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charmandabear · 14 hours ago

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Office Hours: it's so easy to bite with your hands pinned (2/16)

Summary:

After fantasizing about it, Rosalind can't stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ancunín. Maybe Shadowheart is right, maybe she should just do it to get it out of her system.

Pairing: Astarion/named f!Tav Rating: explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter tags/warnings: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v intercourse, blood/blood drinking, creampie/no breeding (full list on ao3)

Yayyyyyy chapter 2! I've been absolutely going through it personally, but your comments and kind words have brought me such joy. My goal will continue to be to upload Sunday/Monday so if I miss a day, I give you full permission to yell at me. (But please be nice, I'm very sensitive.)

Read it on AO3. ~ Masterlist (coming soon.) ~ Office Hours playlist on Spotify.

“Shadowheart, I think I fucked up.”

Rosalind picks at the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup as Shadowheart grabs her latte from the counter. Her best friend’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she fixes Rosalind with a cautious look. They had met six years ago while moving into adjacent apartments. Shadowheart was already working at BGU in the Divinity School, and a few years back she helped Rosalind get an interview with Volo in the theatre department.

“Do I need to kill someone or help you bury the body?” she says with a sly smile, and Rosalind groans, almost too ashamed to admit it. She has complained far too much about Ancunín for what happened last night not to be exceedingly embarrassing.

“No, not that,” she begins, then takes a sip of coffee to brace herself. “You know that snotty Renaissance Lit professor I’ve mentioned?” They tap their phones on the turnstile censor and file through one at a time.

“Yeah, the one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart looks over her shoulder as she asks the question, and she’s treated to Rosalind’s dramatic eye roll.

“I’m not always going on about him,” she grumbles, and Shadowheart’s laugh reverberates off the metro walls.

“You absolutely are, but continue,” she smirks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Okay well let me at least show you what he looks like before I lose service,” Rosalind preemptively defends herself, pulling out her phone and searching for the BGU English department faculty page. She scrolls down to Ancunín’s portrait and turns the screen towards Shadowheart.

It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. Suddenly she gasps and looks at her friend with wide eyes. “Rosalind, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t!” Rosalind shouts, perfectly scandalized. Then, in a much lower voice that ultimately gets drowned out by the roar of a train flying by, she says, “I just thought about it.”

“What?” Shadowheart shouts, pulling her scarf in a little closer to protect herself from the wind cast off by the train.

“I just thought about it!” Rosalind shouts back, wishing she had just waited to speak.

“Thought about what?”

“Fucking him!” Of course, she shouts this last bit just as the train has fully passed, which means everyone else waiting on the platform hears her clear as day. Rosalind hides her flushed face behind her cup, praying that no one from the school is also taking the metro today.

“And?” Shadowheart looks at Rosalind expectantly.

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Rosalind scoffs and looks down the tunnel at the train’s headlights in the distance in order to avoid answering her question for a second longer. “I mean, it was my imagination, so like good I guess?”

“Well sure, but would you want to do it in real life?” As Shadowheart answers, the train comes to a screeching stop and the two of them board, snagging a two-seater as far away from both entrances as possible. Shadowheart pinches her knees together and places her bag delicately on her lap.

Rosalind sighs heavily before answering. “Man, I dunno. I’ve never really been into the idea of hate sex, at least not since Aradin.”

Shadowheart makes a face of abject disgust. “He doesn’t even know how lucky he is that I’ve never been in the same room as him.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more appreciative of having someone so eager to commit murder for me,” Rosalind laughs, putting her hand on Shadowheart’s knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Rosalind looks out the window at the other platforms whizzing by.

“I think you should go for it,” Shadowheart says suddenly, and Rosalind chokes on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” she coughs as she wipes her mouth.

“What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you can just go back to hating him like before, and at least then you won’t need to wonder anymore,” Shadowheart says matter-of-factly. She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described the literal nightmare scenario.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” Rosalind gapes at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” Shadowheart flashes a coffee-stained grin and Rosalind pushes her face away.

“Maybe not, he could be terrible for all we know,” she replies smugly as the train slides into the University stop. They funnel out with the hoard of students and other professors who also get out onto the platform. “Man, Shade, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” Rosalind teases her as they trash their empty coffee cups.

“Listen, you’re closer to getting some than I’ve been in months, it’s not that good out here for most of us,” she groans.

“Hey, if I end up getting lucky, maybe he’s got some pretty colleague he can hook you up with,” Rosalind says with a shit-eating grin and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

Rosalind and Shadowheart split ways in front of the student union, each of them heading to their respective sides of campus. Rosalind goes directly to her office and immediately closes the door — usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary today. She can’t look at his face right now. She can’t possibly look him in the eye.

She spends the majority of the day locked in her office, double checking the hallway before leaving to teach Voice and Speech. She even avoids the main office for fear of running into him there.

When 5:00 rolls around, she takes a peek outside her door to see most of the other professors leaving. To play it safe, she decides to work until six so she can be absolutely sure he’s gone by the time she leaves. She passes the time by absentmindedly grading weekly reflections. It’s only when she realizes that she’s read one paragraph about Miss Julie about a half dozen times, she figures it’s time to leave.

She pokes her head into the hallway, but can’t tell from this angle whether or not his door is closed. She grabs her bag and coat, takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the stairs. It’s only when she approaches his office door that she realizes it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. She can just walk past it and get to the stairs and then she won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice her walk by. It’s fine. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears nonetheless.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as Rosalind passes his door. Are you fucking kidding me? She turns to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even bother looking up at her. Prick.

“Yes?” she asks coldly, not budging from her spot in the hall. He glances up and looks at her over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. Rosalind wants to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

Rosalind takes a tentative step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s somehow warm and inviting. She can barely see the walls from being covered corner to corner in overfull bookshelves. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room — significantly nicer than the university-issued ones. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it, honestly. Two chairs face his desk, but they’re covered in a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave like the ones in Rosalind’s office. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. Rosalind stands still, clutching her bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes she’s not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. She can feel the heat in her cheeks rising. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels her to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk. He leans casually on the edge of it, facing her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Rosalind watches him carefully, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Rosalind blinks at him, the conversation immediately not going in the direction she expected. She still feels so much shame about last night that it takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

He sees the gears turning in her brain and decides to continue. “It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leans back on his hands, stretching out his lithe figure to impossible proportions. Rosalind’s grip on her bag slackens and she can’t help but drag her gaze over the length of his body. He looks back at her quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses. Now it’s his turn to give the once-over, and Rosalind feels practically naked before him with the way he leers at her. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward her, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. She retreats while holding his gaze until her back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s at least a half foot taller than Rosalind, and he looks down on her with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in her face has fully reached the tips of her ears now, and her breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I—” she begins, but it comes out thick and raspy. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” she finally manages with all of the composure she can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t drastically increased in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into her. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter escapes Rosalind as she presses her thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let her respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my piece and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. He’s giving me an out, she realizes. He’s saying that we can both laugh at this as an embarrassing moment and never bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand… Rosalind thinks back on her conversation with Shadowheart and swallows thickly.

“You’re not mistaken,” she manages to choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts her chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command makes Rosalind’s knees go weak and she withers under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” she says more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time she notices two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains why he could track Rosalind’s heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing her roughly, hands twisting in her hair and one knee sliding up between her legs. He pushes her against the door, lifting her up onto her toes. She’s desperate just to keep up as he devours her, her hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment she lets him take her.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away as they both breathe heavily, air cycling between their lungs. Rosalind’s head is full of a thick fog and she can’t see straight. His hands are still in her hair, tight but not pulling — yet. Why do I get the sense that might not last long?

He drops to his knees and she nearly doubles over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of her black denim skirt, inhaling again. Her fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from her fantasy. At this point she’s just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at her, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up her skirt and his thumb runs across her pussy, barricaded by sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” She bites her lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of her tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, she can’t stop the cry from escaping her throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in her ears. Her knees buckle and he grabs hold of her hips, hiking up her skirt to get better access to her dripping cunt. He presses a finger past her panties and slips it into her, and she gasps at the stark temperature difference.

“Gods, fuck,” she groans under her breath, and she runs a hand through her hair as her head drops back against the door. He presses his nose into the flesh of her lower belly, licking and kissing it as he slides in a second finger into her. She can feel her legs beginning to shake as he pumps into her, stretching her out. She grasps the handle of the door trying to brace herself on something. When her hips begin to subconsciously roll against his hand, he yanks his fingers out and she whines at the sudden emptiness.

“Someone’s needy,” he sings as he stands before sucking her arousal off his fingers. He pulls her into another searing kiss and the taste of her lingers on his lips. He grabs her ass and digs his fingers into her flesh, spreading her cheeks until she gasps into the kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up her legs and wraps them around his waist. She yelps in surprise; he’s significantly stronger than he looks.

He carries her over to that incredible mahogany desk, plopping her down on the hardwood and sending books and papers tumbling to the floor. He presses his bulge into her mound, this time the sound of both of their groans mingling pleasingly. He tears at her chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down her chest as she throws her head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing her top, though she’s certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. She can hardly bring herself to care as she paws wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of her. He pulls down the lace cup of her bra with his teeth and starts sucking on her nipple, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She arches into him, his hands working her like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that she pictured last night. Instead, Rosalind has been reduced to shambles, begging for his satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” she stutters, and those devilish eyes lock onto hers again. He snakes his way back up her chest and bites her lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks her stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against her. She squirms, trying to pull him closer but he’s got her arms locked in his grip. His lips leave hers and ghost over the flesh of her neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across her jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from her in return. By all the gods, Rosalind hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement makes it clear that he won’t bite unless she wants him to.

But holy hells does she want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” she gasps, and she’s almost certain she can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get inside me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to her, but she’s well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves her panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into her simultaneously, drawing out her cry of both pain and pleasure. She wraps her legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. She feels his mouth filling up with hot blood just as her cunt fills up with his dick.

His pumps are slow, taking his time as he swallows gulps of her blood. The obscene slurping noise mixed with his heavy breathing and occasional grunts that tickle her ear send her reeling. She’s always had a sensitive neck and more than enjoys the occasional hickey. But this is a whole new level of pain mixed with pleasure. His lips grow warm with her blood and she bucks against him, her whines getting swallowed by his curls. Her hands cup his ears, and she’s unable to stop herself from playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from her neck, looking absolutely feral with her blood dripping down his chin, which only sets her off more.

“Please, I-I need more,” she whimpers breathlessly, angling her hips towards him and trying to get him to thrust faster.

“You eager little thing,” he growls, and the animalistic sound pulls another desperate whine from deep within her. He pushes her back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath her knee high boots, pressing her thighs against her chest. He begins to pound into her properly, sending her hurtling towards climax. She grabs onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching her out as he keeps her feet up by his shoulders. The heat begins to mount in her core and she knows it won’t be long before she comes. But at this point she’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m—” She finishes before her sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks her body, if anything, he fucks into her harder. Just as she’s barely come down from her climax, he pulls out and yanks her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from her back. He pushes her skirt up to her hips and grabs a hold of her ass, his nails digging into the part of the tights still in-tact. He slides into her again with a groan, and already she can tell that she’s working her way up to a second one. Her bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs her hair, pulling her head up and arching her back into him.

She desperately wishes that she could see his face because she can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. She tries to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on her hair remains tight. But even if she can’t see him, she can still hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in her is enough, and her own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and she can feel his climax, setting off a second for her. The throbbing of his cock matches that in her cunt, and she holds onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over her. Once the ripples have settled he pulls out, and she can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down her leg. She silently says a thankful prayer for her IUD.

They’re both panting as he collapses onto her back, planting a half-hearted kiss on her spine. She weakly pushes herself up off the desk and sees the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. She turns around to relish in his appearance. Her blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. She reaches up and wipes the remainder of her blood off his chin. He smirks and gives her a surprisingly gentle kiss.

“That was good,” she murmurs through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #bg3 smut #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x f!tav #bg3 modern au #office hours #smut

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beeealu · 11 months ago

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The dark forces want to wish you...

they even got YOU a present!

da da da daaaa🎶🎶

YOU GOT A:

Gremlin

disclaimer: be careful with this present. Dark Forces ™️ is not responsible of the damages it may cause to any kind of property or beings. Do NOT contact us. Yes he has a sword.

#Happy holidays everyone!!#I hope you've been having a great time #please take this time of the year to rest and maybe take a cup of hot chocolate if you want!#self care is very important #I hope you enjoy the Gremlin #myart #shadow link #four swords #vaati

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noirscript · 3 months ago

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My Valentine

details: yandere!husband x AFAB!reader | Mentions of female genitalia, detailed sexual scenes, breeding,

note: I forgot where I got the image.

Despite the questionable setup and job description of your current job, your husband did not question it and even supported your endeavors. He cook your breakfast on the dot and even prepared your lunch and some snacks.

The warm touch of his soft lips against yours as soon as he sees you, somehow made you guilty of what you're getting yourself into. Truth be told, you haven't told him about the entire truth about your job. Only that you work as an agent.

You let him make an assumption about your job. Perhaps you'll never be able to tell him all about your job.

"Are you sure you still want to work there?" he asked while resting his firm hands on your hips. "I can support us both. We can even start our family and live comfortably."

You smiled as you cup his cheeks. "Val..."

He sighed before pulling away. "I don't really get why you're doing this," he said before meeting your gaze. "It's been two years since we've been married, you even begged me to let you enjoy for awhile before starting our family."

"Val, it's not that! I just..." you sighed. "I want to have my own money. I can't rely on you everytime. It... It doesn't feel right."

You looked up and feared what you've seen. His jaw clenched while his hold on your hips tightened.

"Was it my mother?"

Your brows furrowed. "What, no!"

"My grandma? My sister?" He closed the gap between you two. "Who was it, huh? Who influenced your decisions this time?"

You removed his hands from your body before taking one step away from him.

"Let's... just talk later." You tiptoed to reach his cheek before grabbing your packed lunch.

Maybe it's time to submit your two-week notice.

