kisses on your forehead.

"Charles, I’m so sleepy."

"It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. You can go to sleep now." He didn’t pull away this time. He stayed in your arms, feeling the soft touch of your arms around his back. "It’s okay." He whispered.

"I don’t think I could stay awake any longer."

"You have been so strong, angel. So strong." He replied, feeling his throat closing up.

"I just want to go to sleep." Your words became a mumble against his neck.

"Go to sleep, baby. It’s alright."

"But I’m scared. Charles, I’m so scared. I don’t want to be alone." He felt your hand on his back tremble as you sobbed in his arms.

"It’s alright, baby. I’m right here. I promise. I’m not going anywhere." He whispered, leaning his cheek against the temple of your head.

"I will always be..." You winced and took a sharp breath. He felt your grip on his back tighten with every breath you took. "I will always be so proud of you. I love you, Charles."

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you so, so much, angel. You can rest now. Thank you for being so strong, Y/N."

You giggled when his nose brushed against yours again.

And that was the last giggle he heard from you before your arms fell on your side. Your chest stopped moving, and you looked like you were sound asleep, except this time you wouldn’t have to wake up to the pain anymore.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Charles, wanna head home?" Joris peeked his head inside the driver’s room. Charles was done with his interviews and press conferences hours ago, but he stayed in his room.

He no longer had to rush back.

"Yeah, sure." He gave a soft smile and walked out with his small backpack. The one he always used to keep your favourite foods before he paid you a visit.

"Joris?"

"Yeah?" Joris stopped in his tracks and turned to see Charles handing him clear glass pudding jar.

"Do you want to try this strawberry pudding?" He rubbed the back of his neck and let out an awkward chuckle. "I made it myself."

"I love pudding!" Joris commented, dipping the spoon into the jar and feeding himself a spoonful of it. "Oh! It’s sweet! Perfect for me.”

"Yeah, it’s a little too sweet for me, but some people liked it this way." He trailed behind Joris while fiddling with the letter bracelet with your name on it that the fan had given to him earlier.

“Oh, I never get to say this earlier but congratulations on the podium this year, Charles. I bet she’s so proud of you.” Joris waited for his friend to walk by his side and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I promised her the podium this year, Joris. It will be selfish of me to ask her to hold on any longer when she was so tired of staying awake.

And I don’t think I’ll ever want her to ever go to sleep, if she could stay here with me for every podium to come.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[redroomreflections]

Guide Me

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Gentle Hands One Shot

Summary: Natasha is going away on a mission and she wants R to think of her while she's away.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI

note: I wrote this entirely for myself. There's fluff in here too.

w/c: 3.6k

Natasha sat quietly on the couch, her eyes drawn to the scene unfolding in front of her. You were kneeling in front of her, your arms stretched out, your eyes and face reflecting the huge smile you had as you encouraged Brynn to walk.

"Come on, Bubs, come to me," You said. "Come to Mommy."

Brynn was clinging tightly to Natasha's knees, her own tiny, chubby legs wobbling. She gave a little squeal of excitement, almost as if to say "I'm nervous", her determination both endearing and fierce.

"Go to your Mommy," Natasha coaxed, "you can do it, kotik."

Brynn seemed to be encouraged by Natasha's voice, patting her leg before reaching out a hand towards you. Your excitement was palpable, Natasha could feel it radiating off of you, and she was sure Brynn could sense it, too.

"Yeah, that's it, Brynnie," You continued. "I'm right here. I'll catch you."

And then Brynn took her first, tiny, tentative step, the biggest smile on her face.

"Nat," You whispered, looking up at her. "She's walking."

Natasha laughed, her heart filling with happiness, the moment seemingly frozen in time. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, as Brynn navigated the cool hardwood floors. You were only a few feet away from her.

And then Brynn wobbled and fell forward into your arms. There was a moment of quiet cheering as you hugged her to you.

"Good job, baby," You praised. "Kaia, guess what? Your sister just walked to me." You informed your almost three-year-old of her baby sister's milestone.

Kaia giggled, clapping her hands together in delight. "Yay, Brynnie."

Natasha chuckled. Kaia was so like you in many ways. Almost a mini clone. Even down to the dance you two performed in celebration of Brynn's first steps. The baby giggled loudly as you twirled her, blowing raspberries on whatever body part of hers you could reach, as you danced around the living room.

"My turn," Natasha said. "I want to dance with my baby." She stood, holding out her arms in anticipation.

You carefully passed Brynn over, who clung to Natasha.

"Mama," She said.

"Hi, my love." Natasha smiled widely. "I'm so proud of you."

Brynn grinned, reaching for Natasha's hair, and tugging on it gently.

"Ouch, kotik, " Natasha laughed. "That hurts."

Brynn looked concerned, pulling back to look at Natasha.

"No, no, it's okay, sweetheart." Natasha smiled softly, bouncing the baby on her hip. "Just a little tug. But never mind that, you walked." She leaned in, giving Brynn a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek.

Brynn giggled, squirming in Natasha's arms, before laying her head on her shoulder.

"I think she's tired," You said as you scooped Kaia into your arms to twirl her around. "It is almost bedtime." Natasha's heart warmed at the sight. She couldn't believe you were the woman she had once only wanted to protect—a woman who had been through so much, who had needed space to heal. Back then, Natasha hadn't imagined your friendship could turn into anything more. She hadn't let herself imagine it. Sure, she'd found you beautiful—who wouldn't? There had always been a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, even on the days when your world felt like it was crumbling around you.

But this? A life with you, with Brynn and Kaia? That had seemed like a dream she didn’t know she was allowed to have. And now, Natasha had it. She had all of you.

"You should get them ready for bed, Nat," You said, as Kaia wrapped her arms around your neck, clinging like she always did when bedtime rolled around.

"But, Mama, I want to play with Brynn," Kaia whined, her voice laced with the beginnings of a pout.

"I'm sorry, Solnyshko, but you need to sleep. Come on, kiss Mama goodnight," Natasha said, and Kaia sighed but pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek. "We'll play tomorrow. You have school, remember?"

"I hate school," Kaia grumbled.

"No, you don't," Natasha chuckled.

"Do so."

"Kaia," You warned, and Kaia stuck out her bottom lip.

"Fine," she grumbled, though there was a softness in her voice now. "But you have to promise two songs before bed." Her eyes gleamed as she stared over at Natasha, knowing exactly how to tug at her heartstrings.

Natasha feigned reluctance, though the smile on her face betrayed her. She held out her pinkie finger to Kaia. "I promise," she said, locking their pinkies together with a gentle squeeze.

"And you have to sing them, not play the music."

"Kaia," You sighed.

"Okay, fine." Natasha laughed.

"You're the best, Mama," Kaia cheered, stretching in your arms to kiss Natasha's cheek and then leaning over to give Brynn one, too.

"How sweet," You murmured, watching them with a smile. Kaia’s pout disappeared instantly, replaced with a satisfied grin as she slipped out of your arms and shuffled toward the bedroom. "I'll catch up on dishes while you handle these two." You offered.

