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pathologicalreid · 15 days

Note

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.”

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

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aesthetichomerenovations · 1 year

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Bathroom Ideas For Small Spaces

Choosing ensuite bathroom ideas can be difficult, especially when the bathroom is located in a small room. However, there are a few tricks that can help to create a functional and attractive bathroom. Whether you are updating your current en suite, or designing one from scratch, you will want to consider a few important elements.

The bathroom is the perfect space to have some fun with shape, texture and pattern. The right fixtures and fittings will go a long way in helping you to achieve this look. For example, a countertop basin with a simple silhouette will give your bathroom a sleek and contemporary look.

The bathroom is also a great place to have some fun with colour. This can be achieved by using contrasting colours to create the illusion of space. In addition, adding plush area rugs adds texture to the room.

Another small bathroom ideas ensuite is to use mirrors to bounce light around the room. This can be done by installing an illuminated mirror, which will give your bathroom a luxurious touch. In addition, using hand-painted details will give your bathroom a personal touch.

Using wallpaper in your ensuite is a great way to inject some pattern and colour into a small room. Using a wallpaper with a pattern that mimics the shapes of the shower and bathtub will create a very cool effect.

Using LED backdrop lights in the bathroom will also add a touch of class. In addition, a large, unframed mirror above the sink will also do the trick. Using a floating bench in the bathroom will also add some symmetry. A low hanging pendant will add a dash of offbeat charm to the room.

Using the right bathroom vanity is essential if you are planning to make the most of a small space. Whether you go with a pedestal sink, or a countertop basin, be sure to check the water pressure and check that the sink is draining properly. The right taps will also help to create a luxurious look.

A bathroom should be a place to relax and unwind. A bath is a great way to achieve this, but it's also important to have a good shower. If you're using a shower to get your bathing on, you might want to consider installing a bath screen. These are also available in a range of materials, including stainless steel.

In addition to the bathroom's main features, a good ensuite bathroom should also have a stylish toilet. If you have a small en suite, consider installing a back-to-wall toilet. This can be a more elegant option than a wall-hung toilet. You could even add a chic black toilet seat to the mix.

A good ensuite bathroom should also have a clever storage solution. A built-in cabinet is a smart and stylish way to use space, as is a hidden mini fridge for skincare products. A shelf or storage unit in an alcove can also be a very creative way to maximize the space in your bathroom.

Aesthetic Home Renovations will take care of everything your needs in Home Renovation Services in Australia. Call our team today to book and we excel in providing a vast range of building solutions.

#built in bathtubs #cheap bathroom renovations #bathroom ideas ensuite #remodelling a bathroom #bathroom remodels #bathroom remodeling #remodeling bathrooms #inspire bathroom #bathroom luxuries

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strang3lov3 · 8 months

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Bath & Body Works

Mall Rats 2! Can be read alone. But if you want-- read Mall Rats 1 here

Summary: You'll drag Joel kicking and screaming into your bubble bath if it's the last thing you do.

A/N: I am stoked about this one!

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (f receiving), rubber ducky, joel is extra cranky, dirty talk, forced bubble bath with a grumpy old man, soapy tiddies, rubber duckies, country apple scented bubble baths

WC: 3.2k

You’re going through your bag of goodies from your first trip to the mall with Joel. You’ve got your undies and bras from Victoria’s Secret, along with some candles and stuff from Bath and Body Works.

You would have picked out more, but Joel was throwing a bitch fit about how you were taking too long to pick out body sprays and whatnot.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…just fuckin’ pick one already. They all smell like chemicals and girl. I’m gettin’ a migraine.”

“From all the smells?”

“No. You.” You ignored him and searched for body wash to match your body sprays and lotions. “C’mon. Shake a leg, sweetheart.”

“I need body wash. I can’t find it.”

“Here” Joel grabbed a random ass bottle, shoved it in your bag, wrapped his hand around your forearm and dragged your ass out of Bath and Body Works. “It’s all the same shit anyway.”

Now you’re pulling out that random ass bottle of what Joel had deemed as the same shit as body wash. And it’s not the same shit. At all.

Relaxing Bath Bubbles

Country Apple

Awh, shit. Guess you’re about to give Joel another migraine.

You walk over to his house and knock on his door, your backpack full of your Bath and Body Works goodies. Rubber duckies too. You snagged them from a broken claw machine in the mall.

Knock knock knock knock knock

“Joel, open up.”

You knock some more. Joel opens the door clad in nothing but plaid boxers, his eyes squinting and his hair wild. “The fuck do you want?”

“Need to use your bathroom,” you say. “Now. It’s an emergency.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Why? You know what, I don’t wanna know. Just make it quick.”

He’s perplexed, but he leads you to his ensuite bathroom anyway. He says Ellie’s bathroom downstairs is heinous. You enter the bathroom and shut the door, and Joel lays on his bed as he scribbles in his book of crossword puzzles.

The first thing you notice about Joel’s bathroom is how nice it is. Spacious, a deep and wide circular inset bathtub. How he scored this, you don’t know. You strip, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor then fill up the tub with hot water. You toss your duckies in the water, dump some Country Apple bubble bath in the tub and watch the bubbles emerge, then light your Bath and Body Works candles and turn out the lights.

The water is soothing and the bubbles smell nice. You lean back in the tub and relax, watching your little rubber duckies float through the bubbles.

Only when half an hour goes by does Joel realize something’s up. He’s been stuck on his puzzle for the last ten minutes and completely forgot that you’re in the bathroom. He shuts his crossword puzzle book in frustration, sets it on his nightstand and turns out the light in his room.

The flicker of your candles through the cracks of the bathroom door catches his eye. Confused, he decides to investigate. He’s about to knock on the door when he hears a splash.

Joel doesn’t have time for this. He barges in to find you soaking in his tub, surrounded by candles and rubber ducks. He looks like he’s gonna have a conniption fit.

“Oh, finally,” you say excitedly. “Been waiting for you.”

Irritated doesn’t even begin to describe the expression on Joel’s face at how shockingly cavalier you are about bathing in his tub. “The fuck are you doing in here?”

“Using your bathroom.”

“You said it was an emergency.”

“Correct,” you reach for the bottle of apple scented bubble bath and toss it to Joel. “Emergency indeed.”

“We need to go over what constitutes an emergency, then. Because this shit is not an emergency. Not in the slightest.”

“It is, actually,” you counter. “That’s bubble bath. Not body wash. They are not the same.”