—

Your husband, Valentin, could get clingy at times. He'll tightly wrap his arms around your body, never missing the chance to feel the warmth of your skin.

It starts with gentle caresses against your skin, then the next thing you knew, you're being screwed and under his mercy for the next hours.

His honeyed voice that you love to hear turns to something deeper as he whispers the nastiest threats you've ever heard from him.

"Gonna make you a mommy... hngg... gonna be round and full..." He buries his face against the crook of your neck as he sensually grind his thick cock against your tight and creaming pussy.

"Pleasepleaseplease... make me cum... wanna cum..." you begged as you claw the arm that's been keeping you in place. "Val... Val... please... cumming..."

"Ah-ah... such a naughty girl." He took a deep breath against your neck before ramming his cock against your tightening pussy. "You don't get to treat me like a toy. I'm not a fucking dildo. You hear that?"

"M'srry... cumming please... please..."

"You're cumming, hm? You're gonna take my cum? All of it? Hm?"

You frantically nodded as you match his movements. It didn't take long until his cum painted your insides.

He nozzles his face against your skin. Peppering kisses against your neck, nipping it at times.

"We're gonna start our family soon..." he whispered while lazily grinding his dick inside you. "You, me, and our baby."

You chuckled. "We've talked about this before, Val..." The sheets rustled as you turn to face him.

"I still want to work. You know, to save up a bit." You pushed yourself up and looked into his eyes. "I also want to spoil them."

"You can spoil them with my card. What's mine is yours too, you know?" He responded while pulling you close to him. "We can have just one child. We'll take care of them. Raise them well..."

"Val... at least give me some time to think about it." You slowly run your finger against his chest down to his abs before barely touching the tip of his erect cock. "Besides... don't you want us to have some more time together?"

You slowly grind your moist pussy against him before he pulled you down with him. He aligned his cock and swiftly penetrated your pussy.

He doesn't hate the idea of getting you all to himself, but still. Your feelings might change once you learn more about him. He's not gonna have that. You're his for eternity, even if that meant having to share you with your child.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere husband #yandere male x reader #yandere male x female reader #yandere husband x reader #yandere husband x you #yandere male x you #yandere male x unwilling reader #yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere fic #dead dove do not eat #tw.dark content

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hoe4hotchner · 2 months ago

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Bakery owner reader x loyal customer hotch

Something with the team finding out about reader and seeing hotch all happy and smiling and whipped for her.

Later them finding out they’re actually dating and penny freaking out 😭😭

Love, Freshly Baked | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bakery owner!reader

CW: Nothing but tooth rotting fluff

WC: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for having this drafted for ages!!! But here it is, and it's super duper cute!!!

The smell of fresh pastries and brewing coffee filled the small bakery every morning, a cozy retreat nestled on a quiet corner of the bustling city. You had been running the shop for a couple of years now, getting to know every regular by name, but there was one customer who had quickly become your favorite.

Aaron Hotchner.

He’d been coming in almost every morning for months, ordering the same thing - a black coffee and a croissant - but it wasn’t just the simplicity of his order that caught your attention. It was the way he always seemed so calm and composed, even when the stress of his job was written all over his face. You weren’t sure what he did - all you knew was he had to wear a suit for the job - but you could tell it wore on him. Still, every time he walked through the door, his shoulders relaxed just a little, and a small smile would tug at his lips when he saw you.

What you didn’t know was that Hotch’s team had noticed this change in him. It started small - an extra cup of coffee in the morning, a slightly brighter demeanor after breakfast - but it wasn’t long before the rest of the BAU picked up on it.

“Anyone else notice how… happy Hotch has been lately?” Emily asked one morning as they gathered around their desks, waiting for the next case.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “You’re right. I haven’t seen Hotch smile this much in… well, ever.”

"Maybe he’s just found a new way to deal with stress. Meditation, perhaps?” Spencer didn't look up from the book he was reading as he answered.

Penelope scoffed, twirling a bright pink pen in her hand. “Please, Reid. Hotch isn’t meditating. Something - or rather someone - has got him smiling.”

The rest of the team exchanged looks, curiosity piqued.

A few days later, their suspicions were confirmed.

It was a slow day at the office, so Hotch decided to take a longer-than-usual lunch break. What he didn’t realize was that his team had quietly followed him to the bakery, determined to find out what - or who - was behind their boss’s newfound cheerfulness.

“Look,” Penelope whispered excitedly from across the street, pointing toward the bakery window. “He’s smiling! He’s actually smiling!”

Sure enough, through the glass, they could see Hotch leaning against the counter, his face lit up in a way they’d never seen before. And then there was you, standing behind the counter with that same soft smile you always gave him.

“Oh my god,” JJ whispered, her eyes wide. “Is that the bakery he always talks about?”

“Looks like it,” Derek said, grinning. “And it looks like our boy is whipped.”

Inside the bakery, Hotch had no idea he was being watched. He was too focused on you - on the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your latest recipe, the way your hands moved with such care as you worked on rolling out the dough. Every morning spent in your presence was like a small respite from the chaos of his job, and he found himself craving that peace more and more as time went by.

You handed him his coffee, and for a moment, your fingers brushed his. The simple contact sent a warmth through him that no amount of caffeine ever could.

“You know, Aaron,” you said softly, your voice carrying the warmth that always made his mornings a little brighter, “you’re going to start running out of excuses to come here if you keep this up.”

Hotch chuckled, a rare sound that you loved hearing. “I’ll think of something.”

As he turned to leave, he glanced back one more time, catching your eye and giving you a smile that was just for you.

Meanwhile, across the street, Penelope was practically bouncing with excitement. “You guys! He’s totally into her! Did you see that smile? We have to find out more.”

A week later, the team got more than they bargained for.

It was a Friday afternoon, and Hotch had just returned to the office after lunch. He was in a good mood, his smile lingering longer than usual. That’s when Penelope burst into the room, holding up her phone like it was a trophy.

“Guys, you are not going to believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice high with excitement.

The team gathered around, eyes wide as Penelope pulled up a photo she’d found online. It was you and Hotch, taken outside the bakery on a sunny day. He had his arm around your waist, and you were looking up at him with a smile that could melt hearts.

“They’re dating!” Penelope practically squealed. “Hotch is dating the owner of the bakery!”

The rest of the team was equally stunned.

“Okay, now it all makes sense,” Emily said, grinning. “The extra coffee, the smiling, the mysterious bakery trips.”

Morgan shook his head, chuckling. “Never thought I’d see the day when Hotch would be this smitten again. It’s nice to see him happy.”

Penelope, however, was still in full freak-out mode. “Oh my god, we have to do something! Maybe throw them a surprise party or - wait, no, that’s too much. But we have to celebrate this somehow!”

As they brainstormed, Hotch walked back into the bullpen, completely unaware of the chaos his relationship had caused among his team. But when he saw the knowing smiles on their faces, he paused.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Penelope couldn’t hold it in any longer. “We know about the bakery, Hotch! And about her!” she blurted out, practically glowing with excitement.

For a moment, Hotch was silent, his eyes scanning the room before he finally let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d find out eventually.”

The team erupted into laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner didn’t mind being the center of attention - because, after all, it was all for a love that made him happier than he’d ever been.

890 notes · View notes

kryptonitejelly · 6 months ago

Note

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x female reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers imagine #not cm #not tg

2K notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 8 days ago

Note

Hellooo! How are you?

Can I please req soft!hotch x shy introvert!Reader? Perhaps, she work at BAU as a secretary or data analysis and hotch was stunned when he first saw her, love at the first sight.

Thank you for reading my req, have a nice day!💗

Aaron can’t help it. He really tries, tries very very hard to resist the siren call but it’s hard.

It’s especially hard because you have an office near his.

Penelope’s bat cave wasn’t to be messed with, and there were two offices near his that were empty that you were willing to move into.

It was good for the BAU but bad for Hotch.

You’re not a bad data analyst, you’re just close.

He’s terrified you’ll figure him out.

“Babe, trust me. It looks good!” He hears you and Penelope talking as you walk in, your boots clicking and clacking on the linoleum as you head to the kitchenette.

Aaron’s confused as to what Penelope was referring to and then he sees you and he understands.

While Penelope likes colourful everything, you seem to have a hard time with the colourful clothes.

You don’t mix patterns, you stick to solid colours. Nothing too loud, but just enough to show your personality.

Hotch has three favourites - a long purple skirt, your sunny yellow dress, and your ruby red tights. You hardly wear the ruby red tights, but he knows it’s a good day when you do.

Today, you’ve got on a new dress, there’s a square collar, holly printed all over it and pretty embroidery on your chest. But it’s your ruby red tights that catches his eyes and does him in.

It pulls him under, the siren song buzzing in his ear as he gets lost in how gorgeous you look.

“Hotch, tell her the dress isn’t horrible.” Penelope says, and Hotch thinks maybe he can give Morgan a heavier stack of reports so he can’t find time to tell Penelope anything.

It’s futile, because he knows they’d find a way.

He takes a sip of his coffee as you start making your tea.

“The dress is lovely. It’s very festive.” You beam, and Hotch feels his chest heat.

In the year you’ve been working here, it became apparent and a well known fact that Christmas was your thing.

“Yeah?” You mumble shyly, Penelope hides a smile as she fills her octopus mug.

Hotch nods, “Have a good day.” He’s out of the kitchenette after that, your eyes trailing after him as you hope your ears aren’t a little red.

“He has the hots for you.” Penelope whispers conspiratorially and you roll your eyes.

You drop a couple sugar cubes in your cup, letting the steam of the hot water warm your face.

“He does not. He’s just polite.”

Penelope scoffs, taking a sip of the scalding coffee. “A ‘have a good day’ from Hotch is basically confirmation that he likes you.”

You put your lunch in the fridge.

“How do you figure?”

Penelope pats your head, “You’ve been here for a year, how many times has he said it to someone other than you?”

You shrug, “I don’t make it a habit of eavesdropping.”

Penelope shakes her head, “The two of you are hopeless! It’ll be another entire year before you figure it.”

You’re more confused than you’ve ever been, but you make it to your office, your perfume trailing into Hotch’s office as you pass by and he knows he’s going to be tormented for the rest of the day.

#aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x black reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x yn #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x shy!reader

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mediumgayitalian · 8 months ago

Text

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

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youunravelme · 2 months ago

Text

reunited

author's note: just a little drabble to make up for my absence. this takes place in the nothing happened in the way i wanted verse about six months after reader and matt get back together (aka stanley cup finals).

summary: you told matt you couldn't make it to the stanley cup finals...and yet here you are

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cursing? pda?

you heard the disappointment in matt’s voice when you told him you couldn't make it to his playoff games. you'd managed to come to a game vs. the rangers, but when the panthers made it to the finals, it was clear that your schedule might not even allow you a week off. but when you looked at the calendar and saw you had an opening before you summer internship, you immediately booked a flight to miami.

everything was set.

until two days before game seven, the flight was canceled.

“matt, i’m so sorry—”

“baby, it’s fine. you can’t control it.”

“i’m trying to look for flights but they're all full.” you could hear the way he tried to stifle his sigh. but you knew him like the back of your hand, you knew how much this meant to him, how close he came last year. and you wanted to be there. you knew he wanted you to be there.

which is why you took your airplane refund (and a little out of savings) and starting looking at rental cars.

in hindsight, making an eighteen hour trip alone was not the smartest decision you ever made, and it surely wasn't a choice matt would approve of if he knew about it. but maybe he'd be so caught up in the post game that he wouldn't ask how you got there.

when you got into the city, taryn was the one who met you at their hotel. she smiled and gave you a tight hug.

“how was the drive? not too bad i hope?”

you gave her a sheepish smile. “i might need another five hour energy.”

she bumped her shoulder with yours. “i’m sure the game will be hyped enough to wake you up.”

“thank you for waiting for me.”

taryn’s laugh was immediately swallowed up by the sounds of traffic, but you felt it just the same. “matt would kill us if we left you to walk to the arena alone.”

“he doesn't know i’m here, does he?”

she shook her head. “we haven’t said a word. but please believe he's done nothing but mope about it.”

you rolled your eyes. “he doesn’t have time to mope, not when winning the cup is so close.”

and it was.

you couldn't remember a time where you'd screamed as loud as you had. your blood was pumping, heart pounding, you were torn between squeezing your eyes shut from anxiety and keeping them focused on the game. maybe after the game, you'd apologize to taryn for holding her arm so tightly, but she was squeezing yours back just as hard.

you watched as they kept the puck in the corner as the clock ran down. the nail polish you'd painted on your fingernails were in fragmented chips on the floor. your eyes kept darting from the jumbotron to the ice, back and forth back and forth.

but the buzzer went off and your boyfriend hopped onto the ice with his teammates. taryn was pulling you into a threeway hug with brady. before you knew it, you were being shuffled out of your seats, down the stairs, and onto the ice.

you were operating on autopilot, sticking close to taryn and brady. you were in the back, behind his parents and siblings, not really focusing on where you were going, only knowing that taryn’s grip was on your wrist.

people bumped into you, cameras were everywhere, yet your gaze was solely on taryn’s red leather jacket. maybe you should've dressed differently, worn something fancier instead of a jersey and jeans. it was game 7 and your boyfriend just won the stanley cup and you probably looked exhausted and there were going to be pictures that would probably live on the wall of matt’s childhood home for the rest of time.

taryn and brady stopped walking which could only mean that they'd found matt. if you could see over brady´s broad shoulders, you might have been able to see the embrace matt gave his mom, then the massive hug he gave his father. you couldn't hear what was being said, but you a glimpse of a red sleeve hug taryn before brady was next.

matt’s arms went around brady’s shoulders, his head peeking over, when the two of you made eye contact for the first time in weeks. his blue eyes widened in shock before he physically shoved brady off of him and out of the way.

“no way!” matt said over the noise before you were being yanked into his arms, lips pressed against his. it was clumsy and mostly teeth, but who could blame either of you? he’d just won the stanley cup.

you pulled away first with matt still chasing your lips until you placed a hand on his chest. “congrats, baby.”