"You've done enough already," Natasha insisted. "I can wash the dishes."

"It's alright, I'll get them," You replied, brushing off her protest. "Besides, I want us to have tonight together before bed."

"I'll put Brynn to bed, and then I'll meet you in the bedroom," Natasha decided, and you nodded, making your way into the kitchen. Natasha watched you go, unable to help the smile that came to her lips. God, she loved you.

By the time Natasha stepped out of Brynn’s nursery, the house was quiet—save for the soft clinking of dishes being washed in the kitchen. She had promised herself she would come to bed after putting the kids down, but when she saw you moving around the house, still tidying up, she paused in the hallway. You had already done so much—cleaning up the toys in the living room, starting another load of laundry, and now finishing up the dishes that she had insisted on taking care of herself.

Natasha leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. There was something peaceful about the way you moved, even in the mundane tasks. She loved how you always wanted to keep the home you had together running smoothly, even when you were tired. But it also made her heart ache a little. You did so much, often more than you needed to, always giving, always caring.

Quietly, Natasha made her way over to you, her footsteps soft on the kitchen floor. You didn’t hear her at first, too focused on rinsing the last of the plates, but the warmth of her presence behind you made you pause.

"You’ve done enough for tonight," Natasha murmured, slipping her arms around your waist from behind and resting her chin on your shoulder. "I thought we agreed we'd have time together."

"I was just cleaning up." You shrugged, letting the water from the faucet run over your hands for a moment. "You were busy with the kids. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Natasha said gently. "You do so much, and I appreciate everything, but I want you to relax."

"I'm used to taking care of things, Nat."

"I know," Natasha replied. "And I love that you are."

"I don't mind," You said, turning off the water and leaning back against her.

"But I do," Natasha replied. "Let me take care of you for once."

"Natasha," You sighed, but Natasha was already tugging you away from the sink. You turned into her arms, closing your eyes in pure delight when she kissed your lips. Her kiss was soft and slow, making your heart race. When you pulled away, your smile was wide, your cheeks a bit flushed, and Natasha thought you looked absolutely beautiful.

"I love you," She whispered, pulling you closer and brushing her nose against yours. "You mean so much to me. I wish I could show you how much."

"You do, Nat. More than you know." You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss her again, a little harder this time, your teeth grazing her bottom lip. "Though I do love how affectionate you're being, why do I get the sense you're about to tell me bad news?"

"I don't think it's bad, necessarily." Natasha shrugged even as her hands continued to roam your waist. Lovingly, of course, no ulterior motives there. "It's just, I got an assignment."

"Oh," You said, your expression falling.

"I leave in two days," She explained.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Three weeks."

"And you won't tell me where?" You guessed.

"I can't," Natasha said. "It's a matter of national security."

"I understand." You nodded.

"But," Natasha added, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. "When I get back, I'm not leaving the country for a long time."

"Is that a promise?" You teased, even though your chest was heavy with worry.

"That's a promise," Natasha replied, leaning in to kiss you again.

"How are you going to break it to the girls?" You asked. "You know Kaia has hard drop-offs at school whenever you leave."

"I have some ideas," Natasha said, "I'll have Wanda and Pepper take turns visiting. They can keep Kaia and Brynn distracted."

"Okay," You replied.

"Hey," Natasha whispered, her eyes searching yours with that intensity she always had when she needed you to feel her presence, her sincerity. Her thumb gently stroked your cheek as she leaned in closer. "I know it's hard. Believe me, I hate leaving you and the girls. But I'll come back. Always."

You swallowed, your heart feeling heavier despite her soft reassurances. It wasn’t just about her leaving for the mission—it was the way Kaia would cry at drop-offs, the way Brynn would ask for “Mama” with big, confused eyes, not understanding why Natasha wasn’t there. And as much as you tried to be strong for them, there was always a part of you that felt empty when she was gone.

"I know you will," you whispered, forcing a small smile. "It's just... three weeks is a long time."

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, before her lips brush your temple. "I’ll make it up to you," she murmured, her voice low, comforting. "To all of you. When I get back, it’s just us. I’ll take a break—no missions, no assignments. We'll do whatever you want. I’ll even take Kaia to her soccer shots classes every week."

You laughed softly at the last part, shaking your head. "She loves those."

"I know," Natasha smirked. "But she's getting a little better at kicking the ball, and I'd like to see it."

You could hear the truth in her voice, feel it in the way she held you like she never wanted to let go. But the reality of her job was always there, lurking in the background, pulling her away when you needed her most. Still, you nodded, trying to push the worry aside, even if only for tonight.

"Okay," you said softly, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. "But you’re the one telling Kaia in the morning. I’m not dealing with that meltdown alone."

Natasha chuckled, holding you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Deal."

You held her tightly, breathing her in, committing this moment to memory, knowing that no matter how much she assured you that she'd be back, there would always be a part of you that was worried she wouldn't.

"I'm going to miss you," Natasha began, her voice soft and laced with sincerity. She kissed your lips again. An apology.

"I'm going to miss you too," you replied, your heart aching at the thought of her being away. "More than you know."

"I'll call every day," she promised, her hands tracking your back under your shirt. "Or as much as I can."

"I'd like that," you replied, kissing her once more.

"It'll go by fast," Natasha said. "Before you know it, I'll be back home with you, and we'll finally have a few weeks to ourselves."

"It's hard for me when you leave," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your side of the bed gets cold. I don't have anyone there to hold me. To kiss me." You're laying it on thick. "It's hard not having someone there to—"

"Stop it," Natasha said, and you smirked, pulling back slightly to look at her.

"Stop what?" You asked, playing innocent.

"You're not being very subtle. If you're trying to make me change my mind about leaving, it won't work. But the other part..." Natasha grinned. "You have ways to care for yourself while I'm gone."

"I know," you said, your tone softening, a smile creeping onto your lips. "but..."

"But what?" Natasha inquired. "Hmm?"

"I've never actually done that,"

"Wait. Really? You've never touched yourself before?"

You shook your head. "Never needed to."

"So you're telling me you're a virgin in that department." Natasha smiled. "This is news to me."

"Nat, don't tease." You pushed her away gently.

"Come here." Natasha pulled you back in. "I'll show you what to do," She promised. "I'll make sure you feel good. Better than good. Amazing. The best orgasm of your life."

"You make big promises," You raised a brow.

"You've had better?" She scoffed.

"No," You shook your head. "I've just never felt the need or the desire to do it."

"So you have no idea what to do?" Natasha questioned, and you nodded, a little shyly. "What is it, baby?" She asked, tipping your chin up gently, so you were looking into her eyes. "Don't be shy."

"I just—I've always been a little repressed with sex," You explained, avoiding her gaze. "I mean we've talked about it before. I'm a woman with two kids. I'm no virgin Mary. There's still so much I haven't explored and I can't help but think how inexperienced I am."