Joel looks at you and he’s not sure which of you has a screw loose, but clearly something’s not right here. You fill one of your rubber duckies with water and squirt him on his tummy “The fuck is the matter with you?” he snaps. Joel snatches the toy from your hand and tosses it behind you, so you fill another ducky with water and squirt him again. “Get your ass out of my tub and go home.”

“Take it up with Tommy. My tub’s broken. He said he’d fix it but he never did. He said to use yours.”

“Tommy did not say that.”

“You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

“You know what? M’not doing this. Out. Now,” Joel takes a step forward and reaches his arm through the bathwater to find the drain stopper. You grab hold of his arm, biting your bottom lip as you smile mischievously. Joel glares at you. “Don’t.”

You squeeze his forearm tighter and pull with all of your might. Joel tumbles forward into the bath, water splashes over the edge of the tub and floods the floor below. Joel emerges from the water gasping. “God bless it,” and pushes his hair out of his face, then wipes his eyes and turns to you. The look on his face pierces daggers right through you.

In a ballsy move, before he can stand up and step out of the tub, you slide over and sit your ass on his lap. You lean back to force him against the edge of the tub. “That’s better,” you say. “Need you to be my pillow. Your tub’s uncomfortable as fuck.”

“Not gonna be your anything. Get the fuck out of my tub or so help me god I will–”

“Joel, shut up. I’m trying to relax. And you should too, because you’re kind of a crankerpuss.”

Joel scowls. “Do not call me that.”

“Well, you’re being very hostile right now.”

Oh, he’ll show you hostile alright. You don’t know the first thing about hostility. Joel’s about to pick you up and throw your ass out of the–

Nope. Bad idea.

It’ll make an even bigger mess on the floor. You’re not worth the water damage. And then you’ll slip and fall, crack your skull open and there’ll be blood everywhere. Hiding the body will be Joel’s next step and he’s not in the mood for that. And of course, inevitably, you’ll knock over one of your candles and set Joel’s bathroom ablaze.

So Joel shimmies off his boxers and tosses them over the edge of the tub. They land with a wet plop. He leans back with you still on his lap, accepting his fate as your human pillow.

“Isn’t this nice?” you ask sweetly.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Shut up.”

So you quiet down and settle against Joel’s torso as best you can. Except as the minutes pass, he still won’t relax. He’s stiff as a board. His hands are in fists, resting on either side of his thighs. He’s practicing his deep breaths and going over the serenity prayer in his head. Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

“You seem tense,”

“Mm,” Joel says. “Wonder why. What a mystery this is. I’m stumped, truly.”

“You tend to run hot. You know. Short fuse,”

“You tend to drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he counters. You scoop up some bubbles in your hand, and Joel grabs your wrist and shoves it back underwater. “Knock it off. S’not playtime.”

You turn so you’re facing Joel and straddled on his thighs. You lift up on your knees, reaching behind Joel to grab a couple of towels. You drive him nuts, but at least he’s getting a nice view of your soapy tits. Pros and cons.

You fold the towel and set it behind Joel to support and cushion his neck. “Is this nicer?” you ask.

“It’d be nice if you weren’t here. See enough of ya already.”

“Get used to it,” you reply. “Got a whole lotta mall left to explore.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You don’t bother responding. Instead, you reach for a rag and a bar of soap and begin to lather it. You lift Joel’s arm up and begin scrubbing his skin gently.

“Quit it,” he snaps, yanking the rag from you. “Washed earlier.”

Your feelings are a little hurt and you frown. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“Don’t need you to be nice to me. Need you to get out of my house. Now finish your bath.”

You grab the bar of soap again, this time without the rag. You lather it between your hands and reach for Joel’s arm once more, this time putting more emphasis on massaging him and less on cleaning.

This, he seems more receptive to. He lets out a little sigh and his head falls back on the towel you folded for him. You massage down his arm, letting your fingers squeeze and work his biceps, then his forearm, the palm of his hand and even his fingers. Your hand accidentally nudges his half hard cock, but he doesn’t startle or move you away.

You’re thinking about his cock. You haven’t really seen it, hardly felt it. In a seamless transition, your hand leaves Joel’s and you reach between your bodies to play with his member. He grows hard with your touch, you can feel it. In your palm, he’s thick, heavy, and long. You trace your finger over the prominent vein that climbs up his length.

Joel sighs and reaches for your hand that’s working his shaft. “What are you doin’,” he sighs.

“Rub-a-dub-dubbing you.”

You think your eyes deceive you as a flicker of a smirk graces Joel’s face. It’s gone in an instant, but you saw it. You’ll have to alert the media.

“Charming,” he mumbles.

You continue massaging his member. You’re thankful that the bubble bath led you to this moment here with Joel, but disappointed that the bubbles are hindering your view. You slide your hand up and down, letting your thumb swipe over his swollen tip.

“Feel good?”

“S’good, honey. Yeah, so fuckin’ good. Keep it up.”

Joel’s leaning into it now. Melting like a candle. Eyes fluttered shut, lips slightly parted as a symphony of curses and pretty noises escape his mouth.

“Fuck, darlin’. Squeezin’ me s’good.”

His chest is rising and falling unsteadily. The flickering candlelight bounces off of his skin and gives his face a warm glow. He’s got both hands on the globes of your ass cheeks, sliding over the expanse of skin. Up your waist and down your thighs, loving every inch of your body.

You lean forward and hold onto his shoulder with your free hand while you stroke him with your other. You dip your head lower to kiss and nip at his jaw and neck. His skin is warm and fragrant like the bubble bath.

One of Joel’s hands slither between your bodies and he cups your mound. His fingers reach lower to trace lazy circles into your clit. You pump him faster as he plays with you, soft breaths and groans falling from his lips. “Y’got it, sweetheart. Just like that. Just like–ohh, fffuck.” He squeezes your ass tight as he finds his release, his body tensing and twitching under your touch. He lets out deep and guttural groans, music to your ears.

He’s coming down from his high, still mindlessly tracing your pussy with his thick fingers. You’re watching as his breathing slows. He’s finally relaxed. And they said it couldn’t be done!

And just then, one of your little rubber duckies floats between you and Joel. The duck wears a mischievous smile. It’s like it’s thinking what you’re thinking.

