#not joking I didn’t realize it was gonna be this soon

[ohgodthevoices]

hey swaggy author, i would absolutely LOVE if u did a tsukishima fluff + angst 🤭 smtg like the osamu timeskip one with the themes of childhood best friends and development of feelings once they're like older 🙂‍↕️🙏

omg i never wrote for tsukishima and im scared it'll be ooc but here we go ill try my best 😭

Tsukishima kei x reader

tags : fluff , a lil angst , he’s not good with feelings , childhood friends to lovers , gn!reader

you and tsukishima kei had been inseparable since chilhood. you were there when he got his first dinosaur book , sitting cross-legged beside him as he rambled about prehistoric eras with excitement only a kid could muster. he was there when you scaped your knee falling off your bike offering a "don't be dumb next time" as he handed you a band-ai

your friendship was nothing too loud , sitting next to each other on the bus , sharing earphones and bickered over song choices or staying up on call when one couldn't sleep and the other was studying.

but somewhere along the way, somwhere between your first and second year of highschool , something shifted.

it wasn't obvious at first , maybe it was the way his gaze lingered a second longer when you laughed, or how your heart stuttered when he absentmindedly fixed your scarf on a cold day. small, almost imperceptible moments stacking up, like a slow-building crescendo neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

when summer was finally here, your joy was quickly met by confusion when tsukishima started leaving you on read longer than usual, it was the way he stopped comming to your place to pick you up for your weekly saturday morning coffee date , the way you'd see him with yamaguchi after he told you he couldn't go out today, the way he stopped answering you calls when you wanted to give him a haul of what you bought.

you decides to brush it off , ever since the start of your first year , tsukishima has been getting closer to his new volleyball teammates , maybe he had decided to change friendgroups , maybe you weren't enough for him anymore...but then days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and it was already the first day of your second year in highschool

obviously you didn’t know the way he felt about you, that him distancing himself only equaled to his realization of his growing feelings for you. he couldn’t accept it, him liking loving someone ? and that someone had to be you ?? that just couldn’t be good. so the only logical solution to him was to disappear, maybe that way the way he was feeling would disappear too…

but tsukishima only found himself seeking you even more, he was seeking your presence , your unfunny jokes , your stupid smile that he just loved to see , he tried distracting himself with practice and hanging out with his teammates, he thought he’d get used to the feeling of something missing when you weren’t here. but boy was he wrong.

now that second year tsukishima stood in front of you in silence, his arrogance was quickly replaced by vulnerability as soon as he locked eyes with you, his best friend next to him quickly got the notice and left the two of you alone in the school’s empty hallway , he suddenly didn’t assume all those unanswered calls and texts , tsukishima opened and closed his mouth as if looking for the right words “i know i acted like an idiot.” he was gonna put his pride to the side for this, for you.

he told you everything— from the reason to why he ghosted you to how he realized he liked you, and you didn’t say a word until he finished , you had known him for so long yet this was the first time you saw tsukishima nervous, actually expressing how he feels. when he was done , he looked at you with an intense gaze waiting for an answer , anything— but you laughed, not because you were going to reject him but because he looked so out of it. of course he got pretty mad at your reaction but you didn’t reject him.

tsukishima preferred to keep your relationship on the low, he didn’t want it to be private, he wanted people to know you were off limits, but he hates showing off. but that changed over time, he was glad you continued to grow up together.

tsukishima thought it was endearing that the person he played hot wheels with was actually driving a car now, that he went from eating pretend food you made in your play kitchen to actually coming back to you and savoring the nice warm meal you made him.

both your families were over joyed when tsukishima finally agreed to let them know you had been dating for 3 (almost 4) years , your families were already pretty close thanks to your mothers being best friends but now they were even closer, holidays were spent together and dinners that were actually enjoyable were hosted more often.

he’s the type of boyfriend to be very attentive, very teasing, his teasing isn’t as mean as it was back in highshool, but he liked how affective it was on you. he’d tease when you mess up a word and kiss you if you got annoyed. tsukishima’s way of showing his love for you is act of service omg he just does everything for you and if you dare tell him “i could do it myself yk” he will hit you.

he still has the stupid little playlist you made him back in your first year of high school that he listens to when he gets nostalgic or when you argue.

a/n : HEY I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭🙏 i’m catching up on all the requests istg

[raven-dor]

tell me you love me

in which bucky barnes is told some startling news on the phone…

PAIRING: bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x avenger!reader

WARNINGS: miscommunication, nosy roommates, sass, sam wilson teasing peter parker, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

🎶 : two hands - tate mcrae

AN: literally one of my favorite fics i've ever written!! also, this is a Avengers live in the tower AU, no civil war ever occurred, so yay!! ALSO - let me know if you want to be on my taglist!! i'd love to have you!!

It had been out of nowhere. You hadn’t even realized the gravity of the situation until you were met with silence from the other line. 

“What’s for dinner?” His gruff voice had shivers running down your spine.

“I don’t know.” You hummed, the phone tucked between your shoulder and ear as you walked down the grocery store aisles. “What are you craving?” 

“Burgers?” It was more of a question, he was waiting for you to confirm you were also craving said meal. He always did this, waiting for you to decide before he made his decision. It was not missed by you that earlier that week, you’d talked about how badly you craved a classic cheeseburger.

You laughed, the others in the aisle giving you annoyed looks, not that you minded. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Barnes.” 

“Oh?” You could tell he was holding back laughter. “You would think after all that time in HYRDA...” 

“Bucky!” You yelled, this time noticing the looks your fellow shoppers gave you. Whispering, you chuckled to yourself. “Don’t joke about that.” 

“Why not?” He was most certainly frowning. 

“If that’s how you want to cope…” You trailed off, looking at the price tag on the buns, eyes widening at the amount and quickly setting them back down. “You sleep well?” 

“Next to you? Always.” He sounded spirited, much more spirited than he’d been when you left him to go shopping. Good, you told yourself, he was too often found brooding alone, it was nice to hear him so… so mischievous. “You know I do, Doll.” 

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely. “I know. Just wanted to hear you say it.” 

Grabbing the meat from the deli counter, you walked toward the checkout, frowning when you saw that the self-checkout kiosks were out of order. “Babe?” 

He hummed. 

“I’m gonna have to let you go, okay? The kiosks are out of order.” 

He groaned. “Again?”

You nodded as if he could see you. “Unfortunately.” 

“I’ll see you soon, then.” 

“See you soon. I love you.” The peace before the realization had been fleeting, reality hitting you like a truck. Almost instantly, your heart flipped, and your eyes widened.

Bucky had been dead silent, and you secretly hoped your voice had cut out, that the service had saved you, and he hadn’t heard it. 

Not that you didn’t mean it. You’d loved him for longer than you cared to admit, but with his past, you hadn’t wanted to rush anything. You didn’t want him to feel forced. Like right now.

“Buck?” You whispered, eyes welling at his lack of response. “Are you there?” Again, no response. You pushed the red button, hands shaking as the call disconnected.

Shit. 

Which led you to now, racing home without the food you’d promised. When the team had decided to all live in the tower together, they made a pact. If you asked anyone else, it had been more of a forced pact, thanks to Steve. 

Each Avenger would make dinner, alternating every night. Today had been your day, and now not only were you coming home empty-handed, but you were also planning to drop off the face of the Earth, which completely defeated the purpose of your job and its responsibilities. 

It was a wonder, you told yourself as you waited for the elevator doors to open, that Bucky hadn’t been there to meet you in the lobby, waiting for an explanation. Or worse, disgust on his perfect face. 

You kept your head down as you landed on the top floor, all but running to your room. Slamming the door behind you, you ordered Friday to bar everyone from entering.

The computer system spoke back, voice as posh as ever. “Does that include Mr. Barnes?” 

“Yes.” You huffed, heart thumping. “Especially Mr. Barnes.” 

“Has something happened?”

“You could say that.” Checking under your bed, the balcony, the closet, and the bathroom, a sigh of relief left you knowing that Bucky wasn’t already there, hiding.

Everything had been perfect, up until your slip. He asked to take it slow, mainly due to ‘not wanting to disrupt the team dynamic.’ You’d understood, and you’d also understood that he had another reason, one that he wouldn’t speak aloud, but that you both knew. 

He wanted to take it slow and slow did not contain saying ‘I love you’ four months after you started dating. 

A knock rang through your room, breaking you from your thoughts. Looking at the door with fear pumping through your veins, you waited for him to speak. 

“Y/N?” 

You’d almost sighed with relief. Almost. “Yeah?” 

“What’d you end up getting for dinner?” Nat called out. “Wilson’s asking.” 

“I-” Grabbing your wallet, you slid your credit card under the door. “Order whatever you want.” 

“Okay.” Nat sounded curious. “So, what happened?” 

“Why- why would you ask that?” 

“Other than the fact you won’t show your face, and Friday is barricading me from entering?” The super-spy sounded fed up. “What did he do?” 

“He?” Your voice was a mere squeak. 

“Yes, he. Everyone knows you two are dating, don’t act so surprised. It’s my job to know these sorts of things.” 

You glared at the door. “That’s not at all your job, Natasha.” 

“What’s going on?” 

You groaned, shoving your face into your pillow. At this point, the whole team would know your business by dinner. “Go away, Wanda.” 

“What’s happened?” The Sokovian whispered.

“Barnes did something,” Nat muttered. “Won’t say what exactly, but-” 

“Nat!” You yelled, lifting your head. “I can hear you, you know.” 

“Let us in, Y/N.” Wanda sounded as if she was frowning. “What did he do that was so bad-” 

“It wasn’t him.” You sighed. “It- it was me.” 

“What happened?” Wanda’s voice was gentle. “You can tell us.” 

“I really can’t.” You whined. “One second.” Grabbing a piece of paper from your desk, you scribbled down the infamous three words, slipping it under the door. “Shit, Y/L/N. Isn’t that a little soon?” 

Your eyes widened. “What the hell, you two? Why is Sam there?” 

Wanda sounded deeply apologetic. “It’s not just Sam.” 

“I’m here too.” Peter squeaked. 

“Me too.” Tony’s voice sounded much too entertained, and you glared at the door.

“Yeah!” Clint sounded suspiciously high like he was in the vents again. You reminded yourself to reprimand him when the dust cleared. 

“Y/N! Why are you hiding in your room?” Thor’s thunderous voice rang clear over the rest of the supposed crowd that had formed. 

“Thor.” Bruce sounded extremely annoyed. “We’re inside, you don’t need to shout.” 

“Yeah, what the green guy said.” Rhodey’s voice echoed. 

“Go away!” You yelled, sitting against the door. “I-” 

“What’s going on here?” Steve’s voice sounded distant, like he was walking down the hall. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to do what everyone else had done. 

But it never came. 

“Have any of you seen Buck? Last time I saw him, he was on the phone. Haven’t seen him since.” 

You were certain Nat and Tony were smirking. “Why don’t you ask Y/N.” 

“Why? Are they together?” 

Tony sounded like he was holding back tears, not from sadness, but from laughter. “After this? Questionable.” 

“Tony!” You yelled, smacking the door. “Shut up!” 

“Give me that.” Getting off the floor, you looked through the peephole, watching in horror as he read the paper. “Break it up, all of you.” Protests broke out, all of them yelling at Steve. “We’re not talking about this any longer. It’s not our business.” 

“C’mon-” 

Steve glared at the billionaire, and he instantly shut up. “Tony.” 

He raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. What’s for dinner then?” 

“Whatever you want.” You yelled out. “Just use my card.”

Tony shook his head. “After the day you’ve had, it’s my treat.” 

You nodded, a faint smile gracing your lips. “Just leave the food at my door when it gets here.” 

“No.” Steve’s hands were on his hips, and you could see Peter and Wanda holding back laughter. He looked like a concerned father. “You will leave your room and have dinner with the rest of us.” 

“Yeah, Y/N.” Tony echoed, not even trying to hide his laughter. “C’mon out.” 

“Steve, please.” You begged. “I can’t see him right now.” 

“He’s not even here, дорогой (sweetheart),” Wanda yelled out. “Please come out, we’re worried about you.” 

“I am not leaving.” You shook your head. “You can’t make me.” 

The dinner table was quiet, the entirety of the Avengers (minus Bucky) staring at you with utter fascination. Well, more like a mix of pity, worry, and fascination. 

Peter cleared his throat, smiling kindly. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I did the same thing, and it all turned out fine.” 

That brought you some inkling of hope. “Really?” 

The teenager nodded. “She was very nice about it. We’re still friends.” 

Your face fell, dropping your head into your hands. The table erupted with laughter, and Peter’s cheeks grew bright red in record time. 

“Not exactly the smartest thing you could’ve said there, kid.” Tony snickered.

“Ease up, Tony,” Steve interjected. “He’s trying, unlike all of you.” 

“He meant well.” Vision finally spoke, much to everyone’s surprise. “There was no malice in his tone.” 

Clint smirked. “Yeah, Y/N. No malice. Does that bring you comfort?”

You raised your right hand, flipping him off.  

Sam shook his head. “I just want to eat, man. Eat, and see Bucky’s reaction.” 