"Hey, look at me," Natasha said softly, cupping your cheek. "There's no rush to explore everything at once, but I'll be more than happy to guide you. In fact, I'm honored."

"You're sweet," You whispered, and Natasha smiled.

"Come on," She said, pulling you towards the bedroom. She closed the door behind th both of you and got to work setting up pillows and a small area in front of the six-foot mirror you'd insisted on having in here.

"Now, I'm not saying it's going to happen right away," Natasha began, pulling you into her arms and peppering kisses on your neck. "But if you'd like me to teach you the ropes, I'd be more than happy to."

"I'd say yes to anything you offer," You whispered to her as you sat in front of her. She instructed you to take your pants off while she did the busy work of unbuttoning your blouse.

"Are you comfortable?" She asked and you nodded, pulling her closer, craving her body heat and the comfort her touch offered.

"Tell me if you want to stop," Natasha began. She gently coaxed your legs open, admiring the wet spot already forming, as she leaned her head against yours. "You don't know how sexy you are like this."

"In a nursing bra and Wednesday panties even though it's Friday?" You joked.

"Especially in that," Natasha murmured. "You always look so good to me, baby." Natasha kissed your neck.

"Touch me," You whispered.

"We're getting there, beautiful," She promised, her hand sliding up and down your thigh. You sighed, closing your eyes. You knew Natasha would make you feel good, and would make this experience pleasurable and enjoyable. "But tonight you're doing all the work. Just follow my voice." She instructed as she trailed her hands along your body.

"Take off your panties," Natasha whispered, and you obeyed. Your hand hovered over the waistband of your panties, hesitating. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," You admitted, taking a deep breath.

"You're gorgeous, Y/n."

"You make me feel that way."

"Good. Because it's true." She replied, pulling her hands away. "Take your time."

You slowly slid the underwear down your legs, biting your lip nervously.

"I'll start, and then you can take over," Natasha said.

"What are you going to do?" You asked.

"You'll see." She replied. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," You said, nodding, feeling a rush of anticipation run through your body.

She began by stroking your belly, moving to cup your breasts and toy with your nipples.

"Do you like that?"

"Yeah," You nodded.

"How about this?" She murmured, her hands running over your hips. You moaned, arching into her touch.

"Mhmm," You cursed, feeling yourself get wetter.

"What else would you like me to do?"

"Just talk to me, please."

"Talk to you about what, baby?" She whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice," You whimpered.

"I can do that."

Natasha's hands trailed along your inner thighs, her fingertips teasing your folds."I want you to use your fingers, just one," She began. "Feel around for that spot that feels good."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling shy.

"It's okay," Natasha whispered. "I'm right here. Do whatever feels good, baby."

You slid your fingers down between your legs, tentatively over your slit, before you pressed it between your lips. You were familiar with your own anatomy enough to find your clit. Your eyes widened slightly at the pleasure, the intensity, as you rubbed it gently.

You bit your lip, closing your eyes at the immediate pleasure, as you leaned your head back against her shoulder. Having her there as a source of support felt even better.

"Open your eyes, baby," Natasha instructed. "Look in the mirror."

You obeyed, your eyes meeting her's in the reflection.

"That's it, Y/n," Natasha murmured. "See how beautiful you look like this? With your legs spread open for me, your pussy soaking wet and waiting for me. You're perfect, Y/n."

"I want to go inside," You whispered. "Can I?"

"Of course," Natasha whispered. "Put one finger in."

You slowly eased a finger into yourself, whimpering at the sensation.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," You gasped. "But I don't know if it's enough."

"Try adding another," She instructed, and you obliged.

"Ah, fuck," You moaned, arching up into your hand.

"That's it, baby. Feel yourself, feel what you do to yourself," She whispered, her hands still stroking your inner thighs.

"Feels so good," You panted. Natasha used her hand to slow you down.

"Not yet," She kissed the side of your head. "I want you to enjoy this. I want you to think about me. How good I make you feel. Imagine your fingers are mine. Fucking you."

You groaned, the pleasure overwhelming, as you moved slower, taking your fingers in and out.

"Natasha," You whispered.

"Shh," She kissed the side of your head.

"I'm close," You whined.

"I know," She smiled. "But you have to wait."

"But why," You whimpered.

"Because it's better when I say so," She explained. She raised her hand, gently rubbing your breasts, careful not to be too rough. Though you do think about how much you would like it. "You're such a good girl for me."

"Nat," You whined, thrusting faster, as she held you closer.

"You're close, baby," She whispered, her fingers finding your nipples, gently tugging them.

"Please, Natasha, I'm so close."

"Tell me what you want," She demanded.

"Bite me," You tilted your neck for easier access. "Mark me. Please."

Natasha growled as she sunk her teeth into your neck, the pain and pleasure mingling together and making you moan. She sucked on the mark she had made, her hands roaming your body. You could feel your pussy clench around your fingertips.

"Fuck," You cried, your back arching.

"Cum, baby. Come for me," She commanded, and you obeyed, moaning loudly, as your orgasm crashed through your body, your muscles contracting.

"That's it," She soothed, holding you tightly, her hands caressing your sides. "Such a good girl for me."

You collapsed back into her embrace, breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin.

"I don't know how you do that to me." You panted, your voice low and sated.

"Because I love you." She replied, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I love you too," You sighed, leaning back into her arms, as she stroked your hair. "Thank you."

"Of course, baby," She whispered, smiling at the sleepy expression on your face. "I want you to feel good when I'm not home. I want you to make yourself feel good."

"Thank you," You mumbled.

"You haven't taken your fingers out," Natasha pointed out.

"I haven't," You nodded.

"Is it good?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready to go again?"

"Not right now," You shook your head, closing your eyes. "I like being filled."

"Alright," Natasha chuckled.

"Can we just cuddle?"

"We can do whatever you want," Natasha replied. "Though we need to talk about the comment you just made."

"About being filled?" You questioned.

"Yeah," Natasha replied.

"Well, I like the feeling. And I'd like to feel more."

"Oh really," Natasha smirked. "How much more?"

"However much more you're willing to give." You kissed the part of her chin you could reach. "I do not doubt that if possible, I'd be pregnant by now."

"I'd love that," Natasha murmured. "Filling you with my cum and watching it leak out of you. Stretching you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You smiled.

"Very much so," Natasha kissed the top of your head.

"Would you want to be on top or should I?" You asked, opening your eyes.

"You can." Natasha offered.

"But I don't know what I'm doing," You protested.

"Trust me. I'll walk you through it."

"You always do," You sighed. "I'm so glad I met you. The way you love me."

"Me too, baby," Natasha said. "You make me so happy."

"And you make me happy."