“what're you doing here? i thought you said you couldn't make it! how’d you even get here?”

you smiled sheepishly. “i drove.”

matt’s smile dropped for a moment as he rolled his eyes. he placed a kiss on your forehead and brought you into your chest. “you're an idiot, but i love you.”

“i love you, stanley cup champion.”

he preened for a moment until he realized you'd successfully navigated the conversation back from yourself. “don’t think we won't talk about that later, baby.”

as the celebrations continued, regardless of who came up to him, matt’s hands never left your body. maybe it was the high of winning or maybe it was because you hadn't seen him since game five against the rangers but he wouldn't let you out of his sight. you tried to sneak away to stand with his family while he was being interviewed, but he never let you get far enough. at one point, you were standing just far enough to be out of shot of the camera, but close enough to where he was somewhat paying attention to the reporter interviewing him.

“you sure you don't wanna come with me?” he asked after the last interview.

“matt, i promise she does not wanna go into a locker room with you and your sweaty teammates,” taryn chirped. “i’m sure you can survive without seeing her for a little bit.”

he didn’t look convinced.

“whenever you're finished, i’ll be ready to do whatever you want. i’m here for a week.”

his eyes lit up right before he kissed you again. “fuck yes.”

you laughed and pushed him away. “go celebrate with your teammates, we’ll be ready when you are.”

he glanced over his shoulder at his teammates and then back at you. “i love you.” he started moving backwards but kept his eyes trained solely on you, not a care in the world as to who he was bumping into. “and don't think i’m not gonna say something about you driving eighteen and a half hours.”

he knew the time it took?

“how’d you know how long i drove?”

a familiar smirk graced his lips. “baby, i always know how far you are from me.”

“you’re both sickening,” taryn joked as matt disappeared down the tunnel.

“maybe, but i love him.”

#matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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corroded-hellfire · 2 months ago

Note

Could we perhaps get a blurb/chapter of when Eliza was born - maybe Eddie thinking back that this is so different than how Brittany was, when Y/N got into labor, where they were and how they reacted?

+ could you write about Eliza being born? I would love to see their reactions and eddie helping reader out plss

+ Please, let us in on the labor with Eddie and Reader from "As you wish". Did Y/N curse Eddie out, threatening to kick his ass or did Eddie do a prince Harry (God I hope not) and use all the gas?

I thought this would be a good chance to tell the story of two births of two very important Munsons, ten years apart 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, Brittany, not a warning but the italic sections are flashbacks/in the past

Words: 7.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The blaring wail of Eddie’s alarm clock wakes you up from your night of fitful sleep. It’s hard to remember the last time you had a full peaceful eight hours. The soreness in your lower back and the increasing pressure in your pelvis have been your loyal companions for the past few weeks, determined on not letting you have a moment of comfort.

Next to you, Eddie smacks his hand against the clock. The whining stops and the bed shifts as Eddie rolls over and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Your answering groan makes your husband let out a soft chuckle as he pushes himself up into a seated position. Figuring it’ll be better to get up than continue to lay there so uncomfortably, you roll onto your side and shove yourself up until you’re sitting. A look down at your feet reveals that your ankles are swollen. Again.

“Know what today is?” Eddie asks as he opens his underwear drawer.

“Uh huh,” you hum. The mattress springs squeak as you stand up.

“Think she’ll make her grand entrance today?” he asks.

“Doubt it,” you say through a yawn. “Babies are never born on their due date.”

Eddie strips off his shirt and comes around the bed to give you a proper good morning kiss.

“How you feeling, baby?”

“Peachy,” you grunt. “Gonna go get the boys up.”

Luckily, neither Ryan nor Luke gives you any trouble waking up or getting ready for school. They know how you’ve been feeling lately and have been great about helping you out when they can.

“Bye!” Ryan says as he slips his backpack on.

“Have a good day,” Eddie says, ruffling both boys’ hair.

You press a kiss to the top of their heads and Luke rubs a hand across your swollen belly.

“Be good in there, Eliza!”

A smile grows on your face at his words. They head out the door to the bus stop, Ryan giving you one last wave before you close the door.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Eddie says. He walks over and cups your face in his warm hands. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you assure him.

He nods and presses a sweet kiss against your lips.

“Relax and get some rest.”

“Okay.” You give him another kiss in return. “Have a good day at work.”

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Not even two minutes after Eddie walks out the door, you plop down in front of the television with the remote. The only thing on at this time of day are soap operas, which have started to become an addiction of yours since there’s nothing else for you to do.

Fortunately, one of today’s plotlines is so boring and you predicted the identical twin brother twist a week ago, so you manage to fall asleep. It’s only a cat nap, but you’ll take anything you can get these days.

A different kind of discomfort awakens you this time. Your stomach growls so loudly it feels like it rattles the windows. You rally the strength to get up from the couch, and with a little help from the arms and back of it, you’re standing.

An infomercial for some Chuck Norris Total Gym blathers on as background noise as you walk–or more like waddle–into the kitchen. A peanut butter and banana sandwich has been a go-to for you during this pregnancy—after Luke happily introduced it to you one day over the summer. There’s something about the rich nuttiness and the sweetness of the fruit together between two pieces of bread that makes Eliza very happy in your womb.

Once you’ve got peanut butter spread on both slices of bread, you move to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. The moment your hand touches the yellow peel, you feel a twinge of pain shoot from your lower back, through your tummy, and down into your pelvis. Your hand braces you against the counter as you breathe through the pain.

What the hell was that? You think to yourself. That fucking hurt.

You take a deep breath and grab the banana. As you turn back to your sandwich and peel open the piece of fruit, it hits you.

Were those…contractions? No, you tell yourself, shaking your head. It had to be something else.

“No one ever actually has their baby on the due date,” you say into the quiet kitchen. “Maybe I have to pee again. I swear, this little girl thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”

Once you’re finished up in the bathroom, you head back to finish making your sandwich. But the minute you pick up the butter knife, another stab of pain attacks.

“Oh boy,” you say, one hand dropping the knife and going to your lower back, while the other rests on your bump. “You’re ready to come out, aren’t you? You heard that doctor say ‘October 7th’ and you made a note on a calendar, huh?”

The mental image of the baby in your belly marking the date off on a calendar makes you smile as you waddle over to the phone hanging on the wall. The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Mark speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mark.” You breathe through another twinge of pain. “Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, let me go grab him for you,” Mark says.

“Thanks.”

It feels like an eternity as you hear the phone being put down, shuffling noises in the background, then low murmuring voices, until finally the phone is being moved again and you finally hear your husband’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say. “I, um, think I’m having contractions.”

“You are?”

It’s hard to tell if that’s excitement or urgency in his voice. Probably both.

“Yeah, the first one I just waved off as a fluke. But they’ve happened a couple of times now.”

“Alright, I’m on my way home, princess,” Eddie says, and you can already hear him moving around, starting the process. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “They’re quick and not too close together yet. I’ll start counting when I feel the next one.”

“Good.” The sound of his keys jingling comes through the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.”

A hint of giddiness is already creeping into his tone. He’s wanted a baby girl for so long, and she’s finally ready to make her appearance. You make a mental note to think of Eddie’s excitement anytime a contraction overwhelms you. Of course, you have your own excitement, and lots of it, but seeing Eddie be so truly happy is one thing that could get you through all the pain in the world.

Eddie unsheathes his sword as the azure dragon flies overhead. Too far for him to even reach if he threw his sword. The blood red skies cast a purple shadow on the giant winged creature. But Eddie’s almost there. He can see the tower in the distance, normally not a rough journey, but there’s bound to be something guarding the locked-away maiden.

As he gets closer, Eddie sees that it’s a female Cloud Giant tasked with keeping people like him away. Only the most noble who dare to help the poor young thing locked away.

Eddie picks up speed, his sword at the ready as he approaches the giant, then—bam! Something lands against Eddie’s cheek. He looks up, seeing if the dragon perhaps swooped down to swipe the knight with his tail. But the skies are clear. So, Eddie continues forward. Bam! What the hell is—

Eddie is jolted back into consciousness by his own pillow smacking his face.

“What the…” Eddie grumbles in a scratchy, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?

He rubs his bleary eyes and sees that Brittany is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him.

“Britt?”

Eddie stumbles to his feet and clicks on his bedside lamp before walking around the bed to check on his wife. The first thing he notices is that the crotch of her nightgown and the sheets below her are wet.

Wow, this baby must really be messing with her bladder if—wait.

“Your water broke?” Eddie's voice suddenly has no trace of sleepiness in it.

“Yeah.”

Brittany isn’t looking at him. Instead, she looks down at her hands resting on her large bump.

“Come on, let’s get you changed,” Eddie says, gently slipping his hand beneath one of her arms so he can help her up.

Brittany groans once she’s on her feet and Eddie hurriedly turns towards their dresser and digs for something she can change into.

“Contractions?” Eddie asks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her.

Eddie quickly helps Brittany into her clothes and grabs her already prepared overnight bag from the closet. He slowly leads his wife into the living room so she can rest on the couch while he grabs Ryan.

The twenty-two-month-old is sleeping soundly in his crib. Eddie hates to disturb him, but the ball is already in motion.

“Wha?” Ryan croaks as Eddie scoops him up and holds him against his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he tells his son. “Go back to sleep.”

Ryan thunks his head down on Eddie’s shoulder and immediately begins lightly snoring.

The soft whistle in his ear makes Eddie smile as he steps into the kitchen to use the nearest phone. He quickly dials a number he knows by heart and waits for someone to pick up at the plant.

“Yeah, hi, is Wayne there? Yeah, Munson,” Eddie says into the receiver. He hikes Ryan up a little higher on his chest while he waits for the phone to get passed.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s never been happier to hear that gruff voice.

“Hey! It’s, uh, me. So, Brittany’s water broke and Ryan needs—”

“I’ll punch out right now and meet ya at the trailer.”

God, Eddie loves his uncle.

“Okay, see you there.”

Eddie heads back into the living room and helps Brittany up with one hand while the other keeps a good hold on Ryan. Somehow, Eddie manages to get them both in the car, all buckled and ready to go.

“Whew.” Eddie takes a deep breath in the driver’s seat. He takes one more before he starts the car. “Here we go.”

The moment Eddie walks through the front door, he makes sure you’re sitting down and comfortable. Sitting down? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much.

But you’re content with your peanut butter and banana sandwich as your husband presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Nine minutes apart,” you inform him through a mouthful of peanut butter.

Eddie chuckles at the muffled words.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, then call Wayne so he can be here for when the boys get home.”

You nod and take another bite of your sandwich.

Eddie comes back just as another contraction is starting. You set your plate down on the couch to your right and Eddie takes a seat on the other side of you. One of your hands braces you against the cushion you’re sitting on, and Eddie slips his hand into your free one.

“Just squeeze my hand, okay? And breathe.”

The pulsating wracks your body as you focus on taking in a large lungful of air. You hold it for a few seconds, counting time by the number of gentle squeezes you give Eddie’s hand, then let it out.

“Ugh,” you groan when the pain releases you. You flop back on the couch, tipping your chin up as you try and catch your breath. “That was the longest one so far.”

“We’ll start timing that too,” Eddie says.

He presses a kiss to your cheek before pressing a few to the back of your hands. His hands stall when you let out a deep sigh.

“Do you not want me to be touching you? What do you need?” There’s a shake in his voice that angers you, because you know exactly why and who made him unsure of how to comfort a woman in labor.

“Yes, I want you to touch me,” you say, grabbing his hand in both of yours. “Your touch calms me.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that his shoulders sag in relief before he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Just let me know what you want me to do,” he says.

“This,” you reply, leaning into his arms. Your eyes slip closed as you snuggle up to the warmth of his body. “Want you.”

“I’m not leaving your side, princess,” he assures you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

You nod against his neck and Eddie swipes up the remote. He flips through the channels, but it’s the middle of a Tuesday, so there’s not a whole lot on.

“I can grab a tape or a DVD?” your husband offers.

You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.

“Don’t want you to move. Whatever you find is fine.”

“Alright, well…I guess we’ll watch The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Eddie feels your chuckle rumble against his chest.

“That’s fine,” you say.

It’s only seconds before another contraction starts, and Eddie can tell by the way your fingertips dig into him. This one lasts about as long as the previous one, and you’re able to get semi-comfortable against your husband again.

The house is quiet, the two of you on the couch, watching a movie that neither of you have any real interest in. The low volume only makes the loud pop that echoes through the room even more pronounced.

“My water just…”

“Yes, it did.”

A heavy pause hangs in the air as the two of you stare at one another. It’s obvious you have to get up and get going now, but the realization that this is really happening is sinking in for you both.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out in a whisper.

This breaks Eddie out of his trance. He starts to laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here we go, sweetheart.”

He helps you up off the couch and into your room so you can change clothes. With your husband's help, you slip into a dry pair of sweatpants, an oversized Ghostbusters t-shirt Luke got you when you complained that there were no comfy maternity shirts, and one of Eddie’s hoodies on top of it—even though you can’t zip it up. Your old college backpack has been filled with supplies for weeks, all in preparation for this moment. Eddie slides onto one of his shoulders and walks with you to the front door.

Just as the two of you step into the living room, the door opens. Wayne steps inside and it takes four seconds for his eyes to go from you to Eddie, to the bag hanging on his shoulder, then back to you.

“Thank God you’re here,” you sigh in relief.

If for some reason he hadn’t arrived here before the boys got home, you knew they’d be okay for a while, but you’ll be able to relax more knowing that their grandpa is here with them.

“Heading out to the hospital?” Wayne asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers with a nod. “Her water broke.”

A smile graces the older man’s features, and it softens him.

“You got this, darlin’,” he says as he opens the front door wide enough for you and Eddie to get through.

You shoot him a grateful smile as you step outside.

“We’ll call when we have any update,” Eddie tells his uncle.

Wayne just nods and pats Eddie on the back as he passes. The two of you walk to your car together and Wayne watches from the entryway, not wanting to go inside yet in case he can help in any way.

Once you’re securely in the car, Eddie waves to Wayne before slipping into the driver’s seat. As he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes catch on the car seat that’s been installed for the past two weeks. It brings a smile to his face as he starts the engine.