Sitting up, you glared at the Falcon. “You’re excited for my demise, you psychopath.” 

“Not exactly.” 

“What’s-” The table turned around, dead silent as they stared at the Winter Soldier, who looked perfectly fine, content even. He stood in front of them with a bright smile, food in hand. “What’s going on?” 

“What’s going on?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell us?” You wished your superpower was invisibility. Unfortunately, it was not, so you opted for sinking further into your seat. “Nothing happened recently you want to share?” 

His smile fell. “No?”

Sam groaned, standing up and pulling the food from the super soldier’s hands. “Please. I’m starving.” 

Nat laughed. “I thought you wanted to see his reaction.” 

“Reaction?” Bucky sounded confused. “Reaction to what, exactly?” 

Thor was the final push. “I love you!” 

“I love you too?” Bucky sat down, eyes brightening when he met yours. You quickly stared at your hands, which were placed in tight balls in your lap. 

“Not me. Y/N. The words Y/N-” 

Clint slapped a hand over Thor’s mouth, glaring. “That’s enough out of you, big guy.” 

“What?” Bucky tilted his head, staring at you, with what seemed to be a glimpse of hope in his gaze. “When did you-” 

“On the phone?” Nat interjected. “You were on the phone, and Y/N said-” 

“Nat.” You hissed. “Stop, please.” 

“Y/N?” Bucky looked at you. “What’s going on?” 

So the phone had cut out. The phone had cut out, meaning if you had just kept your big mouth shut, everything would have been fine. 

And if Thor hadn’t opened his mouth, maybe you could have made it out with your dignity. “Nothing, James.” Reaching out, you grabbed your order from the pile, the rest of the Avengers following suit. Bucky stayed still, staring at you intently. 

You tried to focus on your dinner, on the conversation that started after, but every time you looked up, he was staring at you with his ice-blue eyes. “Doll?” The table quieted, staring at the pair. “Can we talk?” 

You swallowed the food that you’d been chewing, nodding slowly. You felt like you were being marched to your death as you followed him out of the dining room. Sparing one last look at the dinner table, Wanda and Peter gave you a half-hearted thumbs up. 

The hall was dim, Bucky’s eyes bore into your soul as he waited for an explanation. “Tell me what happened.” 

“Nothing-” You grew small when he sighed, crossing his arms. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, but you could tell he was panicking. You told each other everything, you were sure he was breaking a sweat from your lack of transparency. “Then tell me.” You stayed silent, and he took a step forward, practically backing you up against the wall. “Please, Doll.” 

You were sure this was a nightmare. A horrible horrible nightmare. “We were on the phone… and I um… I may or may not have said that I love you.” He did not react, continuing to stare at you. That’d made you even more nervous, and you began to ramble as a result. “And you didn’t reply, so I panicked, and then I hung up. I came home and hid in my room and then everyone found out and then I found out you didn’t even hear it, and-” You took a shallow breath. “I don’t want you to feel rushed or forced because I want you to feel comfortable, because I really do-” You stopped, looking up at him hesitantly. “I really do love you.” He was fully grinning now, and you frowned. “Are you about to laugh at me?” 

He shook his head placing his hand on the wall above you as he leaned down. “No.” 

“No?” You scoffed, ignoring the way his eyes had darkened. “You’re smirking, and I’m being vulnerable and you’re- you-” You huffed, walking away from him. “Maybe we should just-” Escape had almost been achieved when his metal hand wrapped around your wrist, spinning you around. “Stop.” You felt trapped in a spell, a horrifyingly beautiful spell. He stared at you so intensely that your knees buckled. “Buck-” 

He was still grinning. “I love you too.” 

“I-” You smiled. “You do?” 

“C’mon Doll.” He teased, brushing his nose against yours as he reached for your lips. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, still not believing this was real life. “You-” His lips were rushed; like he needed to kiss you to live. Placing his other arm around your waist, he pulled you impossibly close, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He could have gone on kissing you senseless for hours, but you pulled away, gasping for air. “Buck-” 

“You are so considerate, too considerate even.” He whispered. “I did want to take things slow, you’re right.” 

You nodded. “If you-” 

“Did I-” He kissed you before you could finish your sentence. “Or did I not,” He kissed you so gently, so longingly. “Just tell you that I love you too?” 

You were positively weak in the knees. “You did.” 

“I did want to take things slow, but you…” He almost growled. “You happened.” 

“Oh?” You were grinning now, actually grinning. “I’m assuming I happened in a good way.” 

“In a perfect way.” He corrected, pushing a hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “You’re too good for me, Doll. Don’t deserve you.” 

“I don’t know, Barnes.” You shook your head, kissing the corner of his mouth so lightly he could have sworn it never happened. “You’re pretty swell.” 

He rolled his eyes, pushing you away teasingly. “Never mind then.” 

You gasped, stalking back into the dining room, the Avengers observing from the safe distance the table provided. “In that case-” 

His hand wrapped around your wrist once more, pulling your lips to his instantly. Wolf whistles erupted, all of them laughing at the couple in front of them. Your hands rested on his chest, smiling as he pulled away, lips still touching. “Did you really have to do that?” 

He shrugged. “Just wanted another reason to kiss you.” 

“So sappy.” You teased. “What a charmer you are.” 

“Well,” He leaned toward your ear, whispering. “I aim to please.” 

“Break it up!” Sam yelled, mouth full of food. “I’m trying to eat here. Plus…” He pointed to Peter, laughing. “There’s kids present.” 

“I’m eighteen, Sam.” 

“Still a kid, Parker.” 

taglist:

[xiiithhazard]

Those That Follow

Why is Knuckles so afraid of ghosts? (Movie Verse)

Word Prompt - Atonement

@year-of-the-echidna

…

“Alight!” Sonic crowed happily, as he started the movie before anyone could see the title. It was finally his turn to pick, and he had plans. But just so he was out of the danger zone, he’d brought his bean bag chair. Something Tails had clearly picked up on, as it wasn’t a normal habit of his, but he hadn’t commented yet. Thus, allowing the hedgehog’s scheme to continue uninterrupted. “You guys are gonna love this one. It’s a classic.”

They proceeded to sit back with their individual bowls of popcorn and drinks to watch an elderly lady collecting discarded books from a library, before taking them down to the maze-like basement for storage. Of course, the action started pretty soon after that, when a couple of books floated off the shelves on their own, to seemingly reorganize themselves.

“Sonic?” Tails whispered, instantly understanding what he was up to. But he quickly shushed the fox, as they both turned to watch Knuckles, for his reaction. Already he was tensed, however, he didn’t quite understand what was happening yet and continued to watch the woman, as she made her way through the shelves, only to look back when a dozen or so tiny drawers opened on their own, allowing thousands of cards to fly into the air without any visible means to be doing so.

Immediately she began to scream and ran to the exit, only to continuously get herself lost in the endless shelves of books, until she finally rounded a corner and was attacked by a glowing, terrifying creature just off screen. Then the title appeared, and the theme song began to play.

‘Ghostbusters’.

“Oh, come on, man.” Sonic proclaimed, trying and failing to keep a straight face, when Knuckles stood up and walked out of the room. “We haven’t even seen the ghost yet.” He pointed out truthfully. However, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t coming back, so he decided to just let his chuckles run free and relish his prank.

“Sonic, that wasn’t very nice.” Tails insisted, not at all finding it funny. “You know how he feels about that.”

“Oh, give me a break. He’s gotta get over it at some point.” Sonic countered, waving his friend’s concerned off like it was just an annoying bug and started the movie again. Only for Tails to get up and leave as well. “Hey. Come on. It was just a joke.”

“If that’s how you feel, then you can watch it alone.” The fox seethed and exited the room in a huff. Leaving Sonic, as promised, alone on a night that the three of them were supposed to share.

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Jumping up, he rushed after his friend, only to find that Tails had run into Maddie on his way to the attic. The hedgehog winced, knowing what was about to transpire. And he wasn’t disappointed, as her gaze suddenly snapped to him, as he tried to sneak back into the living room.

“Sonic.” Her voice was calm, but firm, thus, he found himself basically forced to obey and froze on the spot, despite his better judgement. With that he just sighed and turned to await his punishment. “Why would you do that?” She asked sternly.

“It –” He began, tugging at one of his gloves sheepishly. “It was just a joke.” She folded her arms, never a good sign. “Oh, come on. It’s ghosts.” He insisted, though he knew he was just digging his own grave at that point.

“I seem to recall a certain blue hedgehog having an irrational fear of water.” She pointed out and he quickly jumped to defend himself.

“It’s not irrational. I could drown.” He insisted truthfully. But she just continued to glare at him.

“In the bathtub?” She clarified and he was suddenly less certain.

“It could happen.”

Maddie remined quiet for a moment, just watching him, until she finally spoke again, though her voice was just a little softer now. “The point is, you have a fear, a fear you cannot control. And no one makes fun of you for it.”

He found himself looking at the floor, as he realized she was right. She always was. “I’m sorry.” He said at last, but she wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not the one you hurt, Sonic.” Her specific choice of words made him cringe. He never wanted to hurt his friends. But then she knelt down to be at his level, and he felt a teaching moment coming on. “Have you ever bothered to ask him – why he’s afraid?”

“He wouldn’t talk about it anyway.” Sonic said, at least 98% sure that he was right on that front. However, she just scowled at him again and he sighed, ready to face his fate and started walking to the attic. Only for her to reach out and stop him again.

“The reason for asking is not to actually get an answer.” She explained, though, that hardly made any sense at all. “You ask because you care. Even if he never tells you. It’s your job, as his friend, to be there – and listen.”

Sonic realized just how heavy her words had been, as they really sank in, and he looked up into her eyes. “I – I’ve been really bad friend.” He admitted, almost ready to cry. But Maddie gave him a supportive smile, her eyes filled with understanding.

“Then – it’s time you make it right. And, thankfully, all you have to do is talk to him. It might mean more than you realize.” She encouraged and stood up to give him a gentle pat on the head, before stepping aside and allowing him to head to the attic.

He was halfway up the stairs, when he realized he had a shadow and looked back to find Tails following him, though he didn’t ask why, he could see it on his friend’s face. His own guilt for not stepping up to stop the prank, when he realized his friend would be hurt and a simply desire to just make sure Knuckles was okay.

So, together they climbed the stairs and found their friend sitting on his bed, his back to them. Thankfully, Tails was the first one with enough courage to step forward, and walked over until the echidna could see that he was present.

“Are you okay?” He whispered and Knuckles smiled, though it didn’t light his face at all.

“Yes.” He answered and Tails took that as his cue to sit with him. Thus, forcing Sonic to swallow his pride and walk over as well. Though he didn’t receive as warm a welcome.

He probably deserved that.

“Hey Knux.” He said nervously, fiddling with the cuff of his glove once again. “I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He started, only for his friend to lift his head a little, like he was waiting for more. However, Sonic had run out of preorganized thoughts. “It really was just a joke.” He insisted, only for Tails to glare at him sharply. “But – that isn’t an excuse.” He finally let his hands fall to his sides, as he admitted defeat. “A joke isn’t a joke if it isn’t funny. And – hurting my friends is never funny.” He lifted his eyes to meet Knuckles and held the gaze, determined to make this right. “I really am sorry.”

It was all he could really say. But thankfully, his friend’s stern expression slowly softened, and he finally smiled again. This time actually looking like he was okay, instead of just saying it, despite the fact that he clearly wasn’t.

However, Knuckles ended up being the one to look away first and sigh, as he stared at his hands in sudden frustration. “It is not that I don’t understand. I do.” He admitted quietly and Sonic carefully inched backward to sit in a chair, so they would all be on the same level. “It is not becoming of a warrior. It is – irrational.”

There was that word again. “That doesn’t make it invalid.” Tails came to his rescue, but Knuckles didn’t look convinced. Instead, he just clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Maybe – it would help if you talked about it.” Sonic suggested, trying to take Maddie’s words into account. “I mean – if you want to.” He added uncertainly. Honestly, with only a few short years of experience under his belt, he could be forgiven for being kind of bad at this whole ‘talking to people,’ thing. But if nothing else, he and Knuckles could find a shared understanding of each other through the loneliness they had each experienced, as well as their desire to find companionship.

“I – I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.” Knuckles admitted after a minute and went quite again. And, for a time, Sonic thought that he wasn’t going to try and found himself struggling over whether to push or let it go.

Thankfully, their resident emotional compass was there to help the process along. “Maybe just start at the beginning.” Tails suggested warmly and the echidna looked up at him for a moment, then back at his hands.

It was then that Sonic realized the real problem. Knuckles knew he needed to talk about it, he wasn’t stupid, but his isolation had left him unable to do so. Now it had been so long that he just didn’t know how to address it and, what’s worse, he was ashamed. To a stubborn warrior like him, he knew how childish this fear must seem to others, but yet he couldn’t fight it. And that shame made him want to close the bottle again, giving it even more pressure, which would only make the unavoidable explosion that much more devastating.

Trying to bridge the gap, Sonic just said the one thing he sometimes still needed to hear himself. "You're not alone." He said softly and finally, Knuckles looked up, a hint of rarely seen vulnerability in his eyes, then he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Do you recall the owl’s temple on the mountain of snow?” That was unexpected, but Sonic still considered the question.