[verareids]

nights like these - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer gets back from a rough case and reader comforts him. tags/cws: hurt/comfort, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluffy angst, mention of case involving kids but no details wc: 1008 a/n: Definitely not my favourite fic I've ever written and I haven't written anything in a while but it is my first Spencer fic so yay! Also, I was picturing late season 3/ season 4 Reid but it doesn't really matter. also posted on ao3

When the jet lands in Quantico at 12:47am Spencer is exhausted. After a truly grueling case he couldn’t even bring himself to read on the flight home. He’d just sat staring out the window. Kids. It’s always the cases involving kids that will fuck you up the most. JJ and Morgan have both tried their hand at comforting him and received a concerning lack of response. The rest of the team had been able to get some rest. Spencer hadn’t been so lucky. Every time he’d close his eyes he’d see their faces, hear their screams. Morgan stands up on the other side of the booth and the sudden motion pulls Spencer out of deep thought. He grabs his bag and prepares to get up when Emily shuffles past him, squeezing his shoulder on the way. The team clambers out of the jet and ends up in the bullpen, getting their things in order before they’re able to go home. Spencer walks out though the doors, heading for the elevator when the sound of JJ’s voice brings him to a halt.

“Reid…” JJ steps in front of him. “You heading home?” Spencer stops and stares at her incredulously.

“Yeah?” His tone showing only a hint of irritation. JJ looks back up at him, choosing to brush past his attitude.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her concerned stare feels as though it’s piercing right through him and suddenly he can’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, JJ.” He walks past her towards the elevator, pressing the button when her voice stops him in his tracks again.

“Spencer, just…” JJ’s voice trails off as he turns to look back at her, she tilts her head sympathetically. “I know you don’t want to talk right now but… try to talk to (y/n) at least, don’t bottle it all up.” He forms a tight-lipped smile and nods.

“I will, thanks.” He replies slightly dismissively and turns to step into the elevator as the doors open and shut behind him. 

Spencer walks through the parking lot faster than usual, wanting nothing more than to just get home. Maybe he’d find you waiting for him there, sitting on the couch with a book, or maybe watching a movie. He’d sit down next to you and let you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp, kiss his face, make all of the horrible images fade away. However, when he does get home, there is only silence. The lights are off, save for one lamp you had left on so that it wouldn’t be too dark for him. Spencer hangs his bag on a hook and removes his converse, placing them neatly by the front door. He tries to keep the sound of his footsteps light as he moves to turn off the lamp. 

Once he finally enters the bedroom he finds you there, sleeping ever so peacefully. He lets out a long, shaky sigh, looking over at the digital alarm on the bedside table, 1:40am, of course you’re not still awake. Quiet as he can, he removes his work clothes and gets ready for bed. When he lays down beside you he rolls onto his side to look at your face. All of the emotions he’s worked so hard to hold back over the last few days come flooding back with stinging eyes and a lump in his throat that he can’t force away. He studies your face, your quiet, relaxed form and decides he shouldn’t wake you. You have work in the morning – you both do – and it wouldn’t be wise to disturb your sleep to burden you with his work problems, although he knew it to be much deeper than that. Spencer exhales a shaky breath and resigns to closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. He’s moments away from slipping into unconsciousness when a soft hand delicately brushes the side of his face.

“Spence?” He allows his eyes to flutter open at the sound of your voice and meets your drowsy, half shut eyes – his breath catching in his throat at the sight. When your lips stretch into an adoring smile he notices the stinging feeling in his eyes come back full force. “When did you get back?” You ask while your thumb runs a gentle line under his bottom lip causing him to bite it softly.

“Only five minutes ago.” Spencer replies with a shakiness he doesn’t bother to hope you won’t notice. Nothing ever gets past you. As expected, he watches as a subtle frown takes over your features.

“Bad?” You ask. A simple question, yet his eyes still well up when he nods in response. You don’t ask if he wants to talk about it, you know he doesn’t. “What do you need?’ Your hand moves again, this time to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over his sullen face.

“You.” The way his voice cracks breaks your heart. You pull him into your chest and he rests his head there. When you run your fingers through his hair you feel his strong hands clutching the back of your shirt, pressing your body against his as close as possible. Tears stain your clothing as he breathes shakily against you.

This is the hardest part of Spencer’s job. Over the years he has developed an incredible ability to compartmentalize. He is generally pretty skilled at separating work from personal life. With a job like his you can’t afford to bring it home with you, but even with that mindset, there’s no way to stop it from getting to you occasionally. Nights like these are inevitable. You continue to thread your fingers through his curls as you feel him getting heavier against you as he slowly drifts to sleep. Staring straight up at the ceiling you can only hope that your presence will help keep the nightmares at bay. You whisper comforting words into his ear while you lay silently praying that tomorrow will be kinder to him.

[forlovvers]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ falsies

pair: bf!hyuka x f!reader | genre: fluff | warning(s): none! | wc: 500 | synopsis: in which kai is in a large amount of shock when you take off your fake lashes.

lynne’s notez🗒️: i miss huening kms

do we have to finish this movie?” huening kai yawns tiredly, stretching his long arms out. you glance at the clock sitting above the tv; it was getting kind of late.

“fine, only if we finish it tomorrow.” you say sternly, attempting to make a compromise. it’s apparent your boyfriend doesn’t like the high school musical trilogy as much as you do. huening kai grins and pumps his fist in the air, a quiet “yay!” slipping from his lips.

“you’re so lame,” you say, shaking your head with a small smile. he just shrugs and reaches for the remote, switching the tv off. he then flips off the light and pulls you closer to him, meaning it was time for bed.

instead of putting your head in the crook of his neck, like routine, you break from his grasp and switch the light back on. huening kai blinks at the sudden bright light and frowns when he realizes you’re not in his arms.

“somethin’ wrong?” he says, voice a couple octaves deeper. you can already hear the traces of sleep in his voice and you feel bad for being an unexpected disturbance.

“i have to take off my lashes, kai.”

his shoulders drop in relief and he lets out a small chuckle, “gosh don’t scare me like that.” huening flings himself upwards, and is suddenly wide awake. “can i help?”

and that’s how you’ve found yourself sitting on the bathroom counter, with huening kai staring back at you in horror. “what do you mean to just yank it off!”

“kai— look,” you demonstrate by gently tugging on your left lash until it’s loose and then fully pulling it out. you present the lash strip in the palm of your hand and huening’s jaw drops in terror.

“that doesn’t hurt?” he asks innocently and you can’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s unnecessary concern.

“here,” you take his larger hand in your own and bring it up to your lash line. “pinch your fingers together like this.” you say and he does exactly as told, although hesitant.

“yn, what if i poke your eye out?” huening kai’s free hand flies up to cover his mouth as he gasps at the thought.

“you won’t!” you exclaim, not so convincingly. you really hope he doesn’t poke your eye out.

with the guidance of your hand, huening kai finally manages to separate your real lashes from the fake ones. he immediately lets his head fall onto your shoulders, arms snaking around your waist. “that was so scary, i can’t believe you do that all the time.”

you let out another bubbly laugh, hands reaching up to fluff his hair, “you’re such a dork.”

“only yours.”