“Let’s have us a baby,” Eddie says as he shifts the car into reverse.

As soon as you arrive at the hospital, it’s very quick work when Eddie alerts them you’re in labor. You’re brought right to a room and hooked up to lines and so many wires you’re not even sure what they’re all for.

Your doctor shows up not too long after you’re settled into your bed and says you’re not quite ready to push yet. Your contractions are getting closer together, but they’re not quite at the active labor phase yet.

Now after being hurried up to this room and all set up to go, there’s nothing to do. The flurry of activity kept your mind off the pain that was creeping up in intensity each time it snuck up on you. But now that there’s nothing to occupy your mind, it feels like it’s all that fills your head.

“Do you want some pain meds, baby?” Eddie asks, slipping his hand into yours.

He must’ve noticed the way you were gritting your teeth hard enough to wear them down to nubs.

“I can have some?” you ask.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me go get the nurse.”

Eddie is right and the nurse is able to administer some medicine that allows you to relax a little. It takes enough of the edge off that you’re able to focus on and appreciate Eddie’s attempts to distract you from the pain and boredom.

Your husband had prepared ahead of time and had slipped his battered and well-loved copy of The Two Towers into your overnight bag. He now brings the story to life for you, reading with such passion, and doing different funny voices for the different characters.

“‘Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours,’” Eddie reads to you. “‘But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’”

Then it’s time for the doctor to check how dilated you are and the timing of your contractions. It’s still not time, she tells you with a sympathetic smile before heading out to attend to other patients.

Now, Eddie finds a pile of old magazines and newspapers strewn about a small table in the corner. He picks up an outdated print of the Washington Post at random, sits in the chair he’s positioned near your head, and begins to read a news article in an over-the-top news anchor voice.

“The first musical number epitomized the kind of commercialized outrageousness that MTV has perfected in recent years. It featured Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, decked out in white wedding ensembles in a homage to Madonna, who famously wore a wedding dress on MTV's first Video Music Awards broadcast in 1984, when she performed ‘Like a Virgin.’ Madonna appeared dressed as a groom, and the number, which also briefly featured Missy Elliott, provided the evening's first gyrating rumps, as well as a truly yechy moment: The sight of oversexed old Madonna tongue-kissing oversexed young Spears. It didn't seem outrageous or sultry; it smacked of desperation.”

“Such outrage,” you joke with a shake of your head.

“Kids today,” Eddie says with an over dramatic sigh. “All their music is just noise.”

You giggle and reach for his hand. He gladly takes it and laces his fingers with yours.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

“I’m good,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “My wonderful, loving husband is doing a great job of keeping me entertained.”

A smile that can only be described as adoring grows on Eddie’s face. He leans forward and presses kisses to your knuckles.

“Anything for you.”

By the time the hospital staff gets Brittany up to her room and hooked up to all the equipment, the doctor says it’s not long before she can start pushing. Which also means that there’s no time to give her any drugs—no matter how much she begs.

“Ugh! This sucks,” Brittany complains once it’s just her and Eddie in the room.

“I know,” Eddie says.

“Do you?” she snaps back.

“I mean, I…” Eddie stutters over his words. “I was there when Ryan was born. I know the pain you were in then.”

“At least they were able to give me something for pain then. Now I can’t even get a fucking Tylenol.”

“Do you want to talk about something to keep your mind off it?” Eddie offers. He scoots his chair up to the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Brittany’s blanket-covered thigh.

“Fine,” the blonde grunts out. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Um…what about middle names? We haven’t decided yet.”

“Didn’t we?” Brittany sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No,” Eddie replies. “Just first names. Luke for boy, Lucy for girl.”

“Fine. So, Ryan’s middle name is after your uncle because you just had to do that,” Brittany rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “What about from my family?”

“What names do you like?” Eddie says between clenched teeth. She's having my baby, she’s having my baby, she’s having my baby, he reminds himself over and over again.

“Anatoly,” Brittany says. “For a boy.”

“Luke Anatoly Munson.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at how the name sounds out loud. “I don’t think that goes.”

“Fine.” Brittany’s silent for a moment as she considers other names. “Andrei?”

Eddie internally sighs. He’s always thought it was cool that much of Brittany’s family emigrated from Russia, but the land’s native names don’t flow well with “Luke Munson.”

“Aleksandr,” Brittany suggests, pulling Eddie out of his own head.

“Huh.”

Eddie leans back in his chair, letting the name roll around his brain. It's a good one, he thinks. But…

“Should we use the American spelling?” Eddie asks.

“Why, so he can be named after your dad?” Brittany bites out.

The room is silent as Eddie furrows his brow. He shakes his head in confusion as a nurse steps in to check on the monitors Brittany is hooked up to.

“That’s not…Britt, that isn’t my dad’s name.”

“What?” Brittany stares at her husband as if he has three heads. “Of course it is.”

“People called him ‘Al’, yeah,” Eddie starts. “But his full name is Alan. Not Alexander.”

“Oh.” Brittany waves a hand dismissively as if not knowing her husband’s dad’s name after years together is nothing—a common mistake, even.

Eddie shakes his head, shoving the irritation to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be plenty of time later to be annoyed by Brittany’s ignorance and apathy. After the baby is born.

The tension grows in his neck, so Eddie rolls his shoulders and leans back in his chair.

“So, Luke Alexander Munson for a boy?” Eddie checks.

“Sure,” Brittany says as another contraction washes over her. The way her eyes squeeze shut so tightly and her teeth clench with a vengeance pangs Eddie’s heart.

“And for a girl,” Brittany grits out, obviously trying to talk through the pain in an attempt to ignore it, “Lucy Alexandra Munson.”

“That’s pretty.”

Eddie goes to take his wife’s hand as her body relaxes from the fading contraction. But Brittany snatches her hand back.

“Please, just don’t…touch me.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Eddie barely has time to feel the sting of rejection before the doctor is back in the room to check on Brittany’s progress.

“Good news,” the doctor announces. “You’re dilated enough. It’s time to start pushing.”

“Oh boy,” Brittany mutters, trying to garner strength from her exhausted body.

The room is a flurry of activity as nurses prepare everything the doctor might need.

Eddie stands and goes to reach for his wife’s hand before remembering she doesn’t want to be touched. But as another contraction wracks her body, Brittany reaches up and grabs his hand. It brings a small smile to Eddie’s lips, despite how hard she’s gripping it because of her pain.

“Alright, Brittany,” the doctor says as he gets into position at the end of the bed, “we’re going to try pushing now.”

“We?” Brittany barks out in a strained and breathless laugh.

“Well, mostly you,” the doctor teases as a nurse goes to stand on Brittany’s other side, opposite of Eddie.

“Alright, honey,” the nurse says, putting one hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Push when the doctor counts to three.”

“One, two…”

He doesn’t even get to three before Brittany starts squeezing the life out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie just clenches his teeth and takes it though, willing to soak up any pain that he can from his wife.

“Jesus, fuck!” Brittany shouts through her pushing. Her face is already sweaty, matting hair to her forehead. Eddie’s quick to brush it away with his free hand.

“You’re doing so good, Britt,” Eddie encourages. “You’ve got this.”

Brittany nods, either in acknowledgment of his words or just because she wants him to shut up.

“Almost there, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says.

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. When Ryan was born, they were at it for a while before he decided to make his grand entrance into the world. People had told him that second babies tend to come out quicker, but Eddie didn’t know this one was practically banging down the door to get out.

“This one’s got some mettle,” Eddie says.

“Just like Dad,” Brittany grits out and it takes Eddie a second to get her joke.

Mettle, metal? He got it.

Eddie huffs a laugh, honestly impressed by her ability to come up with a joke while she’s trying to pass a human being through her body.

“Okay, now just one more biiig push,” the doctor says.

“Come on, hun,” Eddie cheers, bracing his hand against Brittany’s as she channels everything in her to push.

“Almost there, almost there…” the doctor repeats.

Suddenly the shrill sound of an infant wailing fills the small room. It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding the newborn up enough for the parents to see.

Brittany drops Eddie’s hand out of pure exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her face as she drops back against the pillows. The baby is handed to a nurse for initial cleanup.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie says softly to Brittany.

She tilts her head up and gives him a sleepy smile.

The softness in her gaze has Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Surprisingly, she kisses him back.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” the doctor asks.

“Yes,” Eddie responds before the doctor can even finish the question.

He walks down to the foot of the bed and takes the pair of scissors to the umbilical cord, snipping it in two. Eddie hands the scissors back blindly, as his eyes never leave his newborn son. No detail escapes his notice as he watches a nurse gently take him and lay him on Brittany’s chest.

“Oh, hi,” Brittany says, one hand covering the entirety of his little back.

Eddie comes back up to the head of the bed and beams down at his wife and baby. Brittany glances up at him, then back down.

“Look at this beautiful boy,” Eddie coos.

Brittany chuckles and Eddie leans down to kiss her head, then the newborn’s.

“Beautiful little Luke,” Brittany says.

A nurse takes him back to fully clean him up and swaddle him in a soft white blanket.

“You want to hold him?” the nurse asks Eddie.

“Yes.” Eddie nods emphatically and holds out his arms.

The moment the gentle weight lands in his arms, Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Hi, my boy.”

“To place a call outside of the hospital, please press nine.”

Eddie does as the automated voice tells him and leans back in his chair. You let your head loll to the side, the scratchy pillow brushing against your cheek as you watch your husband. This brief respite from contractions allows you to smile when you hear the echo of Ryan’s voice come from the phone.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, grinning as well. “How was school?”

“Good! Isthebabyhereyet?”

His eagerness makes Eddie chuckle.

“No, no baby yet. Just figured I’d check in with you guys.”

“What he say?!” Luke shouts in the background.

“No baby!” Ryan tells him.

The phone shuffles back and forth before Luke says, “Just share it!”

“Uh, you both there?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah!” they say at the same time.

“Did you ask—”

“Not yet, I—”

Eddie tilts his head to the side as they bicker. He somehow deciphers that they want to talk to you.

“You can talk to her if you hush up and behave.”

Both boys fall silent at that. There’s a small pause before Ryan says, “Okay.”

“Good.” Eddie nods and hands the phone over to you.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” two young voices call at the same time.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks.

As if his question summoned it, a contraction rears its ugly head. Your forehead furrows as you try to ignore it and focus on the conversation with the boys.

“I’m doing okay.”

“Do you hurt?” Luke asks.

Your free hand bangs against the bed rail in an attempt to keep from shouting in pain. Eddie sits up straighter in his chair, concern filling his eyes. He motions to the phone, silently asking if you want him to take it back.

“Little bit,” you grit out to answer Luke while shaking your head to answer Eddie.

“Did they give you any medicine?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah, a while ago. So, uh, what did you guys do at school today?”

“Nothing really,” Luke says. “Oh, you and Dad have to come down to the school and get the meat thermometer.”

“The what?” you ask.

“The meat thermometer.”

“Luke, what are you talking about?”

Eddie looks at you, questioningly, and you shrug your shoulders.

“Me and my friend Kevin wanted to test the temperature of the cafeteria hot dogs, so I brought the meat thermometer. But then we got caught and the lunch lady took it. So now you need to get it.”

“You did what?” You hear Wayne’s muffled shout.

“We wanted to make sure it was safe!” Luke defends.

The contraction finally releases you and you’re able to relax as much as you can in the lumpy hospital bed.

“What about you, Ry?” you ask.

“I didn’t care how hot the meat was,” he says, completely serious.

You laugh and it helps your body wash away that lingering whisper of pain.

“No,” you say. “What did you do at school today?”

“We have to write papers for history class, and we started today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the paper on?” you ask, trying to think of anything except the next contraction.

“Everyone got assigned some kind of job we have to study. I got dentist.”

“And what did you learn today?” As much as Luke’s shenanigans can keep you entertained, they can also stress you out. But Ryan loves to go into detail about what he’s working on at school and this shall hopefully provide you with a relaxing distraction.

“Uhh…” Ryan hums as he thinks. “The first dental school in America was founded by Horace H. Hayden and Chaplin A. Harris.”

“When?” you press.

“1840. In Maryland, in case you were gonna ask!”

It’s impossible not to smile at how well the boy knows you.

“Good job, Ry,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

The beginnings of a new contraction appear, and your fingers tighten around the phone receiver. You spy your doctor out in the hallway and use it as an excuse.

“Alright, boys,” you start, “my doctor is coming so I gotta go, okay? Daddy will call when there’s an update.”

“Okay,” Ryan says.

“Love you!” Luke adds.

“I love you both, too.

Eddie hangs up the phone for you just as your doctor actually does walk into your room.

“How are we feeling Mrs. Munson?” she asks you.

You’ve been “Mrs. Munson” for eight months now but it still gives you butterflies every time you hear it.

“Contraction-y,” you tell Dr. Hahn.

She chuckles and nods her head in understanding.

“That makes sense, you know, with the contractions and all.” She tugs two medical gloves out of the box marked “medium”. “Alright, I’m just gonna check how your dilation is going.”

As you lay back to let the doctor do her thing, Eddie leans forward and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Should I be concerned about whatever it is that Luke did now?” he asks.

“I think it’s okay,” you say with a chuckle. “Apparently, you just have to go to school to pick up a meat thermometer he brought to check the temperature of the school hot dogs.”

Eddie stares at you, his face almost as blank and emotionless as you’ve ever seen it. You can practically see his brain attempting to digest this information, but it thinks it’s reading the data incorrectly.

“He what?” Eddie finally asks.

Luckily, Dr. Hahn saves you from admitting you have no idea what goes on in the mind of Luke Munson.

“Well, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says, “the time has arrived. You’re fully dilated now; time to start pushing.”

You’ve known all along that you’d have to do this—hell, you’ve known it for about eight months now—but the reality of actually pushing a person out of your body is sobering. How did this moment finally arrive? Weren’t you and Eddie just sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test? And now you’re supposed to start pushing? You feel as if you’ve had no time to prepare. Prepare for this labor, prepare for taking the baby home, prepare to be a fully-fledged mom to a newborn.