“You mean where we found the compass?” He asked and Knuckles nodded. “What about it?”

“The murals there. Did you see them?”

Sonic and Tails looked at each other, recalling the stone walls and their story of the creation of the Master Emerald. “Yeah.” Tails answered after a moment, just as confused as Sonic at this point.

“There was one, a depiction of an ancient warrior that once used the Emerald to drive back an invading army.” Knuckles explained and the other two winced a tad, recalling that rather distressing image. “That warrior – was my direct ancestor. Enerjak. In many ways, the power that flowed through him on that day – now flows through me.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, honestly unsure how to feel about that and was still confused as to what this had to do with anything. But again, Tails came to his rescue.

“So that’s where your chaos powers came from?” He asked quietly and Knuckles nodded. “I always wondered.” The kid admitted but held back from pushing the topic any further.

“What the murals did not show – was the aftermath of that battle.” The echidna finally continued. “As its Guardian, Enerjak was able to do what many could not. Harness both halves of the Emerald’s power at once.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic found himself asking, despite knowing he should interrupt. But Knuckles explained anyway.

“Chaos comes in two very distinct forms. Negative and Positive. The Emerald acks as a kind of fail-safe. To prevent a single person from gaining too much power, only one form can be accessed at a time.” He said simply. “When Robotnik used its power, he channeled only the negative. When you did so, it was the positive.”

“Oh.” Sonic murmured, having not actually realized that until just now, but he supposed it made sense.

“But – Enerjak was different?” Tails asked and Knuckles nodded, seemingly a little lost in his own thoughts for a moment, thus allowing the fox to ponder another question. “And – does that mean you could do that too?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Knuckles stated, coming out of his thoughts again, though he did so with a kind of shiver. “Though I would very much never like to try.” He admitted, and that more than anything made the other two nervous, for what came next. “In order to save our clan from complete annihilation, Enerjak called on its power. However, whether his cause was worthy or not – it did not save him.” He took another breath to steady himself, before continuing. “When the owls – removed the Emerald from his possession, it was not done – properly – and he was driven to pure madness, as a result.”

Sonic felt himself cringe inwardly, suddenly realizing why Knuckles never wanted to use the Emerald himself, despite arguably having the most right to do so. This also explained why the echidna had been so cautious when Sonic had taken on his golden god form. He had been afraid that the same thing had happened again – in fact, he had to wonder just how close he had been to that fate.

Suddenly feeling squeamish, he looked up to ask, despite not really wanting to know, only to find Knuckles eyes meeting his own, clearly thinking the same thing. However, the echidna’s calm deminer helped him to relax again. He’d not only forced the Emerald out of Robotnik’s body, but had basically put the thing back together again, a few minutes later. Surely, he could have handled a rampaging hedgehog, if he’d had to.

Eventually Knuckles turned away, clearly content that their silent conversation had had its desired effects. “In the beginning, Enerjak’s insanity wasn’t immediately noticeable.” He continued after another minute. “He led our clan to reclaim the Emerald, but they did not realize his only goal was to restore his own power.” He looked away, unusually calm considering the discussion. “It was his leadership that led my people to war with the owls. Even long after his death.” Sonic found himself no longer wanting to talk about this particular topic, but didn’t interrupt, as his friend moved on as well. “In the end, his insanity nearly drove my kind to extinction. He had to be stopped, and the only way to do so was to trap him in the chaos void.”

“What’s that?” Sonic interrupted anyway, before he could stop himself. But thankfully, Knuckles looked relieved to have a change of topic.

“Think of it like an invisible sheet over the universe. It is where all chaos energy comes from. At times, holes will form in this sheet and when the pure power of that void meets our world, a chaos emerald is formed. This is what Enerjak was trying to do. He wanted to create a hole and, with himself in place of an emerald – he’d become a god.”

Both Sonic and Tails winced at that. They could only imagine the kind of destruction someone like that could cause if they reached godhood. Even Eggman’s brief time with the emerald looked almost peaceful by comparison. And that was not a pleasant thought.

“He was stopped. However, he had his – followers.” He explained further, and Sonic roiled his eyes. ‘Yeah, that figured.’ “When I was born, I showed immediate signs of chaos powers, beyond anything my clan had ever seen. They grew concerned that I was his reincarnation, and they feared the possibility of Enerjak’s return. There were honest discussions of simply killing me, just to be safe.”

“Say what?” Sonic proclaimed in horror and his friend finally looked up from the floor, as if shocked that this had gotten such a strong reaction. However, he recovered and smiled at the hedgehog.

“My father vehemently opposed this decision, of course. And his brother, the chief, backed him.” He explained calmly, only to slowly look back at the ground. “There were those that did not agree, and – there were those with – other agendas.

The room went quiet, as Knuckles stopped talking and Sonic and Tails looked at one another again, before the hedgehog leaned forward. “Knucks, are you okay?” He asked worriedly, which seemed to pull him out of the memory a bit.

“If you don’t want to talk about it – you don’t have to.” Tails insisted, but the echidna shook his head, clearly determined to get the rest off his chest. As he soon closed his eyes and took another breath, then continued.

“There was a man, a secret worshiper of Enerjak.” He said, pausing for another second, then shook himself out of it again. “To this day – I cannot remember following him. I just – woke up and I had no idea where I was. He wouldn’t talk to me, he was too busy preforming his ritual and I couldn’t escape, I could barely stand. The energies in the cave were so – corrupt they made me sick. Then I began to – see things. People. People I soon realized were not actually alive.”

Knuckles sighed loudly and leaned back on his hands to look at the sky through the circular window in the ceiling. Like he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t back in that cave. “Then I saw him. Enerjak.” He whispered, seemingly speaking more to himself than them. “I’d heard stories of him, of course. But nothing could prepare me for what I saw. He was – cold. Terrifying. And, somehow, I knew he was there to kill me.”

When he went quiet again, clearly stuck in the memory, Tails reached over to gently touch his shoulder, and he jumped. Prompting Sonic to stand up and sit on his other side, so, he’d have even more contact to prove that he wasn’t alone. But neither of them spoke, there wasn’t really a need.

“In a way. I was right.” He finally spoke again. “It was explained to me later, that the ritual had opened – a hole in my soul. A door, if you will. If the process had been allowed to continue, Enerjak would have forced me out of my own body, to trade places with him. I would have been trapped forever in the chaos void, as he had been. But my father had noticed my absence. They tracked the man to the cave and stopped him, just in time.”

Sonic felt like he could suddenly breathe again, but the tension hadn’t quite subsided. “The ritual was stopped, but – the door remained.” Knuckles went on, slowly lifting a hand to touch his chest, like he could actually feel it there. “I’ve been susceptible to spirits since that day. I still see them everywhere I go. And, though I have had – some positive experiences. My old Chief has often come to me in my times of need.” He clutched his chest fur just a little tighter, as he stared back at the floor. “They can – sense the door and if they feel so inclined, they will try to – enter.”

Tails and Sonic winced again, as that certainly did not sound pleasant. “But – they can’t – take over – can they?” Tails asked worriedly and thankfully their friend looked up to smile at him reassuringly and shook his head. Leaving them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

“That being said.” Knuckles continued quietly, and the sudden fear in his voice made the room’s temperature drop by a couple degrees. “He – still lingers, at the edges of my sight. He waits for the moment that the final pieces of the interrupted ritual are set back into motion. If that should ever happen –” He froze, the words getting stuck in his throat, but they didn’t need him to finish. Sonic and Tails were already completely distressed, trying to imagine one of the people they cared about the most being hunted by a literal god.

“Gees.” Sonic complained, rubbing at his quills, suddenly immensely irritated with himself. “Now I feel like a total jerk.” He looked up to meet his friend’s gaze and found himself practically begging for forgiveness. “Knux, I – I’m so sorry. I – I –”

Before he could completely break down, Knuckles reached over to lay his hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I forgive you.” He said simply and Sonic felt like a planet had just been lifted off his chest. “Besides.” He spoke up again, his smile returning, though it looked much more genuine than it had before. “If he should return – I will not face him alone.”

Sonic perked up at that, and smiled as well, before they were interrupted by Tails suddenly throwing his arms around the echidna’s waste. “No – you won’t.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes and his hold got just a little tighter, causing Knuckles to gently place a hand on his head, clearly unsure what to do. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to this kind of emotional show of affection.

But he’d just have to get used to it, cause Sonic quickly threw his arms around him too. “Never again.” He promised and together, the two practically crushed their older brother. Until he finally had no choice but to give in and gently rested his arms around them both and brought them in closer.

…

The End

[pixlokita]

When is your birthday?

Uhhh -looks at calendar-

This week (・´ω`・)

[souljahwwitch]

PINK HAIRED SWEETHEART! pt.2

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 some hc’s about thanos x fem reader! after the squid game <3

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ; since everyone wanted part two with thanos and pink haired reader, here you go!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 what you didn’t expect was, during the squid game, thanos went in length to take a pen from those pink soldiers, just so he can write your number on his hand, he promised you two will go to a pretty cafe—didn’t he?

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 but when you, him and like—four more people finally got out, with shit tons of money, your paths were separated—afterall they left every single one in different places. and you didn’t even know where he lives, you thought it was just his little joke.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you were chilling in your room, two days later-figuring out your plan, and then you got a call from an unknown number, you thought nothing of it—just picking up mindlessly

“hello?” you mumbled softly

“missed that annoying voice of yours, not gonna lie.” your eyes widened—it really was him, he wasn’t playing around.

“you jerk! you weren’t joking” you said with a giggle—and you couldn’t help but notice the way your heart did a flip at his laugh.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you two soon made plans that consisted of just chilling, you two found a cute cat cafe and he said he’d be waiting for you there tomorrow at 8 pm

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you actually put some effort in looking pretty (you always are pretty!) but it was kind of strange when he saw you bloodied and messy.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 when you entered the said cafe, you saw him there—cigarette in his mouth, your eyes got glassy for whatever reason as you sat across from him, his eys widening and his grin to his eyes.

“your hair is hard to miss, angel” he said, smirking and you rolled your eyes—mumbling a little ‘says you.’

“soo how you doing after all of..this.” you contemplated his question.

“i still don’t feel anything, it’ll take a few days for me to realize what the fuck happened.” you said, honestly.

“i mean…for a pretty little thing like you—you were fucking ruthless.”

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 you two talked and talked, and you couldn’t help but notice there was something different in his eyes rather than annoyance

“y’know, you should wear your hair in two braids more often, suits the pretty pink that’s going on.” he said, his eyes ranking over you shamelessly

“you think so?” you mumbled softly, looking up at him all shy and pretty

“yeah—yeah i think so, angel.” he mumbles, his tattoed hand softly tilting your chin up at him, his face getting dangerously close.

[21280]

may I request miss🙋🏻‍♀️ some high nsfw katsuki

warnings for nsfw, p star! katsuki, no quirk college au, consumption of weed n alc, masturbation, fem! reader, it’s a cliffhanger i’m sorry i don’t have the brain rn

katsuki bakugo would become a porn star entirely on accident.

the topic would surge from time to time in his friend group, mostly as a joke. because "gosh, bakugo! you have the body of a porn star! you sure you're not on some secret account we don't know about?" and it really got to him. what does a porn star body look like, anyway? it's a mystery to him, as he pulls out his phone on incognito and...

he's in disbelief. he's actually looking up porn. never in his life would katsuki bakugo ever think of doing so. katsuki feels like he'd be less guilty if he's not sober whatsoever, so he's searching multiple accounts on his twitter throwaway with one hand as the other holds a small joint. it's not long before his eyes are completely red, pants and boxers slid down to his ankles, and videos recommended by kaminari going on auto-play.

but he's not satisfied, not one bit. he stopped caring for physique videos ago, he's now entertained by the poor technique. with blurry vision, he reads the replies and quote tweets, expressing their inconformities. comments like "god, her moans sound so fake", or "can't he stroke it slowly? i want it to last" make his mind run. katsuki bakugo was lost in the world of constructive criticism, while his ego began to chew at him.

he can do better than those stupid extras, right?

of fucking course. he's katsuki bakugo. but he's not gonna fucking do it. nope. never.

katsuki bakugo is a lightweight. he feels like he's sitting on the moon instead of his couch as he's gulping down some cheap rum his friends bought the week prior. and soon enough, his camera app is open, cock fully on display, and he's stroking it for a few good minutes. and the camera catches everything—how his cock twitches every time his strokes get slower, how the tip was reddish and filled with precum from the very beginning, his heavenly moans, his white-knuckled grip, and how his knees shake as he comes undone and stains his red, velvet couch.

and he has the video on twitter as a draft, half written caption and all. katsuki needs to visualize how it would look like if he posted. until he does. his finger slips, and the video and half caption are posted. at first, katsuki is mortified and doesn’t know what to do, until he sees a person liking and commenting. he decides to leave it up until he sobers up.

twelve hours and a huge hangover later, user 00179359027728kb is a twitter porn sensation.

thousands of users express their love for him, asking and demanding for more videos, as well as wishing to be his partner in crime. when katsuki realizes he can monetize this, he suddenly has dollar signs for eyes. a few videos later and katsuki bakugo is famous.

so famous, in fact, that one of your friends is in love with him, despite only seeing the lower half of his face. she raves about him to you on the daily, and as a result you find yourself creating a throwaway to watch his videos, and damn—katsuki is fucking sensational. he’s an icon, and you wish he were in your bed right then and there.

but he’s quickly discarded by your own brain as you get ready for an outing. it’s a nice, weekend night, and your friends are ready to go clubbing. once you get there it’s… okay, you suppose. dim lighting, people stuffed like sardines in a can, and the occasional couple eating their faces in the corner. you know the many cocktails you had are catching up to you once you accidentally bump into a person, and as you turn to apologize, you’re stunned.