Subtly, oh so subtly, you reach for the ducky and squeeze it, then open your fist slightly and let it fill up. Joel’s eyes are still closed and he’s breathing peacefully as you hold the duck level with his face. You squeeze the ducky once more, and a thin stream of water squirts from the duck’s beak and onto Joel’s cheek. Got his ass.

Joel opens his eyes slowly, his previously soft expression now harsh and irritated. Joel reaches for the duck. “You squirt me with that thing one more time…” he takes it from your hand, “Watch what happens.”

You bite back a smile.

“Keep it up,” Joel growls. “Now sit back down and spread your legs. Water’s gettin’ cold.”

He’s got a soft spot for you, believe it or not. His brain is telling him to kick your country apple scented ass out the door, but his heart’s telling him to let you stay a while longer. He is a gentleman with principles, after all. A lady should always finish.

“Wider,” he says. “Open up.”

He uses his strong, masculine hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart, but he doesn’t have to do anything. You oblige to his request immediately. He toys with your clit, circling and swirling his fingers over the sensitive bud before dipping his middle finger inside of you and chuckling. “Hmm,” he hums. “Selective hearing.” “What?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles. “Just think it’s funny how ya only listen t’me when you’ve got my hand or my cock between your thighs.”

You answer him with a soft moan and scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he pumps his finger inside you, feeling how warm and wet you are.

“So this is what it’s gonna take, hmm? To get you to be a good girl for me?”

“More,” you breathe.

Joel inserts a second finger and you gasp. “Jesus, girl. M’gonna get carpal tunnel tryna get you to behave yourself.”

“Carpal what-el?”

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. S’nothin’.”

You whimper as his thumb swipes your clit and his fingers pump inside you. You hold his shoulders for stability as you grind your pelvis against his palm, rocking the water all over the place, over the tub. The waves bounce high and into Joel’s mouth, he’s annoyed as he spits out some bubbles. You may have overfilled the tub.

“Y’need to sit still,” he says. “Makin’ a goddamn mess.”

“Sorry,” you rasp.

But the splashing continues. Joel gets an idea then. He pulls his hand away from your core.

“No,” you whine. “Don’t stop, Joel, please–”

“Lookit that, usin’ your manners. Bein’ so nice,” Joel praises you. “You’re fine,” he coos softly. “Not goin’ anywhere. M’right here with you.”

Joel adjusts a few towels on the tile surrounding the tub, making a nice little bed for you. He lays you on the towel, watching as beads of water fall from your body and your legs dangle in the tub. He pulls you close, then licks one long stripe up your pussy.

“Yeah, that, keep doing that,” you beg.

“Not plannin’ on stoppin,” Joel chuckles, his low voice sending vibrations through your sex. “Gonna take my time with your sweet pussy.”

Joel does just that. He licks from bottom to top, top to bottom. He tastes every inch of you, from your slick folds to your clit and back down to your entrance. He flattens his tongue wide against you, lapping at your cunt and savoring the taste of your arousal. He loves the sinful, wet noises your pussy makes.

You tug on Joel’s wet strands of salt and pepper hair, pulling him as close as you can get him. “I know, gorgeous. I got ya,” he whispers.

Joel pushes two fingers inside you once more, this time curling them upward to find that sweet spot inside you. You kick your legs, splashing even more water than before. You’ve got an iron grip on his damp curls, twitching and shuddering with every flick of his tongue and sending water flying.

This whole eating you out to keep you from flooding the bathroom thing didn’t go as planned. But Joel’s a trooper. He’ll soldier on and mop up your mess later. He firmly grips the area behind your knees, lifting your legs from the water and pushing them apart. They sit high at your hips, he has you in a vulnerable position. He devours you and holds you close with a certain tenderness, and you know you’re in good hands.

“Mmmm,” you moan. “S’good, fuck.”

“Got a dirty mouth, hon. You know that?”

You do know that, but you can’t respond. The only thing you can do is whimper and make those sweet, sweet noises that Joel loves so much. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises, sweetheart.” he whispers as you squirm against him. He holds you tighter, keeping you still as he brings you to the edge. His fingers and tongue working relentlessly to make you dizzy.

“Gonna, fuck. M’gonna come, Joel. Please, please–”

“Come on my tongue,” Joel tells you. “Let go f’me. Give me a good one, sweetheart. Wanna taste it. Wanna taste all of you.”

With his words and ministrations inside you, along with his tongue dancing on your clit, you dissolve under him. Pure pleasure courses through your veins, beginning deep in the pit of your stomach and washing over you, your torso and thighs. Joel’s name is the only word you know at this moment. You sing it like a hymn, worshiping the man who makes you see stars.

Your head feels fuzzy. You’re hardly aware that Joel’s now kissing his way up your body, over your tummy and your ribcage. He kisses one of your breasts, then the other. He flicks his tongue over one nipple and lightly pinches and twists the other. “Didn’t get to give these tits of yours enough lovin’,” he mumbles.

It’s touching. He’s such a good lover, but such a forgetful man. Guess what’s sitting right next to you.

Yup. Rubber ducky.

Joel’s still kissing and massaging your tits, and you quietly reach for the duck. You squirt him right between the eyes.

Joel snatches the toy from your hand. “Where do you keep finding these fuckin’ ducks?!”

You shrug and giggle, then Joel pulls away from you. He pulls the drain stopper, then dries you and himself off with fresh towels. “Alright,” he says. “You had your bath and then some. Get lost.”

You pout. “You’re not gonna walk me home? It’s late.”

“Nope.” Joel bites his cheek, knowing he’s not actually gonna kick you out to walk home alone. You’re making him soft, and he hates it. “Fine,” he concedes. “Get in bed.”

You giggle and make your way to his bed, watching Joel mop up your mess in the bathroom. He blows out the candles and returns to you. “M’way too fuckin’ nice to ya,” he grumbles.

“Eh,” you shrug. “Could be nicer.”

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed! Send me asks! Your interaction means the world and keeps me going!

Part 3

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#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #mall rats #mall rats joel

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shadow4-1 · 27 days

Text

I'm just imagining the 141 renting out a "haunted" mansion for a short vacation only for the place to be exactly as advertised.

Like, the moment Soap shows you the listing for the Scottish castle alarm bells are going off in your head. You're not superstitious, but something about the place is just too damn ominous. Despite the fact everyone thinks you're overreacting you make your feelings on the trip very clear.

"This is a horrible idea, you guys. The place literally says its haunted."

"Ghosts aren't real." Ghost scoffs.

"Yeah, well then what the fuck are you?"