[selineram3421]

Petit Lapin Blanc

Part 4

Part 3

Alastor and Human Child Reader

:Platonic:

Warning! ⚠

⚠ nodding head = yes, ✨magic✨, all caps for excitement, headache, implied amnesia, mention of medicine, repeated word "Hop". ⚠

You sat on a big stool, watching the winged cat man shuffle the cards in his claws on the counter.

"Ok kid, ready for some magic?", the cat man asks.

Quickly nodding your head, you hold your stuffed toy tightly and focus on the cards.

He spreads the cards out like a fan and asks you to pick one. After pulling out a card, he tells you to memorize it and to not show him, just to remember the card before putting it back.

Three of Hearts, Three of Hearts! You think again and again.

"Ok, I'm gonna shuffle the cards again and find your card.", the cat man says, doing very cool and fancy card shuffles.

"Wow!", you say in awe.

The white haired girl was named Vaggie, she told you to watch the cat man (Husk) do card magic while she talked about boring grown up stuff with Alastor.

They weren't far but you didn't pay that much attention to what they were saying.

Because magic.

"Ok..", the cat man picks up a card and flips it face up on the counter. "Is this your card?"

Looking at the card, you frown. It was NOT your card.

"No."

"Aw man, I thought I got it.", the cat man grumbles and flips over another card. "How 'bout this one?"

It still wasn't your card.

"No."

Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope.

It kept going until all the cards were turned over, and not a single one was your card.

"Where did it go?", the cat man asks and scratches his head confused.

You pout and hide your frown with your white rabbit doll.

"I know!", he grins and reaches over. "Let me check behind your ear."

"Its not there.", you say.

There's a flick behind your ear and you see the card, your card. The Three of Hearts.

"Tada~", the cat man says.

"HOW DID IT GET THERE!?", you shout in surprise.

Alastor walked over and pat your head.

"How did what get where little one?"

"The cat man-!", you looked up and pointed at the cat person who cut in to remind you of his name.

"Husk."

"Husk! Pulled out my card from behind my ear!", you said. "I didn't put it there!"

"Hmm. Interesting indeed.", the man in red said and tapped a finger on his chin. "Maybe it was magic? Vagatha did say that Husker does do card magic."

"Woooah.", you say and look back to the cat man. "Can we do another one?"

"Sure kid.", Husk says and starts shuffling the cards again.

Then you heard a bell ring.

.

You woke up on a couch.

Sitting up, you found a lot of napkins covering you like a blanket. Looking around, you were confused when finding yourself in a waiting room and tried to remember.

Then your head started to hurt.

"Ow!", you cried out and rubbed your forehead.

It really hurt and you wanted medicine.

When getting off of the couch, something caught your eye. It was a stuffed rabbit toy with a bow tied around its neck, making them look fancy.

"You're coming with me."

Now with your new friend, you walked over to a door and opened it. Looking out, you saw it lead to a hallway and decided to explore.

Another door lead to a room with a lot of buttons. Then another with weird looking couches, and another to a bunch of boring file cabinets.

Opening the last door at the end of the hallway, you saw that it was an elevator.

"Ooo.", you said walking in and looked at the buttons. "Hmm.", you hummed in thought, squinting at the numbers.

Then you slid your hand to press all of the buttons.

"Yay."

It was really fun going to all the floors, but then you got bored and pressed the number one to go on the ground level.

Stepping out of the elevator, you saw someone sleeping at the main desk holding a phone.

They are sleeping, so I'll leave quietly so they don't wake up. You thought and made your way outside.

Walking. That's what you did until you were somewhere different. You don't know how, but you were suddenly watching T.V.

A white rabbit was hopping on the black screens.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop-

"Excuse me little one!"

Looking over, you see a red man.

He was kneeling down on one knee. "Could you tell me how you got here?", he asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Kinda had a crap day so this gets a pass. I needed to write something to get my mind off of it.

~Seline, the person.

Part 5

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @stolas-thebirb @c4rved-pumpk1n @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @kiraisastay @i-3at-kidz @+?

🐇ChL | ML for Alastor🎙

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Confessions

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a bit loopy after having your wisdom teeth pulled.

“Sammy,” you whined as you tugged on your big brother’s sleeve. “I don’t wanna get my wisdom teeth pulled! What if it hurts?”

“Honey, they already pulled them,” Sam grinned as he opened the door to the back seat of the Impala and gestured for you to get in.

“Oh,” you frowned. “They did? Did it hurt?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “You were asleep the whole time.”

“Cool,” you giggled as Sam placed his large hand on your head and pushed you down into the car. “No!” Your demeanor changed rapidly when Sam tried to help you with your seat belt. “I don’t want it!”

When Sam persisted, you turned to Dean.

“Dean! Sammy’s being mean to me!”

“You have my permission to punch him as hard as you can,” Dean said.

“Thanks a lot!” Sam glared at Dean, even though your punch to his arm barely hurt.

“It didn’t work!” You whined.

“Ok baby, what’s Sammy doing that’s so mean?”

“He’s trying to make me wear my seatbelt!”

“He’s supposed to do that.”

“Oh,” your struggles suddenly ceased, although you still glared at Sam as he reached over and buckled you in.

“How did you do that?” Sam asked, to which Dean shrugged.

“What are you doing?” Dean wondered as Sam got in the passenger’s seat.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not gonna stay with her?” Dean gestured to you as you pulled your seatbelt out all the way just so you could watch it zip back into place.

“She’s fine.”

“Whoa!” The boys glanced back in unison at your outburst. “We’re moving!”

Dean had just pulled the Impala out of the parking lot, and you peered out the window.

“How is it doing that? That’s so cool!”

“What on earth did they give her, and where can I get some?” Dean chuckled. Then he glanced back at you again, and his expression changed. “Whoa, hey!”

Dean pulled over when he saw your wide-open door, you leaning much too far out of the car.

“Sam, go back and sit with her,” Dean demanded, and Sam was already halfway out when Dean got to a full stop.

“Ok kiddo,” Sam unbuckled your seat belt and scooted you over, coming to sit between you and the door.

“I was looking at the wheels!” You cried. “I wanted to watch us move!”

“How about you watch us move from inside the car, baby?” Dean suggested, and though you huffed in annoyance, you relented, and Dean got back on the road.

“Ow!” Sam cried not two minutes later. “What was that for?”

You tugged again on his hair, and giggled while he frowned at you.

“Your hair is funny!”

“Funny?” Sam grabbed your hand when you tried to reach for his hair again. “Hey, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam’s eyes widened when you began to cry.

“Dude, what did you do?” Dean glanced in the rear view mirror.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, stop doing it!”

“Hey, hey,” Sam soothed. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

You were inconsolable until Dean pulled up at the bunker, the sight of which made you instantly stop crying.

“I know this place!” You said.

“Ok then,” Sam grinned. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Yay!” Sam grunted when you jumped on his back the moment he stepped out of the Impala. “I wanna go to my room!”

Sam carried you inside and deposited you on your bed, placing a hand on your head to stop you when you tried to get up.

“You need to sleep.”