“y’should watch where you’re going.”

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t see y—wait—are you that kb guy from twitter?”

he’s like a deer in headlights. “…that depends. who’s askin’”

“name’s y/n” you giggle, “i know you cause i have a friend who’s nuts for you.”

you officially pique katsuki‘s interest. his eyebrow rises as he smirks, “oh, is she?” he tilts his head to the side, “what about you, sweets? you watch me too?”

shyly, you nod. his smirk gets bigger as he steps closer, “she here? i don’t really do pictures, though.”

“do you do videos?”

liquid courage. it would cost you a lot to even say that sober, and you blame your drunken state for your boldness. katsuki bakugo has that fiery look in his eye as he laughs. “sure i do, sweets. you wanna be the first model for my page or is it just to spite yer friend?”

first?

only model is your goal. you’re determined to make that happen.

“bathroom? in 5?”

“ya got it, captain.”

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[rafesangelita]

♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the ‘₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader’ tag of this post!

w/c: 1.3k

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[leviathanleva]

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

After months of giving your all to a man you barely even knew, you're finally rewarded. He takes off his mask in front of you almost hesitantly and you're overjoyed. Still, you want to, need to know why and so despite your better judgement, you ask him only to receive a laugh in response.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

[5.1k words] [Slightly NSFW]

Chapter 3 "Powder"

Simon had expected tension when he’d relied to you the news that he was leaving on deployment soon. But no, you were as chipper as ever, rolling your sleeves instantly and beginning to prepare him for the journey while bombarding him with questions.

It was…different, in a good way. There was no guilt for having to abandon you to fulfill his duty. You were worried, that much was clear, but you didn’t let it bother you enough for him to have to figure out a way to comfort you before leaving.

He was grateful even if he didn’t show it, hoping that the crinkled skin in the corners of his eyes was enough of an indicator.

He stretched lazily on your small couch, feet tucked under your bum as per your usual arrangement, while you absentmindedly folded his freshly washed clothes back into his duffle bag. A random sports channel is playing on the telly, drowning out the silence while he watches you fuss with a shadow of a smile hidden under his mask.

A pile of dry laundry was splayed over the armrest you were leaning against and you plucked each piece with the utmost care, looking over it for any spots that the washing machine hadn’t been able to get rid of before laying into his bag.

“Is this a bullet hole?” You murmur to yourself while looking over a gray knitted blouse, particularly at the edge of one sleeve where the stitching was ruined. You run your thumb over the hole, brows furrowing as you inspect it, then turn to Ghost with a small frown. “There’s a bullet hole in this one. You wanna keep it?”

When he realizes your question is targeted at him, he blinks away the thoughts swirling in his head and shrugs.

“Keep i’, adds character.”

You snort, but fold it regardless and stuff it with the rest of his clothes.

A distant whistling erupts from the kitchen and you stand to dust off the lint from your sweats before scurrying to get the kettle. It doesn’t take long before you reemerge with two steaming mugs in each hand and set one before him on the coffee table. He grumbles out a thank you while sitting up and tugging his mouth free from his mask.

Back tea with milk, just how he likes it, piping hot in a mug big enough for him to comfortably wrap his hand around.

“Gonna make a real good missus.” Ghost murmurs out casually and picks up the mug before taking a prolonged sip and letting his eyelids close at the familiar flavor.

“Yeah? Well, you’d make an awful husband.” You joke, playing along with the innocent understanding that he’s joking and not trying to figure out how to get your ring size without making it obvious. You kick at his knee with your own, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “You never fight with me over anything. Even when I try new cooking recipes off the internet.”

He mulls over your words for a moment, eyes focused on his steaming beverage.

“Didn’ leave no marks on me las’ night. Can complain abou’ tha’.”

“Jesus Christ, Simon.” You gasp and sputter to place a palm over his mouth, thrusting yourself into him as he fights off your flailing hands with ease. “Don’t say such things!”

“Why no’? ‘m just ‘aving a fight with me wife is all.” His teasing doesn’t relent but he lets you press your weight on him and guide him down into the cushions of the sofa. There’s a rumble coming from his chest, a series of snorts as he watches you struggle to keep from becoming completely flustered.

“Oh my God, stop! Stop it!” you’re already a flushed mess, he can feel your face burning from his position beneath you as you fight your wrists free from his loose grip.

“Tryin’a mount me like you did las’ nigh’, Birdie?” His hands come to rest on your waist, the words slipping past him just before you press both your palms against his mouth with a doe-eyed look on your face. He holds you steady, a wolfish smirk making his canines peak beneath his upper lip.

For a moment he thinks your abashed state will hit its limit and you might faint right on the spot, what will the uneven breathing and shaky arms, flared nostrils and quivering bottom lip.

“Shut! Shhh. No more sinful talk. Awful man you are, I’ll never marry you.”

An empty threat that only makes his smirk grow as his chocolate browns twinkle up at you adoringly. It doesn’t cross his mind even for a second that you’re unaware of just how serious he is and how much planning has gone on inside his thick skull over the past few days.

It’s okay, you don’t need to fret over such things, all you need to do is say yes when he finds you a pretty enough ring.

“Gonna behave now, old dog?” You ask and hesitantly free his mouth before settling down on top of him and crossing your arms, a hint of a victorious aura to your puffed-out chest and twitchy smile.

He pats your bum ever so gently and sits up abruptly, causing you to slide into his lap. The power imbalance tips in his favor as soon as he’s looming over you, wide shoulders and muscly arms making you nearly disappear in his embrace. He bumps his nose into yours, head bent down to your level and tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

You swallow thickly, your heart leaping in your throat and staying there as he lingers just on the edge of kissing you. And he’s already pawing at the waistband of your bottoms, greedily trying to slip his thick fingers beyond and toward the comfortable warmth of your sex.

A shiver crawls up your spine and a pleasant tingle settles low in your tummy. Your head snaps towards the digital clock propped above the TV.

“Stop it.” You scold, push him away from sniffling at your neck like a curious wolf and again on his back before slipping out of his lap. “Greedy old dog. I have to go shopping or else you’ll be having fried air with a side of nothing.”

A displeased grumble reaches your ears as you make your way towards the bedroom, intent on changing. You scoff, roll your eyes at your roommate’s childish pouting. Flicking the lights on, you trudge towards your wardrobe, your shared wardrobe although shared was a very generous way of putting it. Aside from a pile of boxers and socks and the occasional black top, there wasn’t much of Simon’s attire.

You wondered if this was all he had while slipping into a pair of jeans, thought over the fact that he did look like a guy who’d be caught dead before going out clothing shopping. It was a sad realization, you made a mental note to buy him some more things when your next paycheck arrived or when he decided to leave another wad of cash on the kitchen counter and label it as rent money.

At least he had a toothbrush, even though with how used and abused it looked, you considered getting him a new one alongside other male toiletries like soap that didn’t smell like wildflowers and shampoo that was a bit less strawberry scented.

After donning a comfy hoodie and walking to the hallway to put on your shoes, you glance at him and see him molding into the couch while his stare is glued to the screen and his brow is visibly lowered in displeasure.

“You can either sulk or you can come with me and get your blood going.” You suggest and straighten up once you’d tied your laces. He didn’t budge, only gave you a side glance. So you try again, more softly this time. “I’d like the company.”

You bat your lashes at him prettily, toss him a girlish smile and coquettishly slip on your jacket and he’s just a man after all, he gets up and pats down his top before joining you.

Coaxing him to do anything was never difficult, all that was needed from you was to look weak and cute and like you’d yield the moment he lumbered over to you. You liked to think you were special and that he wouldn’t bend the knee to just anyone, but then again you hadn’t seen Simon interacting with other people.

Most of your time together, all of your time together, was spent within the confines of your home. Ghost wasn’t one for going out, he was selfish like that, liked you all to himself, and with your attention nowhere else to be set except for him and his needs. You didn’t mind, it was cute in a way. He was needy and touch-starved even if he refused to admit it aloud.

Poor old dog, you’d take good care of him.

Although while you were locking the front door and felt him hook a pinkie finger around yours and lead you down the stairs, you got to thinking. Maybe you were more of a dog than him. You were the one bowing your head to his every wish and did anything you could think of to please him. It was one of your greatest pleasures to slave over him because he’d been so tired and beaten down when you’d first kind of “adopted” him.

Then again, he’d sort of made you adopt him. He’d just brought his things over and hadn’t left. You were certain he would have if you’d just said something, but you never had, you hadn’t confronted him about any of the weird things he’d done so far. Maybe it was too late now or maybe he’d just bury himself between your legs and lap at you until you were near unconscious like the last time he had when you’d seemed displeased. Or maybe he’d actually disappear and never come back and even though you’d known him for a couple of months, something sinisterly painful jabbed at your heart at just the image.

No, this was fine. You were happy to have him. Right…?

The grocery store wasn’t too far away, you could get to it on foot easily. Although something felt off. As you walked down the street with Simon in tow, you noticed the quick, ridged glances you were receiving from people of all kinds of ages. Some of them even made the effort of walking out of your way or taking sharp turns to avoid the two of you.

It was an odd experience, one that also subtly tickled a particular pleasure gland in your brain.

Was this what having a scary dog privilege was like? If so, then you were having the time of your life.

If only people knew what an actual sweetheart your companion was, they’d double over laughing at their first assumptions. But they never would because Ghost was yours.

When you picked up a cart that required both your hands to steer, you felt a tug at your jeans and glanced down to see he had hooked one finger around the belt strap on your side. You offer him a soft snort and try to bite back the grin that was growing on your face.

The place was full as expected, newly stocked as well for the weekend shopping most customers did around your area.

As you made your way through the aisles you scolded yourself for not scribbling down a list of what you needed, then proceeded to pick up a good amount of garlic and onion because most dishes need one or both aplenty. Wouldn’t hurt to have more even if you already had some back home.

Slowly, but steadily, your cart begins to fill the more you walk around and your vision falls on something that you were running low on. Funnily enough, since your new roommate, you’d found yourself having to shop more than once a week. He had a ravenous appetite and you liked that about him, liked having someone there to enjoy your cooking.

Living alone was a blessing, but it did get lonely sometimes.

And before you’d just make something hasty and easy for yourself, too busy with work, too tired after work, or just too lazy and not seeing the appeal of treating yourself. But now, you had someone who depended on you and it felt exhilarating to prepare meals and have another mouth to feed. It didn’t matter to you that Ghost wasn’t big on verbal praises in regards to the food you made him or the care you put into him.

You were happy just having him contently lounging on your couch and stroking your thigh while you lay beside him.

“Milk, eggs, cheese, butter, Simon, you’re tugging too much.” You call back while sifting through the egg cartons and trying to find one that has all ten eggs intact. When the tugging didn’t relent and you received no answer, you turned back with the intent of scolding the silent giant. “Simon, I said you’re – ”

But it wasn’t Simon. He was on your opposite side, staring downward. You follow his gaze to find a little sprout of a being hooked to your jeans and looking up at you with just as much confusion.

Apparently, the toddler had seen your tall, dark, and handsome partner linked to you and with their guardian nowhere to be found, she’d done the same. A child’s mind will forever stay a mystery to you.

The child doesn’t look older than five or four, with large eyes and a small mouth that was shaking with uncertainty while she gawked up at you in a silent plea. The jacket she had on made her look like a walking square, her hands barely poked out of the sleeves. She’d be adorable if not for the tear-stained cheeks that immediately tugged at your heartstrings.

You shake off the shock that has stiffened your joints and push your cart away.

“Hey, there.” You coo gently, shoo both of their hands off your jeans before they end up pulling them off your hips, and kneel down to greet the poor thing that was already hiccupping with sobs. “Hey, little Darling. Where’s your mommy? Did you get lost?”

When the waterworks start again, you gently pet her back.

“There, there. Let it out, it’s okay.”

You curse yourself for not packing any tissues in your bag and wipe the tears off her chubby cheeks with your thumbs.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” You soothe, glance up at Ghost to see him standing there silently and watching the encounter unravel with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Typical guy. “Can you tell me your name? Your mommy’s name?”

“Julie.” Was the choppy, nasally answer you receive as the toddle clumsily wipes the snot in the sleeve of her jacket.

“Is that your name or your mommy’s name?” You ask while unzipping her jacket enough to get it off her mouth and find it coated in a sheen of saliva.