Everyone chuckles at you. They think you're joking, but you're being serious. They all vote to spend a weekend at the god forsaken place and either you can stay on base or go with them. Those are your options, take it or leave it.

Of course you go. Being left behind in the empty barracks seems even spookier.

At first the place is actually quite charming.

It's more of a quiet countryside villa instead of a brooding castle, like the listing portrayed. There's more than enough rooms to house you all. You decide to stay in the book nook room. The bed rests against a rather gorgeously large window. The ensuite bathroom is old timey with a clawfoot bathtub. You make yourself right at home by taking a hot bath before crawling into bed.

That night you sleep like a baby with a thunderstorm raging right outside the window. Lightning strikes through the white curtains and despite the weather, you're thoroughly content. Maybe Soap was right.

The next morning you're greeted to a disaster.

All of the books on the bookshelves are littered across the floor. Adrenaline kicks in and immediately you rush out of the room. You run down the hall to find all of your team sitting in front of the fireplace. Each of their eyes are shifty and nervous. They regard you with distrust.

"Guys, what the hell is going on?" You yelp. "I woke up to books everywhere!"

"Yeah, well I kept waking up 'cause someone kept pulling the sheets off 'a me!" Soap grumbled back.

"Someone kept tapping at my window." Gaz admitted.

"I heard scratching at my door. Thought it was a cat but..." Price trailed off.

Everyone's eyes turned to face Ghost. He was simply staring into the crackling fire.

"You alright?" You ask him. "Something happen to you too?"

"Thought I saw someone in the hall."

#call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #captain price #ky #kyle gaz garrick

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stevebabey · 4 months

Text

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

#gay ppl in my phone…. today i let u down #by leaving you hanging #it’s a fill in the blank story ! u can choose how it ends !#mwah mwah mwah #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #uhhhhh i think that’s all #enjoy?

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youaintnothinbuta · 2 months

Text

“I’ve got her, you relax.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: daddy Elvis comes home from tour finally, and you’ve been extra tired lately having to take care of a sick toddler. He goes straight into dad mode when he gets home and gives you a chance to relax and he’s just the best dad ever to your daughter n I love domestic elvis <3

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 678

Warnings: fluff!! Domestic!Elvis n daddy!elvis 😋 probs typos SORRY

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Finally the day had come where Elvis was coming home for a break from touring. You were originally going to meet him at the airport with the others, but your daughter had been under the weather, and sick toddlers and overstimulating environments don’t mix well. Instead, you waited at Graceland for him to return, your daughter resting on your lap.

As soon as she heard the lock of the front door click, she lept out of your lap, running over to Elvis, her arms outstretched towards him, cheering, “daddy, daddy!”

Elvis’ face lit up with a radiant smile as he scooped her up, spinning her around in the air before cuddling her to his chest, peppering her face with kisses. You watched with a smile, waiting for your turn. “My little girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection as he planted another kiss on her cheek. “My other little girl. I’ve missed you,” he continued, turning to you and enveloping you in a warm embrace, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss.

As he lifted your daughter onto his shoulders, her giggles filling the air, you felt relief wash over you, “I've missed you too, E,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

“How is she?” He asked, his concern evident in his voice, reaching up to tickle your daughter’s tummy, who was perched happily on his shoulders.

You let out a tired sigh, the weight of the past few days evident in your voice, “Getting there.”

“Tell you what, I’ve got her, you relax this afternoon, tonight it’ll be just me and you,” he suggested, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. Your heart raced a little at his suggestion, “I’d love that.”

You made your way to the bathroom, the promise of a warm bath beckoning you, Elvis followed closely behind, your daughter still perched happily on his shoulders. Together, you ascended the staircase, the sound of y/d/n’s laughter filling the air as Elvis carried her up to her bedroom to retrieve a coat.

“And mama,” Elvis said, his voice filled with determination as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him, “don't you even think about cooking, or cleaning, or tidying, or nothing, okay? I got it.”

You couldn't help but smile at his insistence, a wave of gratitude washing over you at his thoughtfulness. “Alright, daddy,” you replied playfully, backing up against him and teasing him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. You wandered away into the your bedroom, Elvis shot you a knowing smirk, shaking his head in amusement as he watched you go, saying you’re going to get it tonight.

“Alright, monkey,” Elvis said, turning his attention back to your daughter, who was now perched on her bed, her eyes shining with excitement. “Let's get a jacket and go play outside.”

Bending down, he gently lifted her off the bed, setting her down on her feet. Opening up her wardrobe, he sifted through the clothes until he found a warm coat, zipping it up around her little body snugly to protect her from the chilly November air.

Once she was properly bundled up, Elvis took her hand in his, a smile lighting up his face as he led her out of the room and down the stairs. Outside, the world was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the crisp air tinged with winter on the horizon. The bathtub in yours and Elvis’ ensuite was positioned perfectly next to a window, allowing you to watch on as he and y/d/n headed out into the backyard, their laughter echoing through the air.

The pair ran around playing together, first in her cubby house, then playing chasey, before she got bored of that too. You leant against the bathtub ledge, smiling at your little family.

“Baby, come here, look,” Elvis pulled her into his lap, “see, look, wave to mama, do you see her?” He cooed, pointing to you in the window for her as she waved both hands around at you, making you laugh.

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withacapitalp · 9 months

Text

Bathtubs, Closets, and Coming Home

For the servers daily prompt today "closet"

Eddie was giggling.

Steve’s metalhead rockstar badass boyfriend was straight up fucking giggling.

“Look at this, Sunshine,” He crowed, practically skipping into the ensuite bathroom, “There’s a clawfoot tub. Clawfoot!”

Steve slowly made his way over to the bathroom, and by the time he was at the doorway, Eddie was lying fully clothed in said clawfoot bathtub. His legs were crossed and his arms were spread wide in front of him, a dragon with a weird porcelain horde.

“Can you imagine the wicked wild sex we can have in this thing?” Eddie asked in a hushed whisper, his eyebrows waggling up and down.

“Eddie!” Steve hissed, quickly glancing around to make sure that their realtor wasn’t standing nearby.

Luckily Sophie seemed to be occupied elsewhere, so Steve felt brave enough to creep closer, linking his fingers with Eddie’s and giving their joined hands a single soft squeeze. From the moment they had set foot in the house, Eddie had been acting like a kid at Christmas, and the last thing Steve wanted to do was ruin his mood by being a sourpuss.