A moment of serenity washes over you as your mind reminds you of one important factor, though: this is your and Eddie’s baby. You are bringing a child into this world that is half you and half the man you love. A baby who is the product of the love that you both easily fell into and fought like hell to make work. Suddenly, labor doesn’t seem so bad. It may hurt, but to you it is a privilege and honor to bring this little girl, and everything she stands for, into the world.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” you assure him with a small smile. “I’m ready to meet our baby.”

The infectious grin that spreads on Eddie’s face warms your heart and gives you a boost of strength to get this show on the road.

Eddie stands up as Dr. Hahn gets everything situated. He slips his hand into yours and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’m right here with you, princess,” he says softly. “You’re the strongest woman—no, person I know.”

His words have your eyes filling with tears and the hormones certainly aren’t helping.

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, here comes another contraction,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitors that you’re hooked up to. “We’re gonna try pushing on this one, Mrs. Munson, okay?”

“Okay.”

The wobble in your voice is clear. Eddie presses a kiss to the back of your hand. Just as his lips brush your skin, you feel the now-familiar pressure that precedes a contraction.

“Oof,” you groan as the intensity increases.

“Alright, now…push,” Dr. Hahn instructs.

You take the deepest breath that your pain will allow, grit your teeth, and clutch your husband’s hand as you begin to push.

“Great job, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Keep it going.”

And it does keep going. And going. And going.

But fifty-three minutes later, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

Shrill, high-pitched wails fill the room, and you immediately begin sobbing.

“Here she is,” Dr. Hahn says, holding her at an angle you can see. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

Even covered in vernix and blood, your new daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. A nurse places her on your chest, and the moment you feel that skin-to-skin contact with her, you’re done for. She already has you wrapped around her little finger.

The newborn continues her cries, escalating to a new pitch every time she gets another lungful of air. It’s as if she’s a royal, informing all her subjects of her many woes.

Eddie leans in and kisses your lips, the tears on your face mingling with the ones on his. When your husband pulls back to stare at his baby girl, his face is filled with awe and adoration.

“She’s here,” he whispers to no one in particular.

“Do you want to cut the cord, Mr. Munson?” Dr. Hahn asks.

Eddie reaches for the scissors a nurse is holding out to him and he has them in his hand before you could say “Ryan and Luke’s new baby sister.”

This is Eddie’s third time doing this, so he knows right where to line the scissors up even before Dr. Hahn instructs him. Eddie severs the cord and a nurse takes the baby so she can have a proper cleaning.

Neither your nor Eddie’s eyes leave the newborn as she’s swaddled up in a nice warm blanket.

“Do we have a name yet?” The nurse asks as she slides a pink hat onto the tiny baby’s head.

“Eliza,” you say proudly. Tears fill your eyes at the sound of her name out loud. Out loud now that she’s here. This precious little bean that’s been growing inside of you for so long is finally here, a real little person you get to hold and love on.

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says, the same emotions that you’re going through reflecting in his voice.

“Well, Dad,” the nurse says as she picks up Eliza and turns towards Eddie. “Would you like to hold your baby girl Eliza?”

Your husband nods emphatically, reminding you of Luke when he’s asked if he wants to go to the toy store. The nurse gently transfers Eliza to her father’s arms, and you watch as his face morphs as he holds his daughter for the first time.

“H-Hi, Eliza.” Eddie sniffs and clears his throat, trying to shove the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I can’t believe that I actually have a daughter.” Slowly, Eddie leans in to press his lips to her soft, smooth forehead. Eliza coos and her face scrunches up adorably. “You wanna know something, Eliza? You have the best mommy in the world. And now I have the two most perfect girls in the world.”

Eddie looks up at you with a gentle smile. Tears are falling down your cheeks so rapidly that it feels like you’re playing whack-a-mole as you try to wipe them all away.

Your husband stands next to the bed and nods at you, signaling for you to ready your arms for the baby. You gladly accept the warm little bundle, and more tears begin to cascade as you gaze down at her gorgeous little face.

“Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy.” Saying the words aloud sounds odd to your ears. Sure, you’ve basically been a mother to Luke and Ryan for years now, but you never introduced yourself to them as “mommy.” But that’s what you are, from Eliza’s first breath, you’re her mom for her entire life.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He reaches down and rubs a warm hand against your shoulder.

“I’m wonderful,” you say. “It’s weird, though. Having Eliza from this very first moment of her life, I now wish even more that I could’ve known the boys as soon as they came into the world.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Trust me, princess. This has been the least dramatic and stressful of all the kids’ births.”

You chuckle as well, and the sound seems to tickle Eliza. Her tiny head moves from side to side slowly, as if she’s shaking her head no in slow motion.

“I can’t wait for them to meet her,” you say.

“Guess I need to make a phone call home.”

The door to the hospital room clearly needs some oil as it squeaks open. Wayne steps inside, a curious Ryan in his arms. The almost-two-year-old gazes around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the unfamiliar equipment.

“Hey, you!” Eddie says as he takes the little boy from his uncle. “Did you have a good day with Grandpa?”

“Yep,” Ryan says, still taking in his new surroundings. “Play catch.”

“You played catch?” Eddie asks, his pitch rising in that faux excitement adults use when talking to young children.

“Uh huh!”

“That sounds like fun. Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re a big brother now,” Eddie tells him.

“Baby?” Ryan asks.

“Yes! Mommy had the baby. Do you want to meet him?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, trying to look around his dad’s head to catch a glimpse of his mother. She comes into view as Eddie turns and walks towards the hospital bed, where Brittany is cradling a sleeping Luke.

Eddie gently sets his older son down on the bed next to his mom.

“Hi, Ryan,” Brittany says softly. “Come here, look at the baby.”

Cautiously, Ryan shuffles forward and peers at the blanket-wrapped bundle.

“This is your little brother, Ry,” Eddie says. “You guys are going to be best friends.”

“Do you want to hold him, Wayne?” Brittany asks, fighting back a yawn.

“‘Course.”

Brittany carefully hands him over, and Wayne looks down at his new grandson in absolute wonder.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest baby?” Wayne says to Luke.

As the older man cradles the baby, Ryan stands up and taps his dad’s arm. Eddie hums in question and raises his eyebrows at the toddler.

“Up, up,” Ryan says, holding his arms up.

It melts Eddie’s heart that Ryan wants to be held up next to his new brother. The room is quiet, save for the echoes of hospital sounds drifting in.

Luke starts to squirm, unable to move much in his swaddled state.

“Britt?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at his wife. “Do you have the pacifier?”

“Oh, yeah.” The blue pacifier that Luke has already shown an affinity for is on the bedside table, and Brittany hands it to her husband, who pops it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Luke calms back down, sucking furiously as he slips back into sleep.

Ryan leans over as far as he can in his dad’s arms, peering down at his brother in awe.

“My baby,” Ryan declares.

The adults in the room chuckle.

“Can you say hi to Luke, Ryan?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down the elder boy’s back.

Ryan grins, his adorable baby teeth on display. He’s mesmerized by the new family member, and it fills Eddie with a warmth he’s never felt before. Ryan tries to lean over even more, wanting to be as close as possible.

“Hi, Luke!”

The comfortable quiet in the hospital room cocoons you, your husband, and your daughter as you all lounge in the bed. Your head rests on Eddie’s shoulder while Eliza sleeps soundly in his arms. Both of you are just staring at her, already completely wrapped around her little finger.

“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like her mom,” Eddie replies, just as quiet.

“Her mom needs a shower,” you say. “Badly. I feel all gross after getting all sweaty.”

“You still looked gorgeous, even giving birth.” Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair.

The slight movement causes Eliza to fuss, wiggling like a little worm in her father’s grip. Her whines hurt your heart.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie coos. He lays his head against yours.

Eddie begins to hum, and you quickly recognize the song as Sweet Child O’ Mine. All it takes is a minute of her dad’s soothing tone to lull the baby girl right back to sleep.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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reallyromealone · 10 months ago

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Can you do a long fic where bakugou has a baby brother like maybe 2 years old?

Title: sibling bonding

Fandom:my hero Academia

Warnings: male reader, baby reader, fluff, big brother Bakugo, soft Bakugo

Notes: I can't promise a long fic as my fic lengths are based off of how much steam I have but ill write what I can

☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️

Bakugo was happy to have the house mostly alone, his parents in Milan for two weeks he had off for a fashion show.

Why was he mostly alone?

Well they couldn't take his little brother, the two year old didn't do planes well and it was just easier to find a sitter or let him stay with someone for the time, usually their aunty. "Uh-oh" (name) said as he dropped his sippy cup carefully lifting it back up before wandering to his brother "ka!" He said happily as he climbed onto the couch "what squirt?" Katsuki said to the young tot who looked at his phone "what do?" He asked as Katsuki got notifications from discord "I'm texting a few friends, they're coming to visit later for a movie" he was always so soft with his brother, sure he was loud as the rest of his family but his baby brother took more after their dad so he always tried to be gentle.

"Oovee?" He asked curiously and Katsuki nodded "yeah a movie, we gotta get some snacks for you and me before it" he said to the boy who smiled "cake!" "No cake but we can get you a cake pop when we get our walk home drink" Katsuki knew how to compromise with the boy who clapped his hands excitedly.

Katsuki helped (name) put on his shoes before putting him on his shoulders, it was easier to do than hold his hands and (name) got to have fun.

The two went to the convenience store as (name) pointed to various snacks, Katsuki having to hinder the boy with the fact he wanted /everything/ the store had to offer but did compromise with some ice cream and little treats for after dinner and such.

"Cake!" (Name) was absolutely thrilled when Katsuki handed him a cake pop, the teen holding the snacks with one hand and had (name) on his hip as they walked home, (name) eating his treat contently, the boy taking a sip from their drink occasionally.

(Name) loved helping his brother, the tot getting to help put things together for the hang out "you get to watch a movie then it's bath time alright?" Katsuki said to his brother who did a little dance before running off to go play with his toys 'weird kid' Katsuki thought fondly as he finished prep.

"YOOOO BAKUBRO!" Kirishima said as he and a few other classmates entered the Bakugo house, Kaminari whistling at how nice it was inside "whose ready to paaaarty!" Mina said as her, ochaco and Momo came inside with snacks "let's watch some scary...shoopuff" mina halted when she saw the two year old in Katsukis arms, little (name) looking curious but recognized Kirishima from a few visits "little man!" Kirishima ran and grabbed the boy and lifted him "what's up!"

"Hiiii!"

"Whose the kid?" Kaminari asked as (name) spoke nonsense to Kirishima but it was probably his day if any context about "walk" and "cake pop" were to go off of "that's my brother" Katsuki said gruffly, a slight glare on his face as his friends looked at the babe curiously.

During the movie, the teens would notice Bakugo would be soft with the boy even when he scolded him "oi, leave that alone" "but you're smelly!" (Name) argued back, holding a book in his hands "put it down and park your ass and watch the movie or its night time" Bakugo said to his brother who huffed but complied "you're not my favorite brother anymore!"

"Ah? And who is?"

"Dad!"

The movie went on well, the group putting on a hero movie and before they knew it, it was (name)s bath time "bubububbub!" (Name) was pleased with the bubbles as he played with his toys, his older brother working around him to wash him "head back" the teen said gruffly as he put a visor on the boys forehead and rinced out the shampoo before repeating it with the conditioner "kaa! Ducky!" The boy squirted some water at his brother who rolled his eyes "wanna see something cool?" He asked his little brother who looked curious "ya!'

Katsuki put his hand in the water and activated his quirk, just enough to give a jacuzzi affect "whoa!" The boy said excitedly as Katsuki pulled his hand out "now, out ya go!"

"Nooo!"

"None of that! Come on, let's brush your fucking teeth and get you to bed brat"

(Name) cuddled into his brothers shoulder as he wore his fuzzy pajamas, the other teens waving him goodnight as Katsuki brought him to his bedroom and tucked him into bed "hah? What's this?" Katsuki held up a small handmade plush of him in his hero suit "Die'ite!" (Name) grabbed the plush and Katsuki felt a small smile creep on his face as his little brother hugged the toy "he a hero you like?"

"He's the bestest!"

#bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x male reader #bakugo x male reader #male reader #x male reader #child reader #baby reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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delusional-day-dreamer · 5 months ago

Text

Party Girl P - p.b

‣ Clingy Drunk Paige Bueckers x Reader (inspired by our favorite girl partying on Ice's live on 06/24/23)

‣ wc: 1476

‣‣ Synopsis: r and paige were roommates freshman year of college due to a mixup between the wbb team and wsoccer team and started their secret relationship as Paige recovered from her sophomore year injuries. (highkey might write more fics about this????) Up until now they've been able to keep their one-year ish relationship a secret, despite the rumors circulating the internet about the two of them.

‣‣‣ a/n: this is my first time writing a fic ESPECIALLY dialogue, not just on tumblr but like as a whole so any suggestions on my writing is highly welcome (you guys have no idea how hard x reader was to write because it was so confusing to write and kept breaking my brain bc i've NEVER done second pov) and also, the live’s timeline in this fic is not super accurate because it's lowk inspired by that one clip of paige and azzi maybe? kissing but i couldn’t find the whole video (i also just didn’t have the brainpower) so please bear w me 🙏🙏

You made your way over to Ice, leaning over shoulder with the sole intent of taking a sip of her drink. Before you could grasp the cup however, she slightly nudged you, drawing your attention to the live she had streaming from her phone.

“Oh my gosh I didn’t even notice yall, what’s up live,” You forgot about the drink as you rested your arm and chin on Ice’s shoulder, giving a small wave to greet the hundred people watching you from Ice’s screen. You were at Ted’s, the local bar, partying with the uconn women’s basketball team. Despite being part of the soccer team yourself, you were close friends with the entirety of the wbb team since your freshman year, growing even closer when you and Paige began dating last year.

You nodded your head and sang some of the lyrics to the music playing, silently reading the comments slowly rolling in and only addressing the more appropriate ones, despite being slightly tipsy you still had majority of your media training intact. You answered a few questions about random things while recharging your social battery with Ice, thanking those who gave compliments on your outfit or hair and stifling your laughs at the comments addressing Azzi drinking in the background or Paige yelling about shots.