Tissues, wet wipes, freaking toilet paper, you would have liked to have something to wipe the poor thing clean, but of course when you needed your supplies most, nothing but your wallet and chewing gum were in your bag.

“My name is Julie. Mommy’s name is Mommy.”

You would have giggled at that answer if Julie wasn’t pouring out her little heart’s sorrow in front of you. Instead, you nod with an okay and rise to face Ghost while resting your hands on your hips. From what you can see around you, nobody is looking around frantically for a lost toddler so you sigh and run a hand over your hair, thinking.

“Might have to take her to reception and make an announcement. Or the mom might already be there.” You say and give the hulking behemoth a once over before cocking your head to the side. “I’ve got the cart. You mind taking her?”

You take a step back, but by the uneasy looks both of them are giving you, it dawns on you that playing mediator was your next step before taking the child along.

“It’s okay.” You give Julie a warm smile, eyes moving between her and Ghost while he also squats down, a foot away from you as not the scare the little thing. “This is Simon. He’s really nice, I promise. He’s my best friend, in fact, he won’t hurt you. Promise.”

It takes some more convincing on your part before the toddler agrees to be picked up by your companion, but once he’d set her on his shoulders to scan the area for her parents, she seemed as cheerful as a cherub. Apparently, she’d never been held that high off the ground before, it was a whole new experience for her, and by the way Simon supported her back with a hand larger than her head and the gentle shine in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t having too bad of a time either.

You make your way towards the reception desk, accompanied by a symphony of kiddish giggles, your grocery shopping left on the back burner until you relieve yourselves of your new bundle of joy.

Squeals would come from Julie every so often as she fidgeted around on Simon’s shoulders, her pudgy hands splayed in his dirty blond locks or tugging gently on his ears. It suited him being in charge of a little one, the fatherly appeal caused a pleasant knot to tighten in your chest and you tried to wipe the wide grin off your lips, but you just couldn’t.

“Hi, good evening.” You call out to the staff on the other end of the wide reception desk, thankfully catching their attention just before they turned their back on you. “Hi…We found this little girl in the dairy aisle, haven’t been able to find her parents. Would you be able to make an announcement maybe?” You lean in and lower your voice, glancing back briefly to see Julie preoccupied with giggling while toying with Simon’s free hand to hear. “We don’t know the names of the parents. I tried asking but…no dice. Her name is Julie.”

It takes less than ten minutes of you hanging about the reception after the announcement was made, while Ghost entertains the lively toddler, for you to see a flushed woman hurrying your way with her purse clutched under her arm.

You straighten up and adjust your jacket before taking a few small steps forward.

“Oh thank God. Julie!” The mother you presume, presses a hand to her chest when she sees her baby girl atop your roommate’s shoulders. “Thank goodness.”

She surges forward before plucking her child from Ghost’s hand and squishing her to her cheek with a relieved expression softening her earlier strained features. You guess Julie would have been just as vocally ecstatic if her face wasn’t immediately squished to her mom’s neck. You watch her flail for a bit before being maneuvered on her side so she can say a thank you.

“Thank you so much! I turned around for a second and – ”

“ – It’s not a problem.” You chirp back, waving your hands to hopefully dismiss the built-up anxiety that had the mother’s eyes still as wide as saucers. A polite smile adorns your lips, your gestures open and stance friendly to ease the poor woman before she suffers a heart attack at your feet.

“I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.” She says while smoothing out her daughter’s hair lovingly and pressing a feverish kiss to her forehead, earning a giggle in response. Then she extends a hand towards you, which you shake with pleasure. “She can be a bit of a handful. My name is Lily, by the way. I’m sorry to have to meet like this.”

“No trouble at all, ma'am.” You nod, let her shake Simon’s hand as well while you give her your name, and toss a fleeting glare at your loving roommate for not offering his. “We’re happy to help. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you again, bless you. Say thank you, Julie.” Lily urges and gently grabs Julie’s arm before waving it at both of you. She turns then, readjusts the toddler in her arms, and offers you one last farewell before walking away. “Have a good evening and thank you.”

Despite both the distance and the chatty surge of people around you, you can hear Lily scolding her daughter under her breath before returning to the cart she’d abandoned. It all makes you laugh, especially hearing the muffled mumbles of protest as Julie stares at you and Ghost over her mother’s shoulder.

You wave at her one last time before fetching your discarded grocery cart and rolling it to Simon’s side.

“Didn’t know you were so good with kids.” There’s a teasing note to your tone as you glance at him from under your lashes, hiding a smirk behind the collar of your jacket.

You take the lead, slowly making your way back between the aisles while skimming around for any products you might have skipped past the first time.

“Didn’t eithe’.” He says softly as if the whole situation was the most foreign thing he’d ever witnessed. As if this had been the first time he’d held a toddler, it was heartwarming to feel the thought behind his absentminded voice.

“You’d make a great dad one day.” You hum and poke at his side with your elbow to make him look down at you only to beam up at him.

He’s silent for a while as you stop by the stacks of instant ramen, eyes never leaving yours as his head tilts to one side.

“Tha’ so?”

“Absolutely.” You respond with confidence before breaking your heartfelt eye contact to pick out a packet of noodles for rainy days when you don’t feel like cooking. “Maybe I’ll get to be the Godmother.”

You miss the way he arches an eyebrow at your statement as if you’d said the most blatantly inaccurate thing ever. You miss the way his chocolate brows fall down to your belly where they stay for a suspicious amount of time while he thinks over how nice it would be for you to go shopping with a wee one fussing about in your cart.

For the rest of your stay in the grocery store, Simon was noticeably more touchy. Instead of hooking himself to your jeans, he had a hand pressed to your lower back, thumb rubbing circles into your jacket, hard enough for you to feel. You didn’t question it, thinking his good mood was probably due to your encounter with Julie earlier, the toddler did boost his spirits up after all. He persisted while you were making your way home, holding the groceries in one hand while keeping his other on you.

Nothing seemed out of normal to you while you were outside besides him being a little needier than usual. You didn’t ask about it and didn’t tease him either, instead, you were trying to figure out what to cook up tomorrow because you had all the time you could wish for since it was Saturday. Then again, you had other chores to tend to. There was the washing up, hoovering, dusting.

But as soon as you twisted your key in the lock and stepped inside your now-shared apartment, he had you practically pinned against the wall. Grabby hands were fumbling to get your jacket off while you kicked off your shoes and spat mewling protests against the bulk of his shoulder.

Between getting you and himself undressed, you managed to slip out of his grip and pattered to the kitchen hurriedly, groceries in hand. You barely managed to set them on the table before Ghost twirled you around in his arms like you weighed nothing and bent you over the counter.

“Simon!” You hiss back and fuss to get yourself free. “What’s gotten you so riled up all of a sudden?” You feel a prominent bulge press against the soft curve of your ass and squeal. “Darling, please! At least take me to the bedroom first.”

A “tsk” comes from behind you and you’re about to yap at him that that’s no way to respond to the person who’ll be making him breakfast tomorrow, but the air is knocked out of your lungs as you’re picked up with ease and flopped over his shoulder like a potato sack.

“Simon!” You thump a weak fist against his back as he carries you down the hallway and it still makes you laugh that he needs to duck past your kitchen door, despite the situation. “Talk to me, Darling? Please? Not that I mind, but I need to put the groceries in the fridge and – ”

He tosses you on the bed and crawls on top of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. There’s a certain flare to his eyes as he stares you down and you feel a lump form in your throat before you force it down and coo up at him.

“Wanna tell me what’s been going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You try to squirm away but only end up with his erection lodged between your thighs and his body weight locking you down against the sheets. A moan slips past your lips before you cup his cheeks and run your thumbs over his eyebrows to ease the tension that’s built up there.

“Tell me, please?” You urge while getting comfortable beneath him and swatting away the hand he has toying with the button of your jeans. You lock your legs around his thick waist and pull him a little closer. “Please?”

He doesn’t respond right away, apparently smacking his hand off you thrust him into a spree of thoughts. You wait patiently, one hand scratching at his scalp tenderly while the other stays on his cheek. He looks away from you after a while, something you don’t quite comprehend darkening his moment of contemplation as he mulls over a decision you can only guess at.

His earlier desperation has all but vanished, leaving you absolutely confused.

“Si…Darling.”

You don’t expect him to turn back to you with pain glistening in those brown orbs you like so much before he props himself up on one elbow. Don’t expect the uneven movements of his hand as he slowly, timidly takes one of the black bands holding his mask in place and unfurls it from his ear before taking the little slip off entirely. He places it by your head and adjusts himself on both elbows, a thin-lipped frown tugging the corners of his mouth down as he watches avidly for your reaction.

A pang of guilt surges through you because of how long you’d been silently staring back at him in the darkness of your room. The street lamps illuminate the walls, illuminate his bare face as well.

His. Bare. Face.

The one he’d been hiding since you’d first met, the one you hadn’t seen even when you’d seen the rest of him stark naked whenever you made love. It doesn’t register at first, that you can see his whole face, that he’d finally let you see all of him.

Then your chest flourishes, it feels like exploding in a heap of budding flowers and a breathless laugh leaves your lips, one of joy, of an achievement long overdue, finally accomplished.

You hesitantly cup his cheeks again, this time feeling the light stubble grazing your soft skin.

“Hey…” You manage out, fighting to kick away the surprise and give him the love he deserves for taking such a step forward. “Hey, handsome old dog.”

Your tender expression forces him to halt his breathing altogether before he buries himself in the safety of your neck, breathing you in slowly, the familiar scent calming his strained nerves. You feel the muscles on his back ripple under your touch as you run your hand over his form tenderly, feel his chest expand with every strictly controlled breath he takes.

“Hey…” He murmurs back, greeting muffled into your skin as you rest a trembling hand against the back of his head and sink your fingers into his short hair.

You hadn’t even paid attention to the scars littering his battle-honed skin, they’d been the last thing on your mind as you’d taken him in. He was ruggedly charming, uniquely handsome, it boggled you why he so fiercely hid his face when there was nothing wrong with him. But that was a discussion for another day, you pushed down your bubbling questions and just let the moment consume you.

You feel his lips move against your neck as he swallows, and nuzzle your cheek against his crown lovingly before closing your eyes with a sigh. He relents when you nudge him with your nose to lift his head before pressing a kiss to his nose, then his cheeks, his chin and forehead before finally planting your lips on his. His desperation to remove your bottoms returns then and he’s back at toying with your button and zipper.

You let him take off your jeans while you tug at his jacket, leaving it to pool on the floor before he eases himself out of his blouse and nestles back above you. Your feet come to rest on his strong calves, hands in his hair and glazing over his back as he loses himself in your skin, nipping incessantly at your collarbone while silently asking for you to take off your top and let him feast on more than just your neck.

And as always, you’re pliant when he’s finally caught you under his bulk. You push him off enough to discard the article of clothing before letting yourself fall back into the sheets, mewling happily while he laps at your flesh like a man starved.

A heat pools in your loins, one you try to soothe by pushing your hips up into his and earning yourself a choked growl that makes you quiver with excitement.

But a question keeps nagging at you no matter how heated you become and how low his insatiable lips travel down your body. You hum when his nose nudges the hem of your panties and you stop him before he can pull them off and descend on your gathering slick.

“So…” You begin through a strained voice and glance down at him, finding his eyes already locked on you. Your mouth goes dry, throat tightening, but you force yourself to ask. You need to know, if nothing else, at least this. “What’s the occasion?”

He laughs at your hesitation, a deep, rumbling laugh choir that should come from the monsters in your childhood fairytales, not the man about to stuff his face between your thighs.

“Wan’ed you to see what the father of yer kids looks like, Birdie.”

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[neo-nomatrix]

The Olive Theory

Luke Castellan x Reader

word count: 641

summary: Strawberries are your favorite thing in the whole world, luckily for you Luke seems to “hate them”

a/n: based on the olive theory from himym

@repostingmyfavs

There are two things you truly love in this world: Luke and Strawberries.

You often find yourself helping the Demeter and Dionysus kids in the strawberry fields, despite your actual job being at the infirmary. Miranda often scolded you for taking strawberries for yourself during the day, you didn’t mind though. The sweet yet tart berry was worth it.

Your obsession with the fruit grew even further. You begged the dryads for extra portions during dinner, pairing them with yogurt and melted chocolate. Your least favorite part was having to sacrifice the berry to your godly father. You debated giving something else to him but everyone at camp and above knew your love for them, there was no running from it.

Luke was well aware of your passion for strawberries. Going as far as joking that you love them more than him. You both aren’t quite sure if it’s a joke or not.

You sit at a picnic table near the Hermes cabin with luke. You had just sat down with Percy and three shortcakes for each of you. Luke leans over and presses a soft kiss against your temple as you sit down. Percy notices that you can barely acknowledge it since your focus is on the cake.

Both Luke and Percy stare at you in wonder as you eye the desert, they can’t seem to figure out why you haven’t eaten it yet. Impatient, you look over and luke with a wanting gaze.

“Oh- right,” he says understandingly.