“You’re not funny,” Steve teased, throwing on a mock pout just because he knew Eddie loved to kiss that look off his face. Sure enough, Eddie immediately sat up, turning to Steve so they were nose to nose, so close that Steve could smell his shampoo.

“That’s because I’m hilarious,” Eddie declared, quickly smacking a kiss onto Steve’s lips before hauling himself out of the tub and striding back into the master bedroom, “And this place is perfect!”

Perfect.

Steve’s heart seized up, and he leaned against the tub, trying to force himself to breathe steadily.

On paper, Eddie was right, the house was perfect. With eight bedrooms, seven bathrooms, an absolutely ginormous kitchen, a gorgeous backyard, and a guest house on property for when any parents come to visit, it was a dream come true. The house had everything that had been on their list, and with Corroded Coffin’s newest single staying at the number one spot for the sixth week in a row, it was well within their price range.

On paper, this was everything they were looking for. It was perfect.

And yet here Steve was, standing in a bathroom trying not to have a complete meltdown.

“I mean, come on!” Eddie shouted, his voice carrying through to the bathroom. Steve forced his body to walk, barely feeling every step he took as he basically frog marched back into the bedroom.

Eddie was standing with his arms directly out to his sides, trying and failing to touch each side of the doorway to the walk in closet. There was a big fat grin on his face, and in any other moment, Steve would be dying of happiness instead of despair.

“This closet is bigger than the entire trailer,” Eddie stated, giddy with the exhilaration of someone who had finally found everything they were looking for. Somehow that one single statement was the thing that pushed him over the edge.

If Steve was a good partner, he would be happy too. He would rush over to Eddie’s side and pull him in close, show him how much he loved the house, and they would be living happily ever after.

But Steve wasn’t a good partner. Steve was a selfish goddamn brat, and he couldn’t hide how utterly miserable the house was making him. He couldn’t fake a smile and he couldn't make the tears in his eyes go away, no matter how hard he blinked.

And the worst part was, Eddie- who was the world’s best partner- instantly caught Steve’s shining eyes and wobbling lip.

“Steve?”

Fuck.

It was just his name, but it was the way Eddie said it. That soft tone, the gentle voice that was reserved just for Steve and maybe the kids on a particularly bad day. Compassion and love and understanding all wrapped in a sweet Eddie ribbon, an arrow that sailed right over all of his walls and pierced directly into Steve’s heart.

“Come here,” Eddie commanded, trusting his hand out. Steve was like a puppet on a string, everything he did tied to whatever Eddie wanted. He swayed into the closet, letting his boyfriend pull him into his arms, setting them both down on the floor with care. They ended up sitting side by side on the ground, their backs against the wall, Steve’s head on Eddie’s shoulder with a comforting hand curled in his hair.

“It’s great,” Steve tried, hating how thin the lie was. He wanted to be able to put on an act, play along for Eddie’s sake, but there was no way it was going to work.

“You hate it,” Eddie whispered, and there it was. Steve wasn’t able to lie, but neither was Eddie, and the disappointment in his voice was crushing Steve’s lungs.

“No,” Steve replied immediately. Eddie scoffed, and Steve pulled away, just enough so they could look at each other. He wanted Eddie to know he was honest when he said he didn’t hate the place, because he was being honest. Steve didn’t hate the house, he loved it, but he hated the way it made him feel.

“It’s not the house, Eddie. The house is great,” Steve trailed off trying to find the words to explain but coming up empty. He sighed shortly, frustrated with himself as the explanation for the strange rolling feeling in his stomach didn’t come. ”I mean it’s exactly what you want. This is the kind of place you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid.”

“What I want,” Eddie emphasized, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked at Steve, “But not what you want?”

“I’m being stupid,” Steve shot back. When Eddie made a sound and tried to reach out, Steve stopped him, knowing this was important. “No, seriously, Eds. I know I’m being super fucking irrational,”

“What do you think you’re being irrational about, baby?” Eddie asked softly, linking their pinkies and looking at Steve with those big brown eyes.

“You grew up wanting a house like this. I grew up in a house just like this,” Steve explained, closing his eyes as he did. He wouldn’t be able to look at Eddie as he said it, wouldn’t be able to get through without losing it as he finally got to the heart of why this house scared him so badly, “It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be,”

It was irrational. Eddie wasn’t going to stop loving him the second they bought the house. He wasn’t going to leave Steve alone in a tomb of their own making. They weren’t his parents.

Steve’s brain understood that, now he just needed to get his heart on board.

“Oh honey,” Eddie murmured. If it was anyone else, there would be pity there, and Steve wouldn’t be able to help being angry. But it was Eddie, who understood him more than almost anyone, and there was nothing to be upset about.

“Listen to me Steve Buckley, and listen well” Eddie began, his voice firm and filled to bursting with love. A shiver rolled down Steve’s spine, and a small spark of joy burst in his chest as he heard his full name. Even just that reminder was enough to tell him he was never going to be alone again. No matter what happened, he had Robin.

“I would be happy if we were living in a shoebox under an underpass. We can stop all this right now and live in the trailer for the rest of our lives. I don’t care where we are, or what we’re doing. I just want to come home to you."

And that was all he needed to hear. Steve already knew that, but now he understood it. Eddie might have to go on tour, or to record, or just need his own space, but this would be their home, and he would always come back to it.

To Steve.

“I love you so much,” Steve whispered, leaning forward for a kiss. It was a chaste thing, small and sweet but carrying the promise of everything that was to come.

“Well boys?” Their realtor said from the doorway. They instantly broke away, both turning to face her with fear. Sophie was watching them with a knowing smirk, holding her pad and pencil like she already was aware of what they were going to say.

“We'll take it,” Steve declared.

#stwgdailyprompt #steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #st drabble #steve and eddie #Steve harringtons parents #tw:neglect #Steve would be Steve Buckley before anything else and you can pry it from my cold dead hands #platonic stobin moment

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stvrni0lo · 11 months

Text

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: chris is intrigued by your skincare routine, so you offer to do it for him too

warnings/notes: none? lmk if i missed anything

requested?: yes!!! tysm for all of these requests u guys are so creative

> > >

You were in Chris’ ensuite bathroom, applying a cleanser to your face. There was nothing better than washing off the remainder off the day and committing to some self care before bed.

Hearing Chris enter the room, you let him know you’re in the bathroom as he follows you in. He sits on the edge of the bathtub next to you, watching you.