“Awww! But I don’t want to!”

“C’mon Sam, she’s funnier like this,” Dean argued.

“Dude.” Dean relented at Sam’s glare.

“Ok, ok.”

Once Dean left the room, Sam turned to tuck you in.

“Sammy?” You mumbled, your head already drooping.

“Yeah kid?”

“I love you.”

Sam smiled, pushing your head back against the pillow.

“I love you too. Now go to bed.”

“No, I mean I really love you,” you insisted. “You’re nice. And you’re funny. And you’re a good big brother.”

Sam didn’t say anything, he just pressed a kiss to your forehead, smiled down at you, and left the room, turning off the lights behind him.

…

“Dean!”

Dean turned at the sound of your voice echoing down the hall. Sam had left your room not three minutes ago, and Dean had been under the impression that you’d conked right out.

“Yeah baby?” He asked as he opened your door.

“You didn’t give me a good night kiss.”

Dean bit back his laugh when he saw how serious you looked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to stand beside your bed. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, but when he turned to go you grabbed his arm.

“Dean?”

Dean hummed.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you too baby,” he grinned.

“I think you’re cool. You take really good care of me and Sammy, and-and…” you seemed to be losing your train of thought, your eyes unfocused as you blinked. “And I really really love you.”

“I’m gonna have to remind you of this conversation when you go back to normal,” Dean muttered, then he leaned closer to you again, pulling your covers up around you. “Ok kiddo. It’s time to get some rest.”

“M-k…” you were asleep not ten seconds later.

Neither Sam nor Dean ever told each other, or even you, what had been said that day.

But neither of them ever forgot it, either.

[asherthehimbo]

Outliving the stars | Choi San

synopsis: You've always felt a part of you was missing, the desire for something greater only being lessened when you were gazing at the stars. You know you lost something, someone, you just dont remember what, who. Maybe the astrology major your friend sent you on a blind date with has the answers.

Pairing: Choi San x Male!reader

Info: one shot, words(2.1K),

Trope: reincarnation, Immortal x mortal, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, anxiety, topic of death, suggestive jokes, it's said they have sex but no actual smut, injuries, birthmarks shaped like scars, insecurity, self scrutinizing, social anxiety, overthinking, talks of past lives

Song inspo: Burn out the stars - Bryce savage

It was at times like these that you wished you could punch your best friend. Wooyoung was sweet, but you swear he had it out for you, sending you out on a blind date with nothing but a first name. Now you were standing at the planetarium entrance like an idiot waiting for someone you didn't even know.

Wooyoung had pesterd you for three weeks until you finally gave in. He kept trying to set you up with one of his classmates, and you were too tired to register what you were agreeing to. "Come on [Name], you can't keep being hung up on some mystery guy from your dreams. San, on the other hand is perfect, broad shoulders, an astrology major, rich, handsome face, smooth voice and he's kind" Wooyoung rambled on as you were sitting in your dorm, trying to finish the economics paper you had that was due on Friday.

"Do you want me to go out with this guy, or do you want to do so yourself?" You asked him, only receiving a pillow to your face as a response. Sighing, you looked at Wooyoung, who was taking up your entire bed. "If I go on this date, would you let me finish my paper in silence?"

Wooyoung immediately jumped up from the bed. "YES, OKAY YAY!I'm gonna go tell San you agreed! Oh! This is gonna be so much fun! SATURDAY 1PM SHARP, " Wooyoung shouted while jumping around before sharply turning on his heel to sprint out of the room, leaving with a shout of "WEAR THOSE CUTE JEANS I BOUGHT YOU!"

You only sighed, turning back to your paper and relishing in the silence.

You did, in fact, end up wearing the jeans he bought you, black baggy jeans with white stars splattered on them, matched with your red converse, and a red hoodie.

You did not want to be here, it was cold, people were staring (probably because of the scar on your face, a voice in your head told you, you ignored it) and you were craving a strawberry refresher. You guess arriving an hour early wasn't the best course of action, but you were up early, not being able to sleep the night before.

Dreams of your faceless lover had once again plagued your mind. It had been a common occurrence ever since you turned 10. You would be cuddled up in the arms of a man you could not remember, but you knew him. In a soft grass field he would be holding you tightly, you would both be watching the stars, you listening as he points out different constellations, these dreams were safe, they made you feel at ease.

But all too often, these dreams would evolve into nightmares, the same 7 scenes playing out. Your therapist had said it must have been a physiological way to deal with your own insecurities. The birthmarks that littered your skin had always looked like scars. You remember talking to her when you were 12. She said it was your brain trying to justify the marks, trying to create a story for them.

You believed her. After all, she knew better, but these dreams just felt so real, so vivid. You would hear your own heartbeat slow down and hear the cries of your mystery lover as he holds onto you. You could feel the tears dripping from his face onto yours. No matter what turn these nightmares had, they always ended with you dying in his arms.

You guess Wooyoung had been right in his concern, as your best friend he knew first hand the effect these dreams had on you. The nights you wake up gasping for air, vomiting out your dinner, clawing at your neck because something in your throat is burning. The times you're awake while your consciousness is still trapped in whatever nightmare you were experiencing. He had been there since the age of 10, he had been there.

You rubbed together the two sleeves of your hoodie, starting to feel more uncomfortable as time passed by. People were walking past, laughing, and giggling at one another. You wondered what was so funny, what were they all laughing at? Were they laughing at you? no, you didn't do anything funny, did you? oh, it's your face, right? Your face is funny, it's ugly, creepy, the scar covering your eye, one you did not deserve. A mutated freak born with scars that were not earned a fake, a- "[Name]?" A hand on your shoulder disrupts your anxiety fueled thoughts.

You turn around to find a black haired man, he's a little shorter than you, although his shoulders are broad. Jawline sharp, eyes as soft as a warm blanket on a winter's night, despite the intimidating structure of the man, his eyes, his smile, his dimples, he seems inviting, familiar almost.

He stands smiling at you, the arm he used to grab your attention is hovering awkwardly in the air, his cheeks are flushed, a pink matching one of the familiar drinks in his hand. "Umm, I'm San? your date. " he seems unsure of himself, but you find it cute, having to suppress a giggle so as to not make him feel bad.

You give him a small smile as you mentally thank Wooyoung for choosing someone good looking,"Nice to meet you, San." You nod your head at him as you shift your weight between your feet. You're being so awkward right now, but something tells you that San doesn't mind.

Despite your lack of social skills, the interaction itself does not seem awkward. Although you can feel something straining it, you brush it off to first date jitters. "Oh!um I also got us some drinks, Wooyoung said you liked strawberry refreshes, although I don't know if he was messing with me. He has a tendency to do that lately, but um drink?" San asks as he lifts up the hand, holding two drinks questioningly. His shoulders seem to tense as he awaits your reaction.