Percy is clearly confused by the seemingly telepathic communication. His eyes dart between you and Luke, your gaze once again set on your plate. Luke picks off the strawberries from his cake and places them on your plate. As soon as the first two strawberries are there you start devouring the cake like a ravenous hyena. Percy starts to wonder if you’re even chewing. Luke starts to eat some of his until he stops halfway. He puts the remaining piece of cake on your plate for you. You eat it immediately as if it was there the whole time.

“Are you gonna have that?” You ask politely, eyeing a large, red strawberry on Percy’s plate.

His eyes shift down to where your gaze is settled, “No, go ahead.”

You smile and take it with your fork, biting into it quickly. Percy’s eyes shift back to Luke, who’s been staring at you since the moment you sat down. His face held a small smile as he admired you. You smiled as you licked the whipped cream off your fork.

“I think I'm gonna get another slice!” You exclaim happily, standing up and nearly skipping to where the dryads are.

Luke watches as you leave, eyes falling on your figure.

“I never realized she liked strawberries that much,” Percy said.

“Yeah, I'm kinda surprised she hasn’t turned into one yet,” he laughs quietly.

“I assume you don’t like them that much? I mean- you gave her all of yours and half of the cake,” Percy explains.

“Strawberries? no way, they’re great. But she loves them so much, and I'd do anything to make her happy,” Luke smiles as he nibbles on the remains of one of your eaten berries.

You come back with a widest smile on your face. You hold another cake alongside a cup of strawberries. You sit down, happily eating more of the cake and strawberries.

“Isn’t it so great that Luke doesn’t like them? I get them all to myself!” You say, beaming.

“Yeah,,, perfect,” Percy says slowly, remembering the new found information.

“Mhm; I’d give my girl all the strawberries in the world if I could,” Luke mumbles.

Luke has a single mission in life, making you happy. Even if that means giving up his favorite fruit for you. Your smile is worth much more than a simple strawberry.

[kaisturni]

cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor roles and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

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after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it���s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt” i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

[blueberrymocha]

texting them

gon

✰ he didn’t grow up with much technology

✰ and he def did not have a phone

✰ so since he isn’t in the habit of using it often, your messages are all on delivered

✰ he also prefers to live in the moment instead of checking his phone all the time

✰ unfortunately for you that means you’re better off calling the person he’s with if you need to reach him

✰ once you talk to him about it though, he’ll be sure to answer within a couple hours

✰ he’d save your contact as a pet name, personally i can see him using “sunshine” or “honey” for you

✰ you’d be pictureless until killua points it out to gon and explains that you can add pictures to someone’s contact

✰ but once he does learn he’ll use a cute coupley picture of you guys from one of your first dates

✰ would have trouble deciphering your abbreviations

“btw ur gna be back asap right?”

“huh.”

✰ its fine, he prefers to call (loves to hear your voice) anyways

killua

✰ y’all would be so mischievous together

✰ prank calls as a weekly ritual

✰ you’re mostly safe from them but don’t think he’ll never do it to you

✰ probably won’t text you first but always responds within the minute

✰ would only call if he’s checking up on you, like when you’re sick or he’s on an adventure

✰ will use the most abysmal, disrespectful picture he has of you

✰ your name on his phone is either an inside joke or an insult like “sleeping ugly 🧚‍♀️” (he’s out for blood omg you overslept once)

✰ i just know alluka is confused af

✰ he’ll change it to something else whenever you see it, which you will eventually

“y/n can you check my phone?”

“sure! babe why is my name ‘dumbass’ heart emoji, wizard emoji?”

kurapika

✰ you can see this one from a mile away…

✰ his phone always got that silent mode + dnd + texts muted combo

✰ he does all that but would fully expect you to pick up if he called you

✰ speaking of which, he would call probably daily if either of you were away

✰ never forgets an “i love you” “be safe” “see you soon” etc

✰ if something happened, would want you to know that

✰ you guys would fall asleep on calls

✰ but mostly him

✰ your contact might just be your name for a while

✰ but i could also see him using something tame like “love” or “sweetheart”

✰ hes also the type to leave you on read

✰ especially if you’re asking when he’ll be back or how his mission is going

✰ generally just keeps his work separate from home unless he needs to vent or it’s extremely relevant to you

leorio

✰ wishes he could talk more often

✰ school just keeps him really busy

✰ will be upfront with you if he needs time to study, make dinner, or anything of that nature

✰ you’d get in the habit of leaving voicemails

✰ he listens to them all and leaves some for you too

✰ also good morning and good night texts, always

✰ your picture is whatever picture of you he finds the hottest tbh

✰ your name would be a pet name such as “shorty” or “beautiful”

✰ idk why but i feel like he’d misplace his phone often

✰ so if he doesn’t respond by the end of the day, you’ll probably get a call from his roommate’s phone saying how he lost his own

hisoka

✰ lets it ring out and then calls back a minute later

✰ “oh did you need something?”

✰ this man can’t stop playing games, the call cuts off halfway through what you’re saying

✰ then he calls back again acting like it was the wi-fi

✰ don’t worry——that’s only like a quarter of the time

✰ depending on his mood, he’ll be mostly serious

✰ imagine the look on his face when he realizes you’re calling because you’re in the hospital or smth

✰ yeah so he’s better at responding now!

✰ your contact picture is gonna be from the most stalker angle

✰ like it’s just you sleeping

✰ you found that a little odd but maybe your clown just wants to capture those memories

✰ …while you’re walking home on the opposite sidewalk

✰ if you’re in a longer, serious relationship, your name is something romantic like “my dove” but it’ll take a while to get there

illumi

✰ you’d be so surprised to find that he loves to call

✰ he travels a lot as an assassin, so he needs something to do

✰ would always text you formally it’s scary

“have you arrived at the manor yet, y/n? be sure to notify me immediately once you do.”

✰ he’s giving you customer service type responses

✰ you’ll also get updates about his missions

“i’ve just finished killing the target, expect to see me home in four days”

✰ the contact is just your name and if you convince him, he’ll add a picture of your choice

chrollo

✰ has like six phones

✰ if you didn’t know he was the leader of a gang you might‘ve thought he was cheating

✰ you also have the numbers of most of the spiders

✰ so if he ever has to disappear (like after yorknew) they’ll be sure to let you know what’s going on

✰ he’ll text you a few times a day if he’s able to

✰ would ask about your day and remind you to take care of yourself

✰ the conversations usually focus on you, while he listens or prompts you

✰ like kurapika, doesn’t want to involve you in troupe business so it’s very rare for him to even mention them

✰ he doubts you even want to hear about how he robbed an old man today, or killed a woman who didn’t hand over a jewel

✰ on his top secret personal phone, he’ll give you a contact photo with both of you in it

✰ your name would be a classy pet name, maybe “princess” or “beloved”

[thoughtfulfiction]

Operation: Den Prep

Author’s note: I feel like Joe is very dramatic about things he can’t control and impending parenthood is definitely chaotic. Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece!

All you wanted to do was take a nap. You weren't asking for much. Just an hour, maybe an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep.

But no. That would be too easy.

The cars that lined the driveway couldn't be a sign of anything good. Joe wasn't really one to throw parties, and with exactly four weeks before the baby's due date he wasn't exactly the most chill or relaxed man in America. If anything, the cars were a sign that you wouldn't be getting that nap in any time soon.

A gigantic sigh leaves your body when you walk in the door. There are people—strangers— in your home, scrubbing every square inch of the place.

"Joe?" You call out, attempting to scoot past the people dusting the vents.

"He's upstairs in his office," a woman responds kindly, in the midst of scrubbing baseboards. Your friend Nikki, who was with you all day, stares at everyone in shock before helping you up the stairs.

You caught your breath a little while running your hand over your baby bump, feeling like you climbed Everest. Nikki knocks on the door and waits for Joe's voice, telling you two to come in. Your husband was seated at his desk, highlighting sections of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide for Dads-to-Be, surrounded by several other parenting books.

"Joseph..." Nikki begins since you still can't breathe. “What the hell is going on here?"

"Language," Joe says without looking up from his book, "he can hear you."

Nikki turns to look at you and you shake your head, not wanting to get in the middle of it right now. Your eyes were telling her to just focus on one problem at a time, the biggest issue at hand being the cleaning crew taking over the house. She seems to agree. "Okay, let me try that again," he nods, finally looking up, a disinterested look on his face. “Don't know if you know this but, there are people downstairs treating your home like it's a warzone on germs."

"I know. I hired them to do exactly that. Because it is." He says in a matter of fact tone. “I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes home. The house needs to be as clean as possible so he has a safe environment.”

“Joe, this isn’t prepping for the end of days. You realize babies don’t come out demanding hospital-grade cleanliness, right?” Nikki jokes, leaning against the doorframe.

Joe doesn't find it funny. “Do you even know how many germs are in the average house? I read it’s millions. Millions, Nicole. I’m not risking it.”

You sigh, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He was adorable when he got like this—focused, determined, and completely over the top. It was endearing, but you could already tell you'd have to reel him in before he booked a hazmat team to inspect the nursery. “Joe, I appreciate what you’re doing. I really do. But we’re supposed to be relaxing these last few weeks, not running ourselves into the ground.”

“You’re the one who should be relaxing,” Joe said, standing and gently guiding you to sit in his chair. “You’re growing a human being. That’s a full-time job. I can handle everything else.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Joe, I don’t need you to handle everything. We’re a team, remember? And besides, I don’t want you burning yourself out before he even gets here.”

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, his tone firm but caring. "I promise. I just...want everything to be right for him. He’s going to depend on us for everything, you know?”

Nikki sat down on the couch in the corner of the office, still grinning. “I’m not gonna lie, this is kind of impressive. Most dads just install the car seat and call it a day. But you? You’re basically turning this place into a baby-friendly, germ-free utopia."

Joe shot her a look but didn’t argue as you let out a yawn. "Are you tired?" He rushes out, "they should be done in our room, you can go take a nap if you need it. I was serious about you getting some rest."

"And so was I about you getting some rest. We won't be sleeping as much when he gets here so getting a head start on sleepless nights isn't the wisest business decision."

"Okay," Joe folds the corner of the page that he's on and stands up, kissing you on the side of the head. "What if...we kick Nikki and the cleaners out and we go take a nap?"

"Um hello?" Nikki waves her hand in the air, "still here, in the room, with both of you. I can hear everything you're saying."

Joe doesn’t bother acknowledging her, his eyes focused on you as you nod with a laugh. “I love you, Nik, but he’s right. I need to lie down before I collapse.”

Nikki smirks, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “You’re so lucky you’re carrying my baby, Y/N. Go take your little nap, I’ll see myself out.” She pokes Joe in the chest as she passes. “Joe, co-parenting with you is going to suck, but I gotta admit—you’re going to be a killer dad. You just don’t need to stress yourself into a heart attack to prove it.”

Joe rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "For the last time, it's OUR baby. Not yours. There is no co-parenting."

"Sure," Nikki smiles, patting him on the back, "sure buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. By the way, good luck kicking out the cleaners. I'm pretty sure one of them is power-washing your oven.”

She’s gone before Joe can reply, leaving you shaking with laughter as he mutters, “I’m changing the locks tomorrow.”

When you woke up from your nap, Joe was gone. You found him downstairs, scrolling through the notes on his iPad, intense focus that you'd really only seen when he was going over film. It was heartwarming to see that he was taking impending fatherhood as seriously as he took his job. In a way, being a dad was like taking on another job. With endless hours, no days off and no pay. But the rewards? They were going to be worth everything.

Sinking into the spot next to him, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

"Going over the checklist," he replied, his hand automatically resting on your belly, absentmindedly tracing small circles with his thumb. "We've got a bunch of deliveries coming tomorrow to get the nursery done which will probably take a couple days. Then we need to start getting the fridge stocked and pack our hospital bags. I was also thinking we do a trial run to the birth center."

"A trial run? Why?"

“I need to time it,” he said, his fingers still drumming softly against your bump. “Traffic could be bad, you’ll be in pain, and I’d rather not have to deliver a baby in the car. I mean, I can learn how to, but I’d rather not.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his focus shifted momentarily, his hand now lightly tapping your belly like he was sending a secret code. “Joe, we’ll be fine. We’ll get there when we get there. Not everything is gonna go to plan so let’s not waste time but trying to plan out every detail.”

“I hear you and I get what you’re saying but I’d rather be overprepared than caught off guard,” he muttered, flipping to a new note with his free hand. His other stayed firmly planted on your stomach, as though he could steady the world by keeping a connection to the little life inside. “Oh, and dinner with our parents tomorrow…that’s going to be something.”

"Be nice. They mean well," you reminded him, nudging his arm.

“Sure, but last week my dad said something about bourbon on baby gums helping with teething. I had to pretend to choke so I wouldn’t laugh in his face,” Joe said with a soft laugh of his own. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and whispered against your belly, “Just ignore your grandpa, buddy. We’ll do teething the right way.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you reached out to thread your fingers through his hair. “Joe, you’re already such a good dad, you know that?”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his hand still cradling your bump. “I just want to get it right, for him… and for you.”

"You will. And you know how I know?" He shakes his head, his eyes locked in on you, searching for your answer. "Because once you put your mind to something, you don't let anything or anyone stop you."