Thinking of Paige, you realized you hadn’t seen your girlfriend in a few minutes as you perked your head up to look for her.

The entire team knew the two of you were practically attached at the hip in general, making it nearly impossible for anyone to separate your drunk clingy selves from each other. You parted ways with Ice, wrapping your arm around the shoulder of your slightly taller girlfriend as you also reached for a shot off the bar top in front of the two of you.

Paige turned her head to the side as her arm wrapped around the sliver of exposed skin on your waist. "Hey baby I missed you" her slight intoxication showing in her voice as she leaned in to kiss your jaw in greeting. Her face was flushed and you could feel the heat radiating off her body as you settled into her embrace, her hair tickling the back of your neck as you conversed with the girls around you.

You remained in her arms for the short time you danced, sang, and drank with Paige, KK, Azzi, and Kayla, the younger girls hanging out on the other side of the bar with Aubrey, either on their phones or talking to each other as they weren’t old enough for the bar to serve them. You excused yourself from the group as you ordered a dirty shirley from the bar and made your way back over to Ice, wanting to rest your feet for a few moments and have your favorite drink in peace.

"Hey guys your favorite is back!" You weren't a lightweight by any means, usually being able to hold your drinks well, but the night had clearly made you a little louder and outgoing as you rapidly began flipping through random conversation topics with Ice and the live. It had only been a minute or two before you had exited the live's view after discarding your leather jacket over the chair and setting your drink on the table in front of you to head further in the corner of the bar to text a few of your soccer friends back on your phone as you leaned against the wall.

Paige came up behind Ice as she wrapped her arms around Ice's neck while singing to the phone, knowing that if you had removed yourself from the camera's view it was to have a few moments of peace and privacy while on your phone. She sang the rest of the song with Ice before leaving her to walk over to your standing figure, leaning against the wall next to you and pulling your body in front of her as you closed your phone and looked up at her. She wrapped her arms around your waist once again, but this time without your jacket acting as a barrier between your two bodies.

"Mmm, you smell so good baby," Paige mumbled as she laid sweet kisses up your neck, drawing small circles up and down your bare waist to your skirt-covered hip. Her small touches only added to the warm fuzzy feeling in your head, having you melt into her touch.

"Thank you P," you giggle softly while tilting your head slightly upwards so you could see her properly, "You having fun out there?" you smile at the grin that spreads across her face.

"It's been a while since we've all been able to go out together, it's nice spending time with everyone outside of practice, especially with you," she says the last part while gently knocking her forehead into yours.

It was true, the two of you had been so busy with your respective sports, finals, and social lives that you hadn't been able to go out and truly enjoy a stress and carefree night, especially considering the fact that your relationship was a secret to everyone outside of your teams and close friend group.

"Yeah well, we'll be able to spend a lot more time together now, starting tonight," you whisper into her suggestively while trying to contain your wide smile. Paige pulled back to allow her eyes to roam over your face before slowly trailing down the rest of your body.

"That, we most definitely will," She whispered back as she gripped your hips to pull you in for a slow and languid kiss, your hands automatically moving to rest one on her neck and one into her hair, kissing her back slowly.

"OH SHIT, I mean shoot, um anyways," The two of you pull back from your kiss at Ice's exclamation, looking over at her and Aubrey, who was now standing in the middle of you three, to see what was wrong. She muted the live and turned the camera over from her face as she waved you both over frantically. "I accidentally turned the camera to Aubrey and you guys were in the background but I don't think the live saw your guys's faces like actually kissing, it was mostly just paige's back and a bit of you and I'm not sure if," her frantic ramble continued on before you stopped her.

"It's fine, it's fine, if they didn't actually see my face and us two actually kissing it'll be fine, just ignore it," You reassured her, immediately feeling more sober than just a few minutes prior. "Paige and I will just go back over to some of the other girls and you can come over to us with the live to say bye and we'll just pretend it didn't happen okay?" You concluded to her while grabbing Paige's hand and interlinking your fingers.

"That's fine with you right P?" You turned to her, making sure she was okay with potentially just being outed on a tiktok live. "Yeah it's not a big deal, don't stress too hard Ice," she reassured while squeezing your hand. You walked away from your two friends hand in hand to stand at a quiet spot at the bar, making sure to double check again with Paige, but now without Ice and Aubrey present in the conversation.

"Are you sure you're alright Paige? I know you wanted to keep this a secret for a while longer and it's okay if you're not comfortable with our relationship being out in the open like this and," Paige cut you off before you could continue.

"Hey hey, as long as I'm with you, everything is okay," she looked you in the eye as she consoled you, "We can talk about what we wanna do about the public knowing moving forward, but for right now, I'm content just being here with you."

You smiled at her, your anxiety relieved that the incident wasn't something that would negatively impact the stability and peace your relationship with Paige had. You leaned forward into her body, allowing her arms to encircle you in a comforting and tight hug as she kissed the top of your head gently.

It was safe to say the rest of your time spent at the bar with Paige was more relaxing than before, the two of you swapping your drinks for water and replacing your energetic dancing for simply standing and spending time with the other girls. You both even made sure to reserve a small amount of distance between the your bodies when Ice had all of you say goodbye to her live. The team had all decided to pack up for the night shortly after, and you and Paige walked hand in hand together to your dorm, enjoying the cool breeze of the night.

thank you for reading all the way through and sorry if this was kinda booty i couldn't force myself to read all the way through and edit once i finished but i'm excited to keep writing and hopefully get better with each fic! also lmk if you guys wanna see more of this specific paige x reader prompt as mentioned at the top of the post!!!!

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn lives #wcbb #wlw #paige x reader #wcbb x reader #paige x fem reader #paige buckets #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #wlw post #sapphic

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sorapricots · 3 months ago

Text

Breaking Point

Summary: In the way where you start to lose your shit after teaching the children in Xavier Institute for so long, your partner Logan decided it's time to take a break.

Pair: Husband!Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Curse words, reader have regenerative healing factor like Logan so she is actually as older as as Charles but look young, reader is married to logan, blood mention,

A/N: it might seems crazy that I only come back here to write about Logan but damn I just cannot take my mind off from Logan. I might make one for Wade Wilson too tho. Also in all honesty I am not 100% proud with this one, but I just need to write this man so bad. So maybe I’m gonna make another one.

Wc: 1,8k

Beep... beep... beep...

You quickly turn off your alarm with a groan as you push yourself to sit on your bed. Another groan escaped your lips when you realized you broke another alarm for the third time this week and your husband is not beside you. You wipe your face harshly as you walk to the bathroom.

You take a cold quick shower in hope it can help you freshen up. A tired sigh was heard as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eye bags can be seen even though it's not very noticeable. You quickly grab a concealer to hide your eye bags. Once you are satisfied with your concealer you quickly put on your daily-go-to make up and decide to put on a more neutral color outfit instead of your usual colorful one.

A black turtleneck paired with your favorite jeans, as you put on a worn-out brown leather jacket, and you decide to wear your boots for the last touch. You quickly put your wedding band on your finger before you forget it. And you decided to put the necklace your husband, Logan, bought for you almost 10+ years ago. You smile a little bit as your fingers carefully caress the vintage looking necklace.

As you grab your bedroom handle, you stop to kiss your wedding band, a habit you do before you start your day. Deep down in your heart, you hope today will be a more bearable day than the previous day. But of course your wish is only a mere wish when the moment you open the door you see students running past you with full speed almost hitting you.

"Kids! No running in the hall!" You warned them before you carefully stepped out of your bedroom.

"Good morning!" Ororo quipped when she saw you step into the kitchen. A mug of coffee in her hand and a muffin in the other. You give her a sweet smile before you grab yourself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, ro. Have you seen Logan?" You softly asked as you sat yourself in one of the stools. Ororo looks at you for a second before blinking, trying to remember where the last time she saw the rugged guy.

"Oh I saw him walk to the classroom, looks like he has History class to teach today." You hummed a bit as you took a sip from your mug. Eyes slowly darting to the clock beside the fridge.

"Ah shoot, I have class too. See you later, Ro." You quickly downed your coffee and put your mug in the sink before you walked to your class. You can hear Ororo wish you good luck as you walk away.

As you approach the classroom you can hear some of the students chattering. You take a deep breath before you open the door. Revealing a bit of chaos the students cause. You can feel the corner of your eyebrow twitch but you just let it slide as the students quickly take a seat when they see you.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a nice rest last night. And I hope the assignment I gave last week is finished and ready to be submitted. Please put your work on my desk so I can grade it later." You speak as you grab some of the old literature books that you have. Students start piling up in front of your desk to put their assignments. All of them except one, John. He's known for not being punctual when it's about submitting assignments.

"John, where is your assignment?" You softly asked him as you try to calm down yourself as you can feel your patience running thin. He scratched his head before he let out an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Professor. I kind of forgot about it." He answered with full honesty. You close your eyes for a second before you give him a smile.

"It's okay, but as an exchange I want you to write a resume about this Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and I want you to submit it tonight." John almost let out a protest but decided not to when he saw you giving a look. His body slumped down on his desk before he nodded. You then continue your teaching session.

Suddenly there's a knock on your classroom door. You let out a quick come in as you write down something about old literature on the board.

"Professor, Professor Hank asked you to meet him in his class." You turn around to see Rogue standing on the entry door.

"Okay, thank you, Rogue. The class ends for today then. Make sure you do the assignment that I give you for today and I want it to be submitted next week. John, please do your assignment. I will wait for your resume tonight." Students start to pack up their belongings as you tidying up your desk. Then you walk to Hank's classroom to meet him.

A very chaotic sound can be heard in his class. You also hear Logan screaming. Your brows furrowed as you opened the classroom door. Suddenly you see a beaker with some weird color liquid in it flying and hitting your face.

The classroom went quiet as sizzle can be heard. You stare at the people in the classroom blankly as your hand slowly touches your face. You can feel your skin sticky with both the weird liquid and blood. Eyes darted to Logan, Hank, and the students making sure no one else hurt as you feel pain on your face start to numb out due to your healing factor.

"Shit." Logan quickly went to you as he held your face to make sure you heal properly. Ignoring the residue of the weird liquid that is still on your skin. You stare at him before your eyes start to become glossy. You rapidly blink your eyes while Logan pulls you into a hug. Trying to calm you down by swaying both of your body softly. Muffled sobs can be heard as he strokes your back.

"Hey, it's okay Bub. I got you. I'm here." Logan tries to pull you impossibly closer than he already did. He quickly looks behind him, telling Hank that he will be right back. Hank just gives him a quick nod before he starts to instruct the students to tidy up the mess they created.

Logan quickly picks you up with bridal style and starts walking back to your shared room with you still crying in his arms. Your hands held to his neck as you shoved your face to his neck. Try to find comfort in his musky, pine, and mixed with tobacco scent.

Logan then proceeds to put you on your shared bed softly as soon as you both are inside the bedroom. He quickly picks his shirt and your shorts for you to change as he knows you always find comfort in his shirt. He went into the bathroom to grab your makeup wipes before he came back to you who was still sobbing with hands covering your face.

"Look up, pretty girl." He carefully pulls your hands and holds your chin. Frowning a bit when he saw your mascara ran down on your cheeks and red nose. He carefully wiped your makeup away and his frown deepened as he saw your eyebags. He leans down to kiss your forehead and your sobs get harder.

“Take a deep breath darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Logan starts to cup your face as he starts to lead you on taking deep breaths with him. You follow him soon after and a thin smile creeps up his face.

“Atta girl.” his calloused hand softly stroking your head as your sobs start to calm down. Your husband then continues to clean your face from makeup. You slowly lift one of your hands to hold his wrist that is still busy cleaning up your face. Logan then leans in to give you a quick peck on each of your eyes, nose, and lastly your lips before he pulls away. His hands carefully took off the necklace that he gave for you before carefully storing it back in the box. You slowly peel off your jacket and jeans as he walks back to you.

“Hands up, baby.” He instructed you as he took a seat beside you and he pulled your turtleneck up. You obeyed him by putting your hands up in the air. Allowing him to pull your turtleneck. He then starts to stroke your almost naked back, making you feel his warm palms to let you know that he is with you.

“I’m gonna take your bra off okay?” he softly asked while his palms were still rubbing your back. You give an affirmative nod and his fingers skillfully take off your bra as he has already done so many times. You let your bra fall to the floor. Logan then pulls you to sit on his lap. Your hands immediately circling around his neck. He then pulls you into another hug while giving your shoulders a lot of soft kisses. It's a different kind of kisses. Nothing sensual, just comfort and love. And you hug him tighter. Letting his stubble tickle your skin.

Logan then pulls away and gives you his shirt and your shorts. You carefully take it from his hands. He stares at you full of love and adoration before he softly pushes you from his lap and walks to the bathroom to clean himself. You quickly put the clothes on and lay down on bed. Pull your blanket to cover your body and wait for your lover. Eyes blankly staring at the wedding band on your finger while your thumb carefully rotates it.

Suddenly a warmth starts engulfing you from the back. For the first time on that day you genuinely let out a soft smile. You quickly rotate your body so you can face your husband.

"What's on your mind darling?" His voice is rough but there's softness and care behind it. His hand pushes your hair away from your face. You smile again and pull him into a kiss.

"It's nothing. Just been tired from all of the work I have to do these past few days…" you answered in a low voice. Logan let out a low growl as he looked at you with sympathy.

"Let's take a few days off then. Let's go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us." Logan suggested while rubbing your sides before letting his hand stay on your hips. You stare at his face. Remembering every detail you can catch with your eyes.

"Okay. Thank you, Lo." Logan smiles as he rolls to lay on his back. Pulling you with him to sleep.

"Anything for you princess." His words and his touch is the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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13uswntimagines · 5 months ago

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Rainbowfish (Leah X Alessia X child!r)

Request: R calls Leah mom for the first time.

Part of the Big Emotions universe- find more here.

Warnings: none. Cute Kid Fic.

Author's note: TBH I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this one, and the ending is a bit short, but I wanted to get it out. Also, I know in the UK it's Mum and not Mom, but that's a plot point I want to explore later Lol. Please enjoy and let me know what you think.