You begin to dab the water off your face as you reach into the cabinet to pull out a cream face mask.

“What’s that?” asked Chris.

“It’s a face mask,” you respond as you unscrew the cap, “it’s kind of like a moisturizer, except you keep it on for a few minutes and then wash it off.”

He takes a closer look at the substance, tilting his head.

“Can I try?”

You smile at him as you nod, taking out another spatula for him before setting the container onto the corner of the sink. Taking a bit of the mask onto the spatula, you begin demonstrating how to put it on.

“Okay, don’t put too much. A little goes a long way,” you explain.

Chris finds a headband of yours in one of the drawers and he sets his hair back before getting to work. His application is slow and gentle, as if he was scared to mess up. It was a bit messy, but he did a good job overall.

“What now?” he asked.

You giggle at his impatience. “We wait.”

Grabbing the spatula from him, you rinse it in the sink before placing it back in your skincare bag.

You look over at him, giggling at his confused state. It’s not like it was his first time doing skincare, but he had never done it with you before.

His white face stared at you under the bathroom light, smiling as he noticed that you both looked slightly ridiculous.

After spending some time watching tiktok together, you begin to wash off your mask.

You get a towel and run it under warm water before wiping away at your face slowly. It always felt gross to wipe off this stuff, but the warmth of the cloth against your face was nice. Turning to Chris, you raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to take it off for you?” you asked.

His eyes lit up as he nodded, sitting back down at the edge of the tub and closing his eyes.

Finishing yourself up, you took another small face cloth and repeated the action of putting it under warm water. You moved to stand in between his legs and Chris’ hands instinctively went to the back of your thighs, gripping you close.

You ran the wet towel against his forehead and cheeks, making sure to wipe any residue from his face. He tilted his head back to give you a better angle. The newfound access made it easier for you to clean him up.

“That feels really nice,” he whispered.

You kissed his chin as you finished up. “Let’s rinse our faces and moisturize.”

“I thought the mask was moisturizing?” he asked curiously.

“It is, yeah, but you need to apply some after anyway. It keeps the moisture in so your skin doesn’t dry out.

He nodded at your explanation, turning the tap on to splash some water on his face. After getting rid of the remaining bits of the face mask, you pulled out your favorite lotion and began slathering it onto your hands.

“Okay look at me,” you said to Chris.

He tapped his face with a towel quickly before turning to you, hands finding your waist immediately. He turned his head to look at you in the mirror, smiling at the way that you were looking at him, hands covered in face cream.

You turned his face towards you before you massaged the lotion into his skin. Rubbing small motions into his skin, you lathered it onto his neck as well, making sure to get it everywhere.

His hands tapped your waist in a random rhythm, humming an unfamiliar tune as you worked away. He began to sway you slightly, despite the lack of music.

“We should do this more often,” he said as he pulled you closer, grabbing your hand in his as you wrapped the other around his neck.

Dancing around on the spot, you responded with a silent ‘yeah’.

It was all you could say as your words were cut short from your throat. You couldn’t focus on anything but his eyes staring down at you, the arm around your waist soothing you into a rhythm with him as he urged you to keep slow dancing.

His lips found your forehead as he pressed a kiss to it. They then moved to your nose before finally connecting his mouth to yours.

You hugged him tighter, pressing your body into his as the dancing came to a halt.

Brushing his fingers along the hem of your shirt, he pulled back and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Alright, let me help you moisturize too.”

He set you up on the sink, settling in between your legs as he grabbed the cream from the cabinet and opened it.

After tonight, skincare routines became a nightly necessity for you both.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets x reader

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ─ 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟖𝟔

(young parents!eddie munson x reader)

more dad!eddie and pennyverse entries can be found on my masterlist

summary: After taking a pregnancy home test for funsies, you find out that you’re actually pregnant. The scariest part isn’t even the completely unexpected pregnancy, it’s telling Eddie.

warnings: use of an 80s pregnancy test, pregnancy (obvs), mention of periods, not much else.

a/n: based on this request and also based in the pennyverse (see masterlist). i usually always use up my friends’ extra pregnancy tests when they take them, so I’ve developed an irrational fear of this happening to me after writing it out lol. and i still can’t use the keep reading tab bc tumblr eats sections of my fics that i try to use it on so sorry about that and sorry about the formatting, tumblr also refuses to post this if I remove so much as a space. enjoy! let me know what you think (don’t be a dick)! 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were sat inside of the tub—void of any water—and had been for the past hour and a half. It was anything but comfortable. You weren’t paying attention to the ache in your back though, too focused on the vial you held between you fingers, rolling it between your middle and thumb finger while you were careful to avoid spilling the liquid it contained.

How you hadn’t thrown it out of your bedroom window yet, you had no clue. After all, it did kind of betray you. Nancy had a scare with Jonathan about two days prior and you’d gone with her to the pharmacy to pick up a couple of tests, held her hand as she panicked about how she couldn’t put off school to raise a baby but the liquid in her vial remained clear, and so did the next one she tried. While she’d been significantly relieved at the negative results, she couldn’t risk her mom finding the tests so you’d taken the remainder of them (she’d purchased six in total, talk about overdoing it) with the intentions of throwing them out. Then your stupid curiosity got the best of you. You blamed it on how interesting the actual test looked. While you had hated chemistry class, messing with actual liquids, chemicals, vials, and bunsen burners during the labs had greatly amused you.

The pregnancy test looked much too similar to a couple of those components, so you couldn’t resist. You’d peed in the tray, mixed it in with the clear liquid you’d poured into the provided vial, waited a couple of minutes for everything to combine and settle in there, then you placed a drop of the solution into the mixture. The result was unfortunately instant. You’d been fully expecting the same result as Nancy while you prepared the test but to your complete and utter surprise, the liquid in your vial turned a dark shade of blue. And so did the next one, and the one after that, and the last one. You were glad you’d chosen to do this at your parents’ house, you hadn’t wanted Eddie to get the wrong idea and your parents’ still had a room for you but you were interested in the ensuite bathroom connected to it—or else Eddie would have stumbled upon you passed out in the trailer.