For a moment, he’s quiet, his gaze softening before he speaks. “You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?” He reiterates your words, his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans in, sneaking a kiss.

Your laugh is light, but your heart swells as he places his lips on yours one more time. “Kid’s pretty lucky,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls back. “And he doesn’t even know it yet.”

The rest of the evening is spent ironing out some minor details of Joe's fool proof baby plans.

Your husband is not the handiest person in the world. He's more of a "I'll hire someone who's more qualified" kind of guy. Exhibit A? Full time chef so he doesn't have to cook. Exhibit B? Full time cleaning staff. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how to change a tire. But he also probably has access to triple A and one phone call from Joe Burrow might actually have everyone working that day rushing out to answer the call. With all that being said, you assumed that putting together furniture would not be something he'd be inclined to do. And then a few weeks ago he, Jimmy and your dad spent three hours building a custom Bellini crib. Now that he had a taste of satisfaction in knowing that he put it together with his own hands, he wanted to build everything in the baby's nursery.

Today's project consisted of your dad, Jimmy and Joe putting together a bunch of things that were delivered while you, your mom and Robin sorted through baby clothes and collected freshly washed laundry to place in his closet. Every tiny sock and little hat sent butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your own tiny person wearing these clothes in just a few short weeks. It was both daunting and exciting.

Throughout the day, more people were walking into the house, Ja'Marr came in first since he pretty much lived next door. Sam showed up 30 minutes later, a tool-kit in hand. A few high school friends even drove from Athens to help.

"Guess Joe called in the calvary." Robin says with a laugh, putting the onesies she just pulled out of the dryer in neat stacks to count and fold.

A few hours later, the three of you took a look at the inventory laid out before you. Your son probably had enough clothes to last him through four outfit changes a day for the next few months. You mentally reminded yourself to cut everyone off from buying any more articles of clothing until further notice.

The doorbell rang and Joe magically appeared downstairs to answer it, his Jeff Ruby's catering order had arrived. A few staff members carried in all the food and Joe thanked them on their way out. Before you could even ask, he said "you don't think they're all working for free do you? Had to give them a few incentives." You simply shook your head, a smile forming on your lips as he disappeared upstairs again.

When the guys were finally done, everyone gathered downstairs to eat dinner, casually chatting about life, Ja'Marr giving a recap of his offseason so far and what trips he had planned. Everything was actually normal until your mom spoke up.

"So, who are you guys gonna have in the delivery room with you?"

Joe nudged you under the table with his knee, giving you a look like "here we go."

"Um...we're still finalizing details of the birth plan. I was just thinking me and Joe for now, the less people seeing me at my worst, the better," you joke, trying to keep it light.

"Well what about visitors?" Robin chimes in. “How soon after are we going to be able to meet the little one?"

"We were thinking the next day. Gives us time to settle in, get some sleep and then have you guys meet him," Joe says casually. That seems to satisfy all parties, your parents nod in understanding and you breathe out a sigh of relief that the conversation doesn't go any further.

Pretty soon after dinner, most of the guests are gone and Joe asks if you want to see the nursery. You immediately hold out your arms and let him lift you to your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back until you reach the room. Before he opens the door he covers your eyes with his other hand. "You ready?"

"Yes," you let out a small laugh, the anticipation eating away at you, "you've been hyping up these packages for weeks let's see what you’ve done."

"Alright," you hear him open the door and he guides you inside by the hand, still keeping your eyes covered. "3...2...1."

Some of the big things had already been put together. The walls had been painted, the closet space was set up, Joe had brought an LED starry-night ceiling projector (on top of the chandelier that was already in the room) and a sleek, modern changing table with a with several gadgets you weren’t ready to mess with. Yes it was too much. No, he wasn't going to return any of it.

Your eyes scanned the room: a plush, white rug that looked too soft to step on without socks, a glider that seemed to have more tech features than your car, and a Dyson purifier glowing faintly in the corner. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all the hands that had come together to make it perfect. “He’s not even here yet, and he’s already so loved,” you said, your voice catching slightly.

"He definitely is," Joe says happily, knowing he and his team nailed it. "Come on, I'll give you a tour." He gestures toward the window, "blackout curtains. I read that they can help babies and toddlers sleep better. They can also help regulate the temperature and reduce noise. For temperature though, I got a Dyson obviously, it's supposed to be the best.” He walks you over to the next spot. “Over here we have the changing table."

"Does this...have a built in warming pad for wipes?"

"Yeah isn't it great?” He beams, “so his little butt is warm when we change him in the middle of the night."

You let out a soft laugh at how much of a softie he already is for someone he hasn’t met yet. "He's gonna be mad we're changing him either way, warm wipes or not. But I know you’ll be using it so it’s fine.”

He opens the top drawer of the changing table, "I put some miscellaneous stuff in here. All organic. Silk-blend crib sheets, swaddles, and burp cloths that I washed yesterday so they're ready to use. Over here is the feeding station and the mini fridge, which I'm really excited about."

"Why do we need a mini fridge in the nursery?"

"Think about this. I'm on overnight baby duty and you're catching up on sleep. Our baby is sobbing because he's hungry. Instead of making him wait while I go downstairs and grab a bottle, we just have the bottles in here. And then this little compartment on this side is a freezer so we can have milk storage bags in here too since the bottle warmer is right there. And watch this,” Joe said, pressing a button on the bottle warmer. “It’s like a Formula 1 pit stop but for babies. Two minutes tops, and he’s good to go.” You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his comparison.

"You know what? I'm not mad at it. Keep going."

"Right next to the fridge is the actual feeding station so we've got a couple pillows here next to the chair, burp clothes and then a little table in case whoever is in here needs water or to set something down. White noise machine is over here. You gotta play with the setting there's like 100 sound options and custom settings. The baby monitor is cool too, it has HD video, two-way audio, sleep analytics, the whole nine.” Joe pick up the expensive contraption. “Here, let me show you some of the noise machine settings."

He was too excited for you to decline, so you motioned for him to go ahead. "This one is ocean waves," he said, hitting a button. A soft crash of waves echoed through the room. "And this is rainforest sounds. Oh, and this one—"

"OW!" you yelped, clutching your belly and bending forward slightly.

Joe froze mid-button press, the sound of chirping birds now filling the nursery. "What? What happened? Is it happening?" His voice rose an octave as he practically leapt across the room to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh through the sharp jolt of pain, waving him off with one hand. "Relax, Joe. It’s not labor. It’s uh...lightning crotch."

"Lightning what?" His panicked expression turned to utter confusion, and he blinked at you like you’d just spoken a foreign language.

"It’s this sharp, sudden pain down there," you explained, gesturing vaguely toward your lower half. "Totally normal. Just your kid punching my nerves like one of those UFC fighters you're obsessed with."

Joe stared at you, wide-eyed. "That’s a thing? That’s allowed? Why does no one tell dads about this stuff?"

You shrugged, still giggling as you slowly straightened up. "Welcome to pregnancy. Every day’s a surprise," you reassure him, patting him on the back.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely rattled. "Okay, so let me get this straight. So far, there’s morning sickness, swollen ankles, back pain, weird cravings, and now lightning crotch? What’s next? Spontaneous combustion?"

"Would you calm down?" you teased, reaching for his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "It’s not that bad. Just part of the process."

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, muttering, "You’re making a whole person, and I can’t even keep up with the symptoms."

"You’re doing great, babe," you said with a smirk. "Now, are you gonna show me what’s in the next drawer, or should I add 'Joe having a meltdown' to my list of pregnancy side effects?"

That earned a laugh from him, and he shook his head, pulling himself together. "Fine. But I’m looking this lightning crotch thing up later," he said, giving you a playful glare before opening the next drawer.

Joe is going through the various assortment of baby blankets but what catches your eye is the bookcase. You step closer to it, running your fingers over the leather-bound spines. "Are these…first editions of Goodnight Moon and Oh the Places You’ll Go?"

"Collector's editions," Joe corrected with a sheepish shrug. "My mom used to read these to me,” Joe explained, his voice soft. “I figured…maybe I could do the same for him. Only with the fanciest versions, of course.”

"Of course,” you affirm. “You're adorable. This place is...a lot. But it's genuinely perfect Joe, you guys did an amazing job, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I should be thanking you. You're making us parents soon."

"I know. Being in here and seeing it finished makes it feel more real. There's gonna be an actual person using this stuff. That's insane."

He grabs your hand and leads you out of the room, "it is insane. And I can't wait. I wonder what he's gonna look like."

"I hope he looks like you, that would be so adorable. Having a tiny version of you would be a dream."

Joe chuckled, a soft, boyish sound that made your heart flutter. "You’re setting the bar pretty high for this kid," he teased, then paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But really, no matter what he looks like I know he'll be perfect."

The two of you stood there in the quiet of the hallway, the soft hum of the mini fridge in the nursery the only sound. For a moment, everything felt perfectly still—just the two of you, on the edge of an adventure that would change your lives forever.

You said goodbye to the last of your visitors and you turned around to Joe standing in the middle of the living room holding a notepad and a pen. "Where did you even get that, weren’t you just hugging your mom?"

"I had it on the coffee table. We’re supposed to watch the video for our prenatal class, remember?"

"Right now?" You ask, looking at your phone. It was only 9pm but it felt like at least one in the morning. You felt like Joe with his strict bedtime during the season.

He nods, already reaching for the remote. "I have big plans for us tomorrow so yeah, now is the perfect time."

"Alright, put it on." You relax into him, grabbing your blanket. "You're really gonna take notes?"

"Yeah. This is for educational purposes, I need any helpful tips I can get."

"You're sure you're gonna be able to watch and write things down? I don't want to scare you but, it might be intense."

"Babe, I get chased by grown men who want to take my head off for a living. Intense is my middle name," he places the notebook on the table and ditches the writing utensil, lazily placing his arm around you before starting the video. "You know what? I might not even take notes this time, I'll probably watch it again in my office in a few weeks when we get closer to the due date and take notes then."

You shrug, letting him do his thing. "Whatever you say, babe."

Joe's relaxed posture slowly turned a bit more tense as the video went on, the graphic image of the baby crowning was unfortunately going to be engrained in his memory for a long time. You had to stifle a laugh as his usual cool, calm, and collected demeanor cracked like a fine china plate dropped onto tile.

"Is...is that what we're gonna go through? What you're gonna go through?" His voice was shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost.

"Yup," you emphasized the ‘p’ sound. "That right there is the beauty of childbirth Joseph." You could practically feel his discomfort radiating off him.

"Oh my god." Joe muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to mentally recover.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. "You know, it’s not all that bad. It's just...well, it’s a lot. And it’s very messy.”

He blinked at the screen, still not sure how to process what he’d just witnessed. "Right, sure, a lot. Just—" He exhaled dramatically, trying to find words. "I need a drink. I don't even like alcohol. Or we should maybe just call it a night and go to sleep. I need maybe a small...break from the miracle of life."

You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and snuggling into his side. "Welcome to parenthood, Joe. Just wait until you're actually in the room. This was just the trailer."

Joe leaned back, a hand on his forehead as he processed the visual overload. "Little man needs to stay in there a little longer. I'm not ready to watch that horror film."

After declaring that the two of you needed a break from baby stuff, you and Joe took it easy the next day, diving into a true crime marathon after he came home from his morning workout. It was the perfect distraction from all the overwhelming baby prep. But today, he was back at it—better than ever.

"Did you know that newborns don’t have kneecaps? They have cartilage where they should be. They don’t get kneecaps until later."

"Wait what?" you ask, clearly confused.

"Yeah, I read it this morning, it's crazy. He isn't gonna have knees for weeks. I could've used that trick in 2020," Joe adds nonchalantly, his tone as casual as ever as he brushes off his knee injury from years ago. The way he brings it up so easily makes you laugh.

"What else did you learn?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Joe glances over at you, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I read that dads who are involved early on in caregiving—like diaper changes and feedings—bond with their babies faster and more strongly. So I’m all in on that."

"Baby?" you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look over at him.

Joe pipes up, looking away from his hospital bag, still gathering his things. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have a choice on that one. You were gonna feed him and change his diapers whether you liked it or not," you laugh and easily catch the t-shirt he tosses at you. It just happened to be your favorite one you liked to steal and it smelled just like him. That was definitely coming with you to the hospital.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, checking everything off your list. You had comfy clothes, fuzzy socks, four outfits (just in case), a phone charger, a portable charger, a water bottle and a robe which you'd never worn before but Joe insisted you bring it because what if this was the one time that you actually needed it. "What's in your bag?"

Joe opened the Nike duffel and let you take a look. "Why do you have your backup iPad in here?" you ask, a little puzzled.

"OTAs start two weeks after he's born. I need to glance through stuff and make sure I'm ready," he explains, glancing at you with a shrug.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Fine, but what are these doing in here?" You pull out his Bose noise-canceling headphones. "Are you gonna tune me out while I'm in labor?"

Joe looks at you with wide eyes, practically dropping the headphones in surprise. "What? No!" He quickly pulls out another pair, a sheepish smile on his face. "I brought some for you too, just in case you want to listen to music and, you know, maybe tune me out a little."