"Woo didn't lie, I do like Strawberry refreshers, thank you" you nod your head at him, his shoulders relax as he lets out a breath of relief, he picks up the pink drink from the holder in his hand and gives it to you. Your fingers touch for a moment as you take the drink from him and you jump back a little, San doesn't seem all that surprised, but he chuckles "Static electricity's a bitch, huh?"

You don't think that's how it works, but you laugh along nonetheless. It's weird as you walk with San into the planetarium. You don't like new people, don't feel comfortable around them, yet with San, it's different. You feel safe with him. He feels so familiar.

You spend the day following San around the planetarium, he excitedly points out constellations, and you swear the fake stars above your head shine dimmer than the light in Sans eyes. Somewhere along the line, your hand had been intertwined with his, as a precaution to not lose one another, you told yourself.

The date ends when the sky outside matches the one in the planetarium, a dark purple background with little specks of light twinkling above you both. The date lasted the whole day and you were having so much fun you didn't even realize, Wooyoungs gonna kill you for not telling him how everything went immediately but you can't find it in yourself to care about the headache your best friend will inevitably give you tomorrow morning.

That night, you sit on your bed, smiling down at the goodnight text from San, despite him having wished you a goodnight merely a few hours before when he walked you to your dorm. That night is the first night you sleep peacefully, no dreams of your mystery lover, no dieing, no waking up in a cold sweat despite it being winter. Nothing

Instead that night you sleep, cuddled up with the tiny red star plushie that San won for you at one of the planetarium games, you named her 'astéri' the greek word for star. Also, the exact name you put as your contact for the man who won her for you.

Your relationship with San had been a fast development, one date, then two, then you start eating lunch together, he starts walking you to classes, he joins your friends and you on movie nights, he plays games with Yunho. San becomes a part of your life faster than you can imagine, and you don't even care.

It's on your hundred day anniversary, a hundred days of dates and hangouts, and obviously being together despite no official title, that San officially asks you to be his boyfriend.

It's an emotional ordeal. He made a picnic in his backyard, creating a fort where you could both lay down and watch the stars on the soft grass. It's summer now, much hotter than when you first met, you wear a red tank top. San has expressed his love for your collarbones before, and thinking back to the moment makes you blush.

He was a bit tipsy when he blurted it out, face flushed pink given the alcohol of the drinking game he had played with your friends earlier, the room was hot, filled with college boys and liquor, so of course you took off your jacket, San had started cheering, then giggling, talking about how much he liked your neck, your collarbones. You don't know if he remembers this moment, you hope he doesn't, it would save you the embarrassment.

San presents you with a necklace on the night of his confession, a black leather strap threaded through a red star that's rimmed with silver. On the back of the necklace, the name 'astéri' is carved, under it lies numbers which look like coordinates. You don't ask.

San slips the necklace around your neck, fingers trailing dangerously slow along your shoulders. You were scared at first, you liked San, loved him, as much as you trusted him, you were scared of what his reaction would be.

He may have seen you in strappy clothing before, but he's never seen the extent to which your birthmarks your scars cover your body. The worst of them were located on your waist.

Despite your hesitance, the way San looks at you after you agree to be his, after you agree to let him be yours, it makes you want to kiss him, let him embrace every part of you and let you do the same to him.

He looks at you like you yourself were the star and who were you to deny a mortal access to a celestial entity?

That night, you learn the true extent of San's love for you, the way he trails his fingers overy every inch of your skin, extra soft kisses placed on the marks littering your body, he's gentle almost as if he knows the phantom pains they bring you, despite you never having told him.

That night you and San become, you and San, under the stars. On the soft blanket he laid out in his backyard as the warm wind of summer nips at your exposed skin.

It's when you're lying down, breathless, in between San's arms that he starts talking, answering your question from earlier that night. The numbers on the back of the necklace, the coordinates, are of a star San bought in your name. He literally bought you a star and named it 'astéri'.

"You deserve the whole galaxy, and yet I do not have the power to retrieve it for you. This way, you can have a piece of the outer world, and it can have a piece of you"

You don't think you've ever felt so loved in your life. You had fallen for San so quickly, so hard. It's hard to imagine a time when he wasn't in your life, despite the fact that you hadn't known him long, everything with him just felt so right.

You were sure you were meant to be with San in every lifetime, meant to spend every moment of your life with him. When you told him this, it had been the first time you ever saw him cry, genuinely cry. It was as if your words affected him more than you knew. You're sure they did.

That's one thing you never did understand about San, he has told you everything about himself, but you still felt as if something was missing, a piece of information locked away, it was like he was guarding it, scared you would find out. He thought he hid it well, but you prided yourself on knowing people, knowing your boyfriend. You trusted him. He would tell you when he was ready.

You and San would watch the stars burn out together, watch the world fall in each others arms, protected by a love so pure that the only thing left in the universe would be you and San

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @itsvxlentine @liyatime @hetalia-pol @mommahwa1117

Home page | Ateez masterlist

[loveswrites]

Rainy Road Part 2

Rainy Road Part 2 Poly Cullens x Reader

Time it took me: A while can't even lie

Word count: 1501

To anon: There will be a part 3 ofc my loves

Love <3

Cold. Cold was all you felt. It had been 3 months since The Cullens left. From that night on forward you felt like time was paused for you but was still going on for everyone else. The seasons change and the leaves fall. All you can see is that rainy road from that night. Bella was no different. When your mates left, so did hers. You never thought Alice would do something like that to Bella. But then again you never thought any of the Cullens would do something like that to you. Everything went against your better judgment. 

Charlie has tried to get you and Bella to go out more, talk more, eat more. The eating part was more so pointed towards you. When you woke up from that night you felt fine until all your memories came rushing back. When you did you woke up in a hospital. You had hoped and prayed that the doctor that would walk through that door was Carilse. But he never came. He never showed. That broke you more than having a broken arm ever could. You didn’t know what to do. Carilse was only ever concerned about your health. Being the amazing doctor he is. And his love for you only amplified his push for you to stay healthy. 

So you did the only thing you could do. 

You went on a hunger strike. For two weeks straight you wouldn’t eat anything other than the spoonful of food Charlie would practically shove down your throat. He would beg and plead for you to eat something. He didn’t care what it was. You thought starving yourself would bring him back. Would bring them back. It didn’t. No sign of them was ever found. That hurt you more. They really didn’t care. Everything they said was true. Those months you spent loving them, understanding them, caring for them. Meant nothing to them.

You couldn’t sleep most nights, and when you did they were full of nightmares. The hateful words they said to you that night rang through your head. The voices were so loud you’d wake up screaming in terror. This was hard for Charlie. If it wasn't Bellas screams waking up the whole house it was you. No one had gotten a good night's rest since that night and it was really showing. Charlie would get caught falling asleep on the job whenever he was at work, He'd fall asleep mid dinner, etc. That made you feel bad. You couldn't hide your pain even if you tried. You couldn't like and say you were fine. Your eyes tell a thousand truths.. That's something you always told Edward whenever you caught him being closed off.

You could always read him like a book. Not that night though. 