You’d settled into the bathtub when it felt like your legs were going to give in as reality shifted around you. What the FUCK? You hadn’t even missed your periods! Sure, they never really came on time but that was because they’d always been irregular ever since Aunt Flo’s first visit! They’d been pretty light and brief, but that still had to count for something right? You groaned as you sunk further down in the tub, recalling all the times you and Eddie had neglected to use protection. You’d been on the pill since before you two even got together (that’s a different story, though) and sure, he occasionally wore a condom but that accounted for only about 15% of the times you had sex. The rest of the times, you’d simply put your faith in your little blue pill. How ironic was it that your birth control was the same color as the positive pregnancy result? Maybe you could laugh about it in the future, but for now, you were panicking about what to do next. You’d only been out of school for about five months, having graduated alongside the majority of your friends and your now-husband in June, and you hadn’t enrolled in a college because—well, you had no idea what you wanted to study or even if you wanted to study anything, so you’d chosen a job instead, which meant school wouldn’t be a problem for you. But telling your husband would be. You’d gotten married the same night of graduation, moved in (officially) with him and Wayne about a week later and you’d been in the honeymoon phase since. Wayne had started sleeping over a couple of trailer’s down at Maude Maple’s—you couldn’t blame him, Eddie wasn’t exactly quiet when you fucked—she was conveniently all alone after her son went away for college in the early fall and had taken quite the liking to her faithful neighbor who never failed to come to her rescue when some appliance of her’s ‘broke down’, meaning you and Eddie had the whole trailer to yourself the majority of the time. That’s probably how you ended up in this situation.

You’d have to tell Eddie. You shot up in the tub, gripping the side with your freehand as a wave of nausea turned in your stomach and you were pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with pregnancy symptoms. What would he do? What would he say? Would he leave you? Did he even want a baby right now? Of course not, he had ambitions and a baby would halt those! Yes, you talked about having kids before, but it was always future plans. This was happening right now.

You stood up, climbing out of the tub before you capped the vial. You hid it in one of the pockets lining your bag before you quickly got rid of the rest of the evidence, flushing other positive tests and loading your purse with all the trash to discard in a bin somewhere far from your parents’ house and the trailer, where no one could tie it back to you. Wait a minute, you thought as you clutched your bag to your chest. Pregnancy tests give false positives all the time! Maybe I just got a bad batch. Yeah, that’s it! I’ll just go to my doctor, and have this all blown over. You hadn’t experienced any symptoms (that couldn’t be blamed on PMS) and you didn’t feel any different, so could you really be pregnant? —

You were pregnant.

Not only had your doctor confirmed it, but she’d also informed you that you were about 22 weeks along. Even if you had wanted to get an abortion (which you hadn’t really considered seeing as how you had no idea you were pregnant until that morning), you wouldn’t be able to unless you had a serious medical condition. You’d tried to somehow argue your way out of her diagnosis, or whatever it was, by pointing out that your stomach was still normal, no major change to it as in no abnormally protruding baby bump but she’d informed you that your baby was most likely just nestled in there and, while it was rare, sometimes people didn’t show until late in their pregnancy. Then she’d weighed you and you were indeed a couple of pounds over, compared to what you could remember weighing last. And your periods? She chalked that up to hormone changes after she asked if you’d been experiencing any extreme changes in mood and you’d been able to recall the random bouts of frustration, irritation, sudden sadness, and yeah, that made sense. She’d said it’d most likely stop once you started relaxing.

If that hadn’t been proof enough for you, the figure on your sonogram was, along with the heartbeat you’d heard during the brief ultrasound. That had to have been the scariest part; you’d been expecting to see a tiny little blob—your fetus at an early stage—but your fetus was far enough developed to resemble a freaking baby and you just couldn’t wrap your head around actually being pregnant, a baby was inside of you at that very moment. Thinking about it made your brain produce no thoughts, just white noise.

You didn’t go home to Eddie that night, choosing to return back to your parents’ where you faked coming down with something and your mother insisted—like you knew she would—that you stay the night. You took dinner in your room, had your mom tell Eddie you weren’t feeling good and were sleeping it off—not a total lie—when he inevitably called. It was pretty shitty of you but you didn’t know what else to do and hiding out at your childhood home was your only way of avoiding your husband.

You hadn’t been able to sleep. Not with what you now knew. Almost hesitantly, you unbuttoned the shirt of your ridiculous, Winnie the Pooh pajamas and rested your palm just below your belly button, trying to feel any movement from the baby growing there.

While you couldn’t feel anything on the outside, your mind wandered to last week, when you’d been laying on your tummy and felt an odd sensation that you attributed to a silent stomach rumble—though it didn’t feel much like your stomach—, your body just letting you know you were hungry. It had happened a couple more times—all of which you’d been stomach down—and now you were sure it had been the baby inside of you, maybe protesting about being squished. You certainly wouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach anymore, now that you were aware of the new resident in your womb.

It didn’t even surprise you that you were starting to think of ways to go about making sure your baby was okay in there; while you were scared shitless as most unexpected first time moms-to-be are, there was part of you that wanted to know more about that little human growing inside of you. Would they look more like Eddie or more like you? Would they have his pretty, baby cow eyes or would they have yours? And what about the hair, would it be more like yours or more like his messy curls? Then you warmed, because you had a part of him literally inside of you; you were carrying his baby. While the news of your pregnancy had been daunting to say the least, you were finding that you didn’t completely fear the idea of it. No, what you feared was Eddie’s reaction.

You were thinking of ways you could somehow avoid him, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to for long. You weren’t showing yet but you would be, probably sooner rather than later. If, for some reason, he didn’t notice—someone else would and word would get back to him.

Frustrated with your predicament, you grabbed one of your throw pillows from next to you and held it over your face to muffle your screams. The sound of knuckles rapping against your window interrupted you and you froze, blood running cold. There was only one person it could be, and it was the very person you didn’t want to actively see at the moment.

You were positive he could see you, though, and you didn’t want him to think you were trying to smother yourself to death so you reluctantly set the pillow back in it’s place at your side and got up to confront your fears, if not for you then for the little one inside you. Eddie was grinning as you approached your window, pulling it open before stepping back so he could climb in.

“Hey, Thumper,” he greeted as he righted himself, stretching his arms up after he’d kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off. Once he was standing at full height, he leaned back against the window frame, pretty doe eyes taking you in from head to toe, “How you feelin’? You okay, baby?”

“I’m all right, Bambi,” you lied, willing your body to relax. “My head hurts, that’s all.”