"You're really thinking ahead, huh?" you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

Joe shrugs, his smile growing. "I try."

You nod, crossing your arms. "I mean, I guess we’ll see if those headphones get a workout during the labor part."

Joe gives you a playful look, his tone still light-hearted but his eyes full of genuine excitement. "I’m just saying, if you need a little escape from my endless rambling during contractions, at least you have options."

"Oh Joey, I love you."

“I love you,” he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, feeling steady kicks against his stomach. "And I love you too, baby boy. Kid can't stand not having the attention on him," he smiles, his voice soft but filled with affection.

"Taking after his dad already?" you tease, the corners of your mouth lifting into a grin.

Joe pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression. "Now you know that’s just not true."

You chuckle softly, resting your head against his chest. "I guess we’ll see, huh?"

He lets you go and the two of you go through all three bags one more time before Joe announces the next task. "Are you ready for our hospital trial run?"

"I still think it's ridiculous but if it'll make you feel more comfortable then I'm in."

Joe carries all the bags down the stairs, tossing them by the door and has the stopwatch open on his phone. "Okay, here we go." He presses 'start' and grabs the keys and the bags while you stand in the kitchen, taking a sip of water as you waddle to the car.

"Babe, why are you going so slow? We're on a time crunch here."

"Well if you must know, your son is crushing all of my internal organs and grinding my hip bones together. If I walk too fast I’ll pee. And then you'll have to get me new clothes and I'll have to change. That'd be really bad for your time crunch."

He drops it immediately. "Okay you're right, take your time."

Once he helps you in the car he rushes around to the driver's side and buckles in, opening the garage door and pulling out of the driveway. You're holding the phone, watching his time as he drives carefully but efficiently, weaving through the streets like a man on a mission. "What if there's traffic that day?" You ask.

"Then I'll figure it out. I just need ballpark range how long it'll take us to get there." He checks the stopwatch again, the third time in the last five minutes.

"Joe, you don't have to treat this like you’re at the two-minute warning during the Super Bowl when you’re down one score."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel despite your words, his jaw clenching as he glances at you, "better to be safe than sorry."

You shrug, reclining in your seat to take some pressure off your back.

"You good?" He asks gently, his hand finding its way to your leg. "How’s the baby doing?" Joe asks, glancing at you between turns, a hint of concern in his voice. "Should we pull over so you can stretch?"

"No, I'm fine," you sigh, a smile tugging at your lips as you settle in more comfortably. "I could really go for some ice cream right now though."

"We'll get some on the way home," he laughs, a relieved chuckle escaping him. "Call it a reward for a successful trial run."

He pulls into the parking lot of the birth center with a sigh of relief, glancing at his phone in your hand. "13 minutes, not bad at all," he says with a sense of accomplishment.

"Yeah, that's great," you smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "I want a scoop of rocky road and a scoop of raspberry sorbet. In a bowl."

"Together?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

"Yes," you reply, grinning.

Joe pulls out of the parking lot, a proud smile on his face as if he just completed an Olympic event. "Mission accomplished. Ice cream in five minutes."

A week later, Joe was going over a food list with his chef Morgan. "For quick snacks, I was thinking Greek yogurt with granola and fruit, hard-boiled eggs—she'll need the protein. Maybe some string cheese or cheese cubes, nut butter with apples or bananas. We’ll definitely need to stock up on protein bars," he lists off items, looking through the fridge and cabinets.

"What‘a going on in here?" You walk into the kitchen and spot Morgan jotting down every word Joe is saying.

Joe looks up and smiles at you but then pauses for a moment, his eyes tracking your every movement as you waddle over to the counter. He raises an eyebrow. "You alright? You're walking like you just got off a horse."

You roll your eyes playfully but feel a grin spread across your face. "Nice to see you’re paying attention."

"Seriously," Joe says, now focused on you with concern. He steps closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he watches you shuffle around. "That’s a pretty pronounced waddle. You okay?"

"Yup, just one of the perks of carrying a tiny human in there." You shrug, trying to act casual about it, but it's hard to ignore how much effort it takes to move these days.

Morgan, glancing between the two of you, stifles a laugh. "It’s the baby," he explains with a knowing look. "The weight shifts, and her body’s getting ready for the big day."

Joe doesn’t look entirely convinced. "I don’t know, babe," he says, lightly tapping your belly. "Maybe we need to get you some support or something. You shouldn’t have to waddle all over the place. Like one of those belly belt things to help take the weight off your hips.”

You smirk. "Trust me, I’ve got it covered. But thanks for noticing."

Joe looks at you, giving you a soft smile that says he’s both amused and a little concerned. "Yeah, no problem. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable."

"Thanks, Joe," you tease, giving him a playful nudge before you turn to Morgan, who’s still scribbling on his notepad as Joe turns his away again. "So, what do you have so far?"

Morgan lists off everything he’s written, "Trail mix, chia pudding, pumpkin or sunflower seeds—"

"We never have those in the house," you note, crossing your arms. "Why now?"

"They're high in zinc and other nutrients that support lactation," Joe says simply, not looking up from the fridge.

"That's helpful but I really will probably need fruit, veggie sticks and hummus since you're interesting in me increasing my protein intake, maybe some avocado toast and smoothies too? Keep it simple, Morgan. I’ll also need the lactation cookies I sent you."

"Noted." Morgan says, catching Joe’s shake of his head as you laugh.

"Just get her whatever she wants," Joe sighs, exasperated, but with a fond smile. "I’m actually glad you brought up the cookies, Y/N, because I wanted to run something by you. Both of you, actually."

You sigh, already dreading the conversation, and the chef looks up from his list. "What’s up?"

Joe pulls out a folder from one of the kitchen drawers, showing Morgan the list of the “best” lactation cookie and energy bite recipes he could find.

"Babe," you groan, "I told you that you're overthinking the cookies. They’re just cookies."

“Lactation cookies,” he corrected, already flipping to another recipe. “These are important. They’re, like, your fuel.”

"My apologies your honor," you laugh again, "carry on."

Morgan laughs too and Joe playfully glares at him. "Yeah—yeah, laugh it up guys." He gestures toward the folder, "I highlighted the key ingredients on each recipe.”

The chef raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of recipes. “You want me to make all of these?”

You stand up and take a peak at the extensive list, "you don't have to do that Morgan, just make a few batches of chocolate chip and call it a day," you sense Joe tensing next to you and you rub his back a little, "you're doing that thing again. Where you're freaking out instead of relaxing. You need to relax," you say with a small smile, guiding him back to calm.

You take your eyes off of Joe and focus your attention back on Morgan. "Thank you for never flinching at his insane requests, but if these cookies don’t work out, you can just order some. As long as they have oats, flaxseed, and brewer’s yeast to support milk production, then I should be fine."

Morgan nods, jotting a few more things down before he leaves to head to the grocery store. Joe looks at you, his expression softening. You nod at him, offering a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s done their research,” you say, nodding your head as his lips twitch into a smile.

"I’m impressed.” He gives you tiny claps, the playful gesture breaking the moment of seriousness. “Speaking of research...I may have one more surprise for you."

"I don't think I can handle anymore surprises," you groan, "can you just tell me what it is?"

"I don't think you know what a surprise is," he laughs rubbing your back, "let me just show you and then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

"That's a lie,” you reply flatly, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. It’s definitely a lie," he admits with a sheepish grin, shrugging like he’s caught red-handed.

Joe takes you to the most unlikely place to reveal a surprise. "Joe...why are we in the bathroom?"

"This is the surprise. Do you see anything different?"

You look around, not sensing anything extremely out of place. Until you see it and tears start pooling in your eyes. "How did you—when did you do this?"

"It's just a little something I put together to make things easier for you when we're home. There's another one in the closet downstairs. I'll move it out so you have easy access when it's time." He pauses, taking a second to collect his thoughts. "I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. I know this is going to be tough on you, and I...I want to feel like I’m helping, even if it’s in a small way."

A postpartum station, not the most glamorous gift in the world, but it was one of the most meaningful things he'd ever done for you. Imagining him sitting in his office or sitting up in bed at night doing all this research to ensure you were comfortable made you want to cry. You never thought the sight of adult diapers, nipple cream, and a portable stool could bring you to tears, but here you were, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind it all.

Joe gently wipes at a tear that slips down your cheek, his expression softening as he says, ‘hey, don’t cry. I want you to have everything you need. You deserve it."

You blink back the new tears threatening to spill over, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you thought of all this. Thank you, Joe.

"Pretty much," he shrugs, giving you kiss on the side of the head. "Just one more thing to check off the list."

"And what's that?"

"Bringing him home and having him here, physically with us."

You laugh, resting a hand on your lower belly, on top of Joe's hand. "Oh yeah...that one minor detail."

“Minor detail?!” Joe grins, his eyes bright with amusement. “I think that’s the main event, babe. Let’s hope I don’t need a stopwatch for that one.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment, “Thank you, Joe. For this…for thinking of everything. If you’re this amazing now, I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

His expression softens, his gaze dropping to your belly as if imagining the tiny life inside. “I just want to make sure you both have everything you need,” he says quietly. He spoke with such quiet certainty that it left no room for doubt—this wasn’t just a job to him; it was everything.

The lump in your throat returns, but this time you let it linger, because this—his quiet devotion, his unwavering effort—is why you fell in love with him. “You’re already doing it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “And you’re doing it perfectly.”

Joe smiles, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now let’s get through the rest of this list before he gets here and turns everything upside down.”

Your laugh echoes through the bathroom, the two of you standing there in the glow of anticipation, knowing your lives were about to change in the most beautiful way.

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

[thesecondhandwoman]

A FLAVORFUL SURPRISE

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: You and Vi have been dating for sometime, and one thing she’s learned is that you are obsessed with chapstick. But when you buy a new one, she decides that she also wants a taste of them, on your lips.

You and Vi had been together for a while now, and one of the things she loved teasing you about was your ever-expanding chapstick collection. It had started innocently enough, but now, every time you went out, you found yourself drawn to new flavors, whether you meant to or not. It was your little guilty pleasure, and Vi knew it all too well.

Today, you came home with another addition: a tropical fruit blend—mango and coconut. You had a soft spot for fruity scents, and this one was calling your name.

Wanting to try it as soon as possible, you pulled it out of your pocket, twisting the cap off and swiping it across your lips.

Vi, who was lounging on the couch scrolling through her phone, noticed the motion and glanced up. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the chapstick in your hand.

“Another one?” Vi smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I swear, your collection’s gonna take over our whole place.”

She sat up, clearly amused. “What’d you get this time?”

You chuckled, feeling her eyes on you as you smoothed the chapstick over your lips. “Mango and coconut. Thought I’d go for something tropical today”

Vi’s playful smirk turned into an exaggerated pout as she folded her arms. “Mango and coconut? Getting bold with your choices, huh?” she teased.

You shrugged, grinning at her. “Gotta keep it interesting, you know how it is. Plus, it was the store's new flavor, so..”

Vi pushed herself off the couch and stepped closer, her gaze never leaving the chapstick. She’d always been curious about your collection, often teasing you about how you had one for every occasion. But today, she seemed especially interested.

“Can I try some?” Vi asked, her voice light and playful. “I mean, you always get new ones, but you never let me try. C’mon, just a little taste?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew she was joking, but the way she looked at you made your stomach flutter. You hesitated for just a moment before handing her the chapstick. “Alright, alright, you can try.”

Vi took it from your hand but didn’t immediately swipe it onto her own lips. Instead, she tugged you closer, her hands gentle but firm on your waist. You blinked in surprise as she pulled you toward her, her warm breath brushing against your face.

“Vi?” you asked, voice suddenly a little breathless. “What are you—”

She cut you off with a mischievous grin, her lips brushing against yours before you could say anything more. The kiss was soft at first, just a gentle press of lips, but the moment you felt her pull you even closer, it deepened, and your breath caught.

Vi’s hand slid to the back of your neck, her touch tender but insistent. You froze for a second, stunned by the sudden shift, but then you melted into the kiss, feeling her warmth, tasting the sweetness of the mango and coconut chapstick on her lips. Your mind raced, short-circuiting in a whirl of heat and surprise.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes glimmered with mischief, and a satisfied smile played at the corners of her lips.

“Mm…” Vi hummed, her voice soft with amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned. It really does taste like mango and coconut. You weren’t just making that up, huh?”

You were still recovering from the kiss, your thoughts scattered and your face burning. “I—I wasn’t making it up,” you stammered, still trying to process what had just happened.

Vi chuckled, her smile never faltering. She leaned her forehead against yours, teasing, “Well, looks like I’ve got more flavors to try then, don’t I?”

Your heart skipped again as you realized she wasn’t done. You could barely form a response, your brain still on overload. “Vi…” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Vi kissed the tip of your nose, her grin widening. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be gentle. But you’re definitely gonna have to share more of your collection with me now.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your mind still spinning from the kiss. The only thing you were sure of now was that, no matter how many chapsticks you had in your collection, there was no flavor you’d ever crave more than Vi’s lips and those sweet kisses they gave you.