It was late or early in the morning you should say. You wouldn't know you didn't go to sleep last night. You couldn't. You watched the sunrise as much as it could behind the gloomy clouds. The sound of rain hitting your bedroom window brung tears to your eyes. That sound only reminded you what happened that night. But it also let you know that what happened was real. Not just a traumatic nightmare or dream. 

It was the weekend so you were free to do whatever you wanted. Yay, you thought dryly to yourself. A knock coming from your bedroom door  brung you out of your thoughts. As it opened Charlie peeked his head in.

"You alright in here?" He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders in response. You've never been so not alright in your life. Everyone knew that.

"How'd you sleep? I didn't hear anything last night.." Charlie said walking into your room.

"I didn't sleep." Your voice reeked of never ending tears. You felt like an overflowing river. Or more so you felt that you were drowning in that river.

"Oh.." He said. And even looking out the window you knew he was scratching the back of his head.

"Your mom called." He stated.

"Okay." You said plainly as your voice cracked.

"She wants you and Bella to come visit her for a while in-"

"No thanks." You cut him off sitting up to face him but not before wiping the tears off your face. 

"You're not well. You're worse than Bella. You're going. You haven't left your room since I don't even remember when. You're worrying me." Charlie stressed out.

"I- that would make me worse." You said trying to think of something to say other than just kill me.

"You need to go out, have fun like you used to. Seth called his worried about you too he says you guys haven't talked in months. Why don't you hang out with him?" Charlie suggested.

"Sure." That was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Great! I'll tell him you're on your way over." Charlie said before he made his way out of your room. When you heard your door close you sat up.

You were irritated by the events of this whole thing. You didn’t want to go see Seth. You didn’t want to go see anybody. You barely even wanted to look at yourself. You don’t even remember the last time you looked at yourself. The last time you saw Seth was that night.

Everyone told you that Seth was the one who found you that night, you wished he didn’t. You had wished he left you in the middle of that road to die like the family who swerved to avoid hitting you did. No one would let you go see the family or try to go say sorry. You were hysterical. You couldn’t even form a simple sentence to the doctor when they would ask you “Where does it hurt the most?” And all you could do was point to your heart and gasp for air. 

After 10 minutes of laying there in your bed contemplating if this life was really truly worth living you got out of your bed. Walking in the hallway you were faced with Bella who looked as horrible as you felt. She was dressed and she had her bag over her shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” You asked. You don’t hear her leave her room unless Charlie calls you both down for breakfast and dinner. 

“Charlie.” Bella said and that was all it took for you to know that he gave you both the ultimatum. Either get better here or go home with mom.  

“Who he'd make you go see.” You were kinda curious.

“Anyone really, I chose Jessica though.” She spoke softly.

“What about you?” She questioned back.

“Seth.” You both shared a look and both shook your head and parted ways.

The front door closed the same time you closed the bathroom door.

Looking in the mirror for the first time in a long time you couldn’t help but look back and see yourself as a widow. You were never married to your mates but in some way it felt like that was an unspoken marriage to begin with. Sighing you spent a long, much needed hour in the bathroom. And when you walked out you felt like a new woman with a shiny broken heart. You got dressed and after another hour you were off to Seths. 

As you drove the car Carlisle bought you for your birthday you fought yourself to not get lost in your own thoughts. Why didn’t he take the car? They took Bella’s radio but not my car? Maybe that would be something too big to not notice being gone? Before you knew it you were at Seth’s place. No matter how slow you drove you got here too fast in your head. You couldn’t express how much you didn’t want to be here but here you were. Letting out another breath you got out of the car and before you slammed your door shut the door to the cabin opened. 

Turning around you saw Seth walking out with a smile on his face. Giving him a soft smile you closed your car door and walked up to him closing the distance. 

“Hey.” He said smiling.

“Hi Seth.” You said softly. 

“I missed you.” He said pulling you in for a hug. You tensed at the physical affection. He always hugged you when you saw each other. But it seemed all too much today. You found yourself holding back your tears immediately when you hugged him back. He wasn’t who you wanted to hold, to touch.. 

Pulling away after a while you sneezed and quickly wiped your eyes. 

“So what do you wanna do?” you asked. 

“We can watch some movies and order food if you want?” He said.

“Sure I guess that would be fine.” You replied softly. Seth smiled and you both started walking towards the cabin. Your social battery was already on hell. You had no clue how you were going to get through this. 

[icarusredwings]

Does anyone else think about how chill Lucy Saxon is? They were together for about a year before the Doctor showed up.

Imagine you move in with your boyfriend and he does some kinda weird stuff like watches kids cartoons, eats you out of house and home, probably doesn't sleep much, is obsessed with hurting people and some dude named the Doctor and when you ask "Oh in what?"

"Hes not even a real doctor!!"

"...then why dont you call him something else?"

"You wouldn't get it." And he just starts pouting?

Or one of his favorite things to do is sit in a big fancy desk in a full suit and watch shows for 2 year olds with you on his lap but Oh it makes him so happy, and everone has their quirks right? So he cant be THAT bad?

But then you come home the next day and hes trashed the apartment and is rocking in the corner about the voices in his head?? Most people would leave there. But not my girl Lucy, she fr said "Sickness and in health. And you sir. Are very sick. But thats okay. Lets go get snacks and you can yell at the maid to clean it up"

"Yay! And were gonna get ice cream."

"Ooh ice cream :)"

Maybe this is a hot take, but I can see him just grabbing her and kissing her like all the time. Whether someone is around or not, just because he can. Obviously as a power move but eh. Poor thing was always so confused and SUNK into his affection like MAN if you don't start treating your wife right marthas sister is going to STEAL her from you. You big meanie.

I think about how loyal she is to him despite being told about him and shes like "Bitch do i look stupid? I've watched him eat his chicken nuggets with spicy peach jam and have a billion melt downs because he hears stuff other people cant."

I really like the scene where theyre watching that one woman get killed by the toclafane. The one where they keep opening the door and even the master is like "oof that's messy" then hugs her? I dont know. Him genuinely being like 😬 was kinda funny.

I have a headcanon that at some point Lucy admits she's infertile and can't have kids, and being the way he is, the Master is like, "Okay! We'll adopt!" And then the man brings home some murder cyber spheres like "Tada!! Kids!" She just sits and blinks like "What the actual?"

"I got us 6 billion kids!"

"...when I said 6.. I meant the age.. not the number.."

"Oh. Well too late now. Kids go say hi to mommy!"

She just swallows and gets tense like "Oh... hello.."

Not at all saying he didn't mistreat/abuse her (and literally everyone else) a shit ton, and he deserved getting shot so don't think im trying to do that but thinking about how WEIRD this dude must be and she really stuck it out seeing how looney he must have been.

Lucy " Till death do us part mother fucker" Saxon.

We support loyalty in this house. Lucy Darling you did nothing wrong *gentle head kiss* 😌

Master go sit in the fucking corner and think about what you've done. *agressive head kiss* Go on! Get! You very bad boy ☝️🤨