Your bedtime story was very important business in the Russo-Williamson household.

It was the one part of your routine that never ever changed. The one part that you would refuse to sleep without (aside from a few weeks during the World Cup).

It was your absolute favorite part of the day, being cuddled into your Mama’s side with Squirt as she read you the book of the night. She did all the little voices and gently scratched your back. it never failed to send you straight to sleep. Most of the time you didn’t even make it through the book.

Alessia treasured it.

No matter how busy your days were, she made sure she got to read you your story. In the days with Manchester United, it had been the only time she really got to spend with you regularly. Things were better with Arsenal and since you had moved in with Leah, but your routine had stuck, and Leah respected that it was your special time with your mama.

“‘Thank you! Thank you so much!’ The little blue fish bubbled playfully, as he tucked the shiny scale among his blue ones,” Alessia read, watching as your tiny fingers traced the tiny shimmering scale on the blue fish on the page, made of a different material than the rest.

It was your favorite part of The Rainbow Fish.

His scales were different from the pages, so they shimmered in the fairy lights around your room.

“Is Leah Rainbow Fish?” You asked, running your fingers over the fish.

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled together, a crinkle forming between them (identical to the one you always got). “What do you mean bug?”

“Is that why people always stop her?” You glanced up at your mama, meeting eyes that were identical to your own. “So she give them a shiny scale,”

You wondered how she hid them all under her clothes. Maybe that was why people always wanted her and your mama to take their shirts off, to see their shimmery scales.

Alessia hummed, rubbing her hand through your messy curls. “Leah is kind of like a Rainbowfish, but instead of giving away scales, she reminds people that they’re special too,”

A little crease appeared between your eyebrows as you processed the thought, and you dragged your little finger from the Rainbow fish towards the larger fish on the page. “Is Leah my mommy like Rainbow fish has mommy?”

Alessia eased another curl from in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. “Do you want Leah to be your mommy?”

You nodded. “She does bath time, and plays with me, And never forgets the popcorn for movie night,”

“She does,” Alessia agreed, her lips turning into a fond smile.

“And she loves us,” You continued, meeting her eyes.

They shined in the fairy lights of your room, glimmering with an innocence that Alessia would protect until the day she died.

You mama hummed. “Very very much,”

“Then that means she’s mommy because she does all the mommy things,” You said, with a sense of finality, and understanding that was far beyond what Alessia thought a 2-and-a-half-year-old could understand.

“Hmm,” She paused, brushing a curl from in front of your eyes. Her and Leah had never fully discussed titles, but she could see that you were right. That the defender had slotted perfectly into the role. That Leah had earned it. “I think Leah would be happy with whatever you decide to call her,”

You nodded like it was a done deal. “Finish story now?”

Alessia swallowed, unable to stop the fond smile from curling across her lips. “Yeah bug, well finish the story,”

She would let you be the one to tell Leah about the discussion.

She was sure the defender would appreciate it more coming from you anyway.

******

“Come on bug, the sharks are this way,” Leah said softly, adjusting the ear defenders that accompanied you on most outings as you stared at the tank of Seahorses.

These were painted with tiger sharks, sea turtles, seahorses, and jellyfish, a perfect accomplishment to the atmosphere of the aquarium, and the reason Alessia had them made.

It was probably a toss-up between the aquarium and the zoo for your favorite one-on-one activities with Leah. The carefully selected outings that weren't too loud, or overstimulating that Leah could take you on to distract you while Alessia had an obligation you couldn’t accompany her on.

The seahorse tank was just inside the entrance to the building, small and lit with a variety of colorful LEDs. It never failed to catch your attention, and you could/would stand in front of it for hours if Leah let you, listening to her read off the information plaque several times.

She would usually let you, but she spotted a school group bustling through the coral-shaped entranceway. She didn’t fancy being shoved aside by a bunch of screaming schoolchildren, and she knew you wouldn’t either.

You didn’t enjoy crowds unless there was a barrier between you and them.

You dragged your eyes away from the tank to meet hers, your head tilting as you squeezed Squirt more tightly to you.“Turtle?”

“And the turtles,” Leah agreed, catching your hand. “We can’t go through without seeing Rocky, Bella, and Culver now can we,”

You nodded seriously at the names of your favorite turtles, holding her hand tightly as she guided you past the seahorses and to the next tank.

It was smaller, filled with 20 little fish milling about, their scales glinting off of the artificial light in the tank.

“Rainbow fish?” You asked, looking up at Leah for confirmation.

Leah squinted at the familiar plaque. “It says that these guys are Flame Angelfishes. They come from Hawaii, and they like to hang out on coral reefs,”

You frowned, turning back to the tanks as one of the smaller fish swam by.

You knew they weren’t called rainbowfishes, but you still asked Leah each time, hoping for a different answer.

“No rainbow fish?” You pouted, leaning closer to the tank, but not touching it.

You knew it was important not to bang on the glass so you didn’t scare the fish. They wouldn’t be your friend if you scared them.

“We can call it a rainbow fish,” Leah said, squatting down next to you. “I don’t think they’ll mind,”

You made a low sound, your fingers creeping their way past your lips.

“Hey, none of that,” She scolded gently, pulling your fingers from your mouth. “We don’t know where those little fingers have been,”

It was a bad habit her and your mama were fighting hard to break, how everything from your fingers to your shirt collars ended up in your mouth.

“Does rainbow fish give out his scales?” You asked, looking away from the tank to briefly meet her eyes.

“Hmm,” Leah hummed at the familiar question, glancing back at the little fish curiously swimming in front of you. “I think they would share their scales if one of their needed friends needed one,”

“Like you give out your scales?” You asked, your eyes never leaving the tank.

Leah frowned. “What do you mean bug?”

“You’re mama’s Rainbowfish,” You said earnestly, turning away from the fish to meet Leah’s eyes again.

“I’m your rainbow fish too,” She said with a very soft smile, running her hand through your messy curls.

You nodded, as though her words confirmed something for you. What, Leah wasn’t entirely sure.

Several fish swam by, and you watched in wonder as they did circles around each other, and Leah felt herself fall a little more in love with you.

In the beginning, she hadn’t been entirely sure how things would go when Alessia warned her that you two were a package deal. She always wanted kids, but she didn’t know if she was mother material now.

Then she met you, and you wrapped your little hand around her finger and she knew you had her hooked.

Now, she couldn’t imagine her life without you, or Alessia. She treasured getting to see your excitement and wonder at simple things, like fish swimming circles around a tank.

She would stand here all day if that’s what you wanted.

You did for a long second before you looked back up at her. “Turtles?”

She smiled down at you. “Yep, let’s go see the turtles,”

You looked back at the tank, waving to the fish.

One of the little fish swam across the face of the tank as though he was waving goodbye to you.

You waved back at him, and Leah refrained from telling you that he probably didn’t understand what bye-bye rainbow fish meant.

You took Leah’s hand and let her lead you deeper into the aquarium.

********

Leah could tell you were getting tired as you finally made it all the way through the shark tunnel. Your little legs were dragging, and your fingers kept trying to find their way past your lips with increasing frequency.

You had skipped your nap, and she knew you had a limited amount of time before you got grumpy, even if you were at one of your favorite places. It was always a balance of letting you experience the things you wanted and keeping you from getting overtired.

“How about we see the rays and then go get some lunch?” She asked you, wiggling your hand.

“Otay,” You mumbled, leaning into Leah and letting her pull you through the shark-shaped archway and into one of your favorite parts of the aquarium, the stingray touch tank.

“Hello miss Y/n!” The peppy blonde worker smiled widely at you as soon as you rounded the corner and sent a wave to Leah.

The two of you came here often enough that she knew you quite well.

You sent her a small wave, making sure Squirt didn’t slip from under your arm. “Ello Kara,”

“Do you want to feed the stingrays today?” She asked you, gesturing towards the touch tank that you always visited. “Rocky and Dibs are in a very friendly mood,”

She knew you well enough to know that there were days when you liked to pet the rays and ones when you just wanted to watch.

You perked up, nodding excitedly, turning to Leah and holding out your stuffed turtle. “Mommy, hold squirt so he no get wet?”

Leah blinked at you, making no move to take the turtle. “Say that again my darling?”

“You hold Squirt so I feed Rocky and Dibs?” You repeated, holding out the blue and green stuffed turtle.

Leah blinked again and squatted in front of you, bringing her hands up to cup your jaw.

“No bug, what did you call me?” She asked, her thumbs brushing your cheeks softly.

“Mommy,” You said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Mama said be ok cause you my Rainbow fish,”

Leah hummed.

Of course, you had talked it over with Alessia first. She would have been more surprised if you hadn’t.

“It’s very ok,” She assured you, swallowing away the lump in her throat, and pulling you close so she could kiss your forehead. “I’m your Mummy and your rainbow fish,”

You tolerated her lips against your hairline for a very long second before you pulled away, holding your turtle out for her. “Hold squirt so he no get wet?”

It amazed her how… casual you were about all of this. How you said it as if it just made sense. She swallowed down the swelling in her chest, knowing you wouldn’t react well if she started crying, even if the tears were happy.

“Sure, bug,” She smiled gently at you, taking the offered toy and holding him close as she released you. “Do you need help washing your hands?”

You shook your little head, turning back towards the blonde Stingray keeper. “No, Kara help me,”

She watched you as you toddled towards the sink, immediately talking to Kara about how the Rays were doing.

She would watch over you forever.

She was your Mum and your Rainbow fish.

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x reader #big emotions universe

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 5 months ago

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Bound by Desire

If they call it sin how come she loves me like a saint? (2)

Dom!Natasha x switch!Wanda x subby!brat!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have been in a happy and healthy BDSM relationship for years, but have been looking for a third for Wanda's sake. When they meet you, they might have gotten more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Nat=39, Wanda=35, Reader=22, BDSM relationship, dom!nat, switch!Wanda, sub!reader, Daddy!nat, Mommy!Wanda, strap use(r receiving), bondage (more will be added as things occur)

Authors Note: My first smut bit in a long time. Felt good to write it again, but I think a lot of this is gonna be more fluffy/hurt/comfort....maybe some angst from here for a bit.

You stared down at all the papers, books, and figures sitting on the counter. The longer you looked the more everything felt like it wasn't making sense anymore. You'd been in the kitchen all morning studying for midterms. Your eyes were starting to hurt as you pushed your palms into your eye sockets.

You barely heard Natasha until she was almost to the kitchen. Turning slightly to look at her. It was Saturday so the redhead was in sweatpants and a tank top yet somehow she still managed to make your core throb as your eyes rake over her biceps.

“Still studying Pchelka?” Her husky voice tickles your ears.

“I don't know if you could call this studying anymore. The more I look the less sense everything is making right now.” As you sink against the chair you hear her saunter over.

Her arms wrap around your shoulders, her chin resting on top of your head. Your cheeks flush as you feel her tits press against your back.

She looks over your work. Pointing out little things, her slender fingers captivating your attention. Her words become distant and yet somehow wrapping you up, putting you in that fuzzy headspace you've started becoming accustomed to.

She moves; her face coming in your peripheral. You feel a little too hazy right now to focus on anything except her fingers.

“Oh puppy, was that all it took today?” Natasha's voice drops making you fall ever so further.

Your hands are already reaching for hers. No resistance is met as you pick her hand up and bring her finger to your mouth. “Please Daddy? Need you…” You mumble around her fingers.

You weren't sure how she did it, but she was carrying you down to the bedroom, you could feel the bulge of Natasha's strap through her sweats and you instinctively rolled your hips.

She sets you onto the floor when you get to the bedroom. The simple command, “Strip.” Being all you needed. Your clothes came off into neat piles. It was a rule of Natasha's that if she ever asked for you to strip it was to be done quickly, but neatly.

When you looked up she was standing in just her boxer briefs, her bulge on display and tits perfectly staring you down.

She reached out, taking your little pile and set them on the dresser. “On the bed puppy.”

You eagerly got up, sitting pretty for her. It hadn't been too long, only a few months you'd been doing this, though it was long enough to know how Natasha wanted you.

She smiled at your eagerness as she made her way to you. Slowly making her way in front of you. Once she's in front of you, you can't help but smile. Eyes still blown like a deer in headlights and you might as well be with Nat.

She cups your cheeks gently, a soft smile on her face as she pulls you in and kisses you. Your hands find her chest as you melt against her.

She pulls back, moving you onto your back as she gets between your legs. You can feel her hot breath on your clit before her warm tongue moves through your folds. Her lips closing around your clit to tease at it.

Your center is completely soaked and glistening in the light of the midday sun coming through the skylights and showing off the slick that's made its way to your thighs. Soft moans and whimpers are falling from your lips. One of your hands tangling in her hair and the other fitting at the silk sheets beneath you.

Natasha moans into you, sending a shiver through you. Your breathing picked up as she wrapped an arm around your waist. She was holding you there as she started to bring you to that edge you wanted to fall over.

You were too focused on her tongue when you felt her push two fingers into you and now you knew the real reason she was holding you there. Her fingers and tongue moved in tandum.

“Fuck…ah…Daddy! Daddy can I cum? Please?” You pleaded with her. Eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Go on puppy. Cum.” Her husky voice is truly what sent you over the edge. The waves of pleasure wash over you.

Before you could even recover from the first Natasha is pushing her strap past your folds and stretching you out. A loud moan coming out of you as you grip onto her biceps as she puts you in a mating press.

She looks down at you, your eyes completely black from how blown they are. “You needed this so badly didn't you? Just a bitch in heat who needed to be fucked brainless by Daddy?” Her voice was deeper and more husky than even a few moments ago.

“Yes! Yes Daddy! can I cum? M'please Daddy!”

“That's it pup. Go ahead, mmm fuck…go ahead.” You feel apart beneath her. Tightening around her as you gushed over her cock and stomach.

Natasha groans as you feel her release into you, her cum filled strap filling you up. A long satisfied moan coming from you as your back arched. Your eyes closing as she slowly pulls out. She bites her lip admiring her work as she watches you drip for a moment before going to grab a towel to clean you up along with some other aftercare items.

°○°○°○°○°

When Wanda came home the house was quiet. She had called out for both of you, but got no response. She furrowed her brow as she slipped her heels off from the day. Taking notice that all shoes were accounted for.

As she walked further into the house she took notice of all your notes spread across the kitchen island. A small smile spreads across her face at how hard you always work. Though still no sign of you or her wife.

She headed up the stairs after not finding you two anywhere downstairs. Checking both offices first and then heading to the bedroom. That's where she found you two.

You were half on top of Natasha. Leg and arm thrown over her. Your legs tangled together. She had managed to get you both in tank tops. Her back in her boxer briefs and you in your panties.

Wanda smiles down at the two of you, sinking down onto the bed. Natasha being a light sleeper, opened her eyes. Looking over to see her wife made her smile.

“Привет, любовь всей моей жизни.” (Hello love of my life) she whispered as Wanda leaned in for a kiss.

“Вам обоим было весело?” (Did you two have fun?) Wanda whispered against her wife's lips before pulling back, looking down at your sleeping form and pushing some hair out of your face. Making you sturdy slightly, but settle back in.

“She needed a break from studying.” Natasha smiled down at you. “Needed Daddy's help emptying that pretty head of hers.”

Wanda gently ran her fingers through your hair, scratching just behind your ear as a content smile spread across your face in your sleep.

“She's so special Tasha…I don't think she realizes the extent that we actually feel for her.” Wanda's voice was soft as Natasha rubbed her wife's back.

“She will soon, moya lyubov.” The two women smiled at each other before Nat pulled Wanda against her to join in the cuddles.

Slowly the sun fell towards the horizon and sure there was more studying to do, dinner to be made, and documents to look over, but for right now none of you wanted this perfect moment to end.

Taglist:

@godhatesgoodgirls

@itsalwaysskorpioszn

@boredandneedfanfics

@siljuskaz

@noturlondonboy

@tobiaslut

@alexawynters

#ley writes #ley writes series #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha romanoff #switch!wanda maximoff #sub!fem!reader #bratty!fem!reader #rich couple!wandanat #wandanat x fem!reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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wordsarelife · 2 months ago

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⛧༺ NO BODY, NO CRIME ༻⛧

EPISODE 01: dinner and a glass of wine

pairing: theo nott x potter!reader

summary: the christmas holidays have just begun, but still a threatening atmosphere lies in the air and suddenly, you find yourself at a crime scene

warnings: extremely big trigger warning for the whole series, in this chapter: mentions of blood, a corpse, (small) jump-scare

note: hello guys, welcome to the first episode of no body, no crime!! i’m so excited for this series and hope you enjoy it as much as i do!! the next episode is coming out next monday!! let me know what you think in the comments <333

the soft tunes of christmas music filled the air around you. the great hall was less filled than normal, most of the students deciding to go home for the holidays.

"can you pass me the potatoes, please?" ron's red hair was illuminated by the soft glow of the fairylights behind him. the auburn sweater he was wearing was highlighting the contrast even more.

"here" hermione said, holding the bowl across the table, as ron eagerly grabbed it.

"where's ginny?" harry muttered. he had his nose buried in a book about quidditch techniques you had bought in hogsmeade. he had been busy studying it all night, but apparently not busy enough to not notice ginny's absence.

"she's sitting with luna" you pointed out, as your eyes glided along the slytherin table. ginny and her had grown closer since the beginning of the year and you had to admit that you had quickly taken a liking to the blonde girl. she was a bit strange, admittedly, but lovely none the less.

"she's been busy all year" ron muttered, mouth filled to the brim. "seems like we've gotten too boring for her"

"allow your sister to have her own friends" hermione shoke her head. "and for gods sake, please close your mouth, ronald."

despite the approaching festivity, the atmosphere in the hall was eerie. maybe because only a few people were sitting at eachs house table, making the hall seem weirdly out of place.

the slytherin table was by far the emptiest. probably because most purblooded and traditional wizard families made a hail mary out of everything that would allow a party, showing off their wealth and status.

the only thing that contradicted this assumption was that several children from the most influential pureblood families had chosen to stay. your gaze swept across the table, taking in each one in turn.

draco malfoy, displaying a usual attitude of displeasurement. you guessed that the malfoys weren't the people to listen to christmas music around the holidays.

next to him, blaise zabini, who was munching on a mouth full portion of potatoes just like ron was.

across from them and her back facing the rest of the hall, including your line of sight, pansy parkinson. her perfect cut bob of black hair moving slightly everytime she turned her head to the side, as she attentively listened to what draco was telling her.

a few feet away, mattheo riddle and lorenzo berkshire were quietly discussing something. it looked somewhat urgent, as both of them leaned over the table top, and not even mattheo, whose face you could see, wore his usual smirk.

just before you were able to wonder about his absence, you noticed theo nott walk into the hall. he looked just like always, messy curls falling onto his forehead, dark circles under his eyes and that face, that made every thought in your head disappear.

not that you liked any of them, but theo had always been your favorite. he was a true slytherin. cunning, loyal and determined. even though he had reason enough, there was no arrogant bone in his body.

you had liked him from the first time you had talked to him last year, when snape had coupled you up for a potions project. he had not even been as pretentious as you had thought he was, considering he was always hanging around malfoy.

but theo was nice, actually nice.

"hello?" ron's voice was so sudden, you knocked over the cup of pumpkin juice beside you.

hermione cleaned the juice off of the table with a simple flick of her wand, as she rolled her eyes at your distractedness.

"what?" you wondered.

"the cookies, please?" ron smiled and your expression turned sour when you noticed the pieces of potatoe stuck between his teeth.

you nodded nonetheless and grabbed the plate of decorated christmas cookies. you took one for yourself, a delicious looking christmas tree, before you planted the whole plate in front of ron, knowing that he was gonna take one cookie after the other anyway.

"i think we're good company" harry said, and while you weren't exactly sure what he was talking about, you nodded.

"obviously we are"

"i mean, she could've brought luna along, right?" he closed the quidditch book with a thud and crossed his arms.

"ehh" you muttered. you were saved by the loud sound of the door, that flew open and revealed professor burbage. she walked up to the teachers table in a hurry, quickly excusing her late arrival, before she sat down next to dumbledore.

you noticed the look of worry on her face and wondered what she was thinking about.

“what’s gotten into her?” hermione asked and you were glad someone else had noticed the professor’s strange behaviour.

“everyone is stressed around christmas, right?” ron muttered without an ounce of interest.

“i’m sure that’s it” harry nodded, glad that he could now shift the conversation back to it’s initial topic. “so, about ginny—“

“you’re mentioning her an awful lot, harry” you joked, enjoying how your brother’s face lost all it’s colour and his eyes darted between ron and you quickly. ron hadn’t even noticed the implication, if he had even listened to you in the first place.

you could read the boredom from the redheads face as he rearranged the cookie plate, until it showed a little scene with a christmas tree, huge presents and two happy gingerbread men.

you tuned the conversation out too, as harry continued to speak. you decided that it was hermiones turn to listen now.

you rather turned your head to look at theo once more, who looked up at the very same time, probably feeling eyes on him. but he didn’t look in your direction, but to the teachers table. you furrowed your brows, before you followed his line of sight, your eyes ultimately landing on professor burbage. she looked just as worried as before, as she hectically looked between theo and something clutched in her hand.

you looked back to theo, who simply rolled his eyes, averting his gaze from the teacher and focusing back on the untouched food beside him. draco muttered something in theo’s direction and the latter barely reacted, managing only a weak smile, before his focus was gone again.

you sighed, deciding you had spent enough time with your friends to leave without feeling bad. “i think i’m gonna head to bed” you smiled, standing up.

“oh” hermione simply noted. “should i accompany you?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine”. her offer was nice, but you wanted to be alone for some time. it was especially during times like these, that you most missed what other people had: a real family. you still had harry and your friends, but it was different from what you sometimes wished for.

“i’ll see you guys tomorrow” you waved. ron, mouth filled to the brim, only waved back to your relief and harry nodded, muttering something about a game of chess ginny had promised.

you headed out of the hall just a mere second later, pulling your sweater over your head, that you had taken off in the hall, because of the brizzling warmth of the fireplace at your back. you took the usual route to the tower. it was the place you often spend time at whenever you wanted to be alone.

the stairs creaked loudly beneath each step you took, indicating how old the whole structure was. you walked across the wooden beams, leaning your body over the railing as you breathed in the cold of the air and your eyes wandered across the snow beneath you.

it was so calm up here, so silent.. until. the wood creaked loudly, indicating steps coming up towards you. your heart began beating faster, debating who could be coming up here. you had never ran across someone else at the tower.

maybe it was harry? you stepped closer to the stairs, expecting your brothers dark and messy hair to peak from the entrance, but it wasn’t harry who then stepped onto the plattform across from you.

“hey” theo nott muttered, hands pushed into the pockets of his pants while he looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“hey” you said, just as neutral. you tried to act casual, as he walked closer and you followed him back to the middle of the plattform, awkwardly standing next to each other.

theo fished out a cigarette from his pocket. “is this okay?” he asked, pointing between the two of you.

you furrowed your brows, confused what he was talking about, before you realized that he was probably asking about your permission to keep you company. “sure” you nodded and the lightened his cigarette.

“you smoke?” he asked, holding the burning cigarette in your direction as if to offer you a blow.

you shoke your head, although you had to admit that it was intruiging to take a drag when a boy with such blue eyes was the one offering it.

“do you come here often?” you asked softly, deciding it was more awkward to just stare at him in silence.

“sometimes” theo shrugged. “they get exhausting, my friends i mean”

“yeah, mine too” you nodded.

“wouldn’t have held you for a person that particuarly likes to be alone” theo muttered, before he turned his head, blowing the smoke out from his lips, without it hitting you. you appreciated the gesture.

“it gets too much, sometimes” you shrugged. “i don’t mind to be alone”

“then you probably mind my company, huh?” he smirked, looking into your eyes with a deep kind of sincerity.

“not at all” you shook your head, mirroring the smirk on his lips. “although i would prefer malfoy”

“oh shut up” theo laughed, his eyes glistening, almost surprised at the sudden joke. you felt proud that you had made him laugh, even if you had to mention malfoy.

“i’m so sincere right now” you giggled, both of you not believing a word you were saying.

theo threw down his cigarette, stomping on it, before he let it disappear with a flick of his wand. he looked up at you and opened his mouth, about to return a witty remark, when a loud bang rang out.

you both froze at the sound, the laughter abruptly cut off as the echo of the bang bounced off the stone walls. the great hall felt miles away in that moment, and the air thickened with tension. theo’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of concern.

“what was that?” you whispered, instinctively taking a step closer to him. the sudden shift from light-hearted banter to fear sent a shiver down your spine.

“the door” theo muttered in recognition. the tower was right on top of the entryway to the castle. now that you thought about it, the bang did sound awfully like a heavy door falling close.

“who would even go out there now?” you wondered, your heart still beating fast as the shock settled into your features.

“i don’t know” theo stepped away and closer to the staircase. “are you coming or what?”

you quickly nodded, as you followed him back down and through the corridor, before you froze in front of the door.

“maybe it was the wind” you suggested, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your uncertainty.

theo raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism dancing in his gaze. “you really believe that?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but his expression alert.

“well, it’s possible,” you replied, though you didn’t sound convinced. the notion felt flimsy in the wake of the unsettling noise, and the creeping feeling of dread wasn’t fading.

“possible, sure,” he replied, “but it sounded too loud for the wind. we need to check it out. it could be something... important.”

your heart raced again, this time from a mix of fear and curiosity. “important? like what?” you asked, biting your lip.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, glancing back at the heavy wooden door. “but don’t you think we should at least look? it might be someone in trouble.”

you hesitated, looking back down the corridor where you could see flickers of light from the torches along the walls. “but what if it’s something dangerous?” you countered, feeling a rush of apprehension.

“better to know than to wonder,” he said, his tone serious yet gentle. there was a spark of determination in his eyes, and you found yourself drawn to his confidence. despite the risk, the thought of turning back felt more frightening than facing whatever lay beyond the door.

theo looked back at you once more, before he sighed and nodded, pushing the heavy door open. what revealed itself was the dark of the night, as snow fell into the entrance you were standing in, quickly cooling your face.

“it’s too dark” theo noted. both of you took out your wands, using lumos to light the way. theo urged you to follow him. the snowfall was so heavy, that even the light of your wands did almost nothing.

theo was just a few steps beside you, when you felt it. “theo” you whispered, as your body and heart froze simultaneously. “theo” you repeated, a bit louder. you could see the light of theo’s wand come closer again. he had heard you.

“are you alright?”

you shook your head, what he probably couldn’t see. you could only make out his body. “there is something there”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m feeling it against my foot” you muttered. “there is something on the ground. i’ll have to come closer to make out what it is”

“be careful” theo held you hand to stabilize your body, as you kneeled down, moving the light of your wand across the object on the ground in front of you. it was dark, black robes, hiding something beneath them. but you just couldn’t make out what it was.

then suddenly, you gasped in shock. your light glided over a face, mouth, nose dripping blood. wide eyes, opened in terror as they stared at you unmoving. you screamed, falling back into the snow, as theo surged forward, trying to catch you.

“y/n!” he called, panic rising in his voice as you struggled to breathe, your heart racing wildly “what’s wrong? what is it?”

“professor burbage” you muttered, over and over again.

“what?” theo leaned in closer, still holding onto you, his face drained of color.

“she’s dead!” you choked out, voice trembling, eyes fixed on the professor’s face, still staring up at you, frozen in her final moment of horror.

you heard theo gasp, his own breath faltering for a moment as he processed what lay before you both. without another word, he pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around you to support your shaking body. “we have to go,” he muttered, his voice tight with fear. with one hand, he held his wand forward, the dim light flickering in the swirling snow, while the other held onto you as you stumbled back toward the door.

the last thing you saw as the heavy door closed behind you was professor burbage’s body, half-buried in the snow, her lifeless eyes still staring, as if warning you of something far worse to come.

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