Eddie eyed you skeptically before he closed the distance between you two, hands moving up to cradle your face as he leaned in for a kiss. Like butter, you melted; eyes fluttering shut as your body fully relaxed and your mind went all fuzzy. You’d been married for six months now and you were beginning to realize the effect he had on you would never go away. Unless he did. Your anxiety came rushing right back and you pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“What are you doing here?” You rushed to ask, taking note of the concern written on his face as he stared down at you. “I was worrying myself sick about you. I knew you weren’t feeling good, plus I can’t sleep without you, so if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad. . .”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, posture stiff and awkward as you stared back up at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t meant to say it, it kind of just came out on its own but now that it was out there, there was no taking it back.

You studied his face, your heartbeat pounding against your chest with the suspense as you watched his eyebrow quirk up, his pink lips parting slightly in surprise.

Eddie swallowed hard once, mouth continuing to open and close like he was a fish instead of a human, “I’m sorry—what?”

He opened the flood gates again, you couldn’t contain the word vomit, you just kept talking, “I’m pregnant. Like, I am really pregnant, man. I only literally just found out and I was thinking maybe the home tests were bad—all four of them—but they were not because I went to the doctor since I couldn’t believe it ‘cause I didn’t know I was pregnant but she said I was and then I saw it for myself and now I am actively aware of the baby inside me like some sort of chest hugger—except it’s in my womb and I’m gonna have to give birth and I am really freaking the fuck out because I don’t know what we’re gonna do since we didn’t exactly talk about having a baby right away and I know you had plans and this is kind of getting in the way of them and that’s what I didn’t want because I want you to do everything you love and I wanna be by your side while you do it and I’m not gonna lie, I actually wouldn’t mind having this baby since it’s me and you but I don’t want you to leave me over this—“

You were silenced when Eddie gently placed his palm over your mouth, effectively stopping your verbal onslaught and keeping you from working yourself into a panic attack.

“Hey, hey—hey, you gotta calm down, honey. You’re upsetting yourself,” his hand slid from over your mouth to the back of your neck, rubbing at the tense muscles there. “Breathe for me, baby.”

You knew he was right, you were practically shaking in your fuzzy socks. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm your breathing while Eddie mumbled encouraging words, pressing kisses to your forehead until you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on yourself. Eddie would hold the rest of you together, like he always did. You wrapped your arms around his middle, snuggling into his chest.

Eddie indulged you, soothing you with cuddles before he pulled back just enough to look at you, while he had managed to calm you down, you could still see the surprise in his dark gaze as he whispered, “You-You’re pregnant?”

You feared your mouth would run free again, so you remained silent, nodding a couple of times as you nibbled on your lower lip, waiting for Eddie to lose it, to blow a gasket. Seeing you this upset pained Eddie. He could see the fear in your glossy eyes, the quiver in your plump lower lip as you stared up at him, waiting for his response. He tried not to take it personal, knew where your insecurities lied and how much you valued him over yourself. If there was one thing Eddie wished he could change, it’d be the way you saw yourself. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes; you were absolutely perfect to and for him. He couldn’t imagine life without you and he didn’t ever want to, so the notion that he would even consider leaving you was blasphemy. He wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant. Had this happened in high school or something, he might have freaked out a little but he still wouldn’t have ever considered leaving you.

Now, it just seemed like the opportune time for this exact scenario. You were already married, so people couldn’t say Baby Munson was a bastard and kids came next after marriage, right? It didn’t matter when you two had them—to him, at least. He knew he’d be a good dad, he wouldn’t be anything like his. Not the bad parts of him. And Eddie knew you’d be an amazing mother, had seen you handle the kid part of your friend group plenty of times.

When he said your name, so tenderly, it made you want to cry, and a tear did slip down your cheek but Eddie was quick to halt it, wiping it away with his thumb, “Listen to me, ‘kay? I’m uh—I’m definitely a little shocked, but there isn’t even a small percentage of me that doesn’t want to have a mini you running around. And my plans? Baby, you are my plans. From the moment I hung out with you in the back of my van at that shitty party, I knew I needed you in my life. Now, you are my life. The only plans I have, are to live happily ever after—and all that gooey, sappy shit I’ll never publicly admit to loving—with you. Everything else that happens is filler stuff, okay? You—and you,” he reached a hand down to rest again the skin of your stomach, rings cool against your flesh, still exposed as your shirt had remained unbuttoned, “—are the only things that matter to me. I love you, and every extension of you—of us.”

You sniffled, nodding your head a couple of times again before he leant down and you met him halfway, lips pressing together in a messy kiss, wet with your tears and Eddie’s. You pulled away once you realized he was crying, too, but he rushed to wipe his tears away, bashful. “Shut up, I have the right to be a little emotional, okay? It’s just been confirmed to me that I’m gonna be a dad, that’s some pretty big, fucking good news.”

You leaned in to kiss a stray tear off his cheek, licking it off your lips as you peered up at him in curiosity, “Confirmed?”

Eddie laughed as you squinted up at him, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “You nearly bit Argyle’s head off when he brought that pizza to movie night last month, baby.” “He forgot the bell peppers after I called him multiple times to remind him!” “And when you were helping Will out with his art project, you kept crying because it made you emotional,” he added, recalling the way you were silently crying as you painted the area of the canvas Will had asked you to touch up. “It was a very moving scene he depicted!” “Not to mention how many times I’ve cum in you. Honestly, the only reason I’m surprised is because I kind of expected this to happen sooner.”

You winced as his brazen words, normally they got the waterpark down there flowing but you could tell he was trying to get a reaction out of you, “Jesus, Eddie. Your breeding kink is showing.”

He winked, walking you backwards towards the bed, though it didn’t seem like his intentions were sexual, or at least not as sexual as he usually was when he fully intended on ravaging you. Once you fell back onto it, he clambered over you, hands moving either side of your night shirt away. He pressed a kiss to both of your breasts, mumbling a quick ‘my girls!’ before he focused his attention on the lower part of your stomach, suddenly fascinated at the sight of it.

“So, there’s a baby in there?” He asked, index finger trailing circles over your soft skin, just above your pelvis and the hem of your pajama pants.

“Mhm,” you hummed, then you remembered the sonogram and threw him off of you to run to your purse. Eddie watched you in amusement, lounging on his side, as you dug around in it. Once you’d found both the vial and the sonogram, you returned to the bed, crawling next to him as you handed him both. “What’s this?” He asked, admiring the blue liquid in the sealed vial.

“Chemicals and stuff, I’m pretty sure, and my pee.” He didn’t miss a beat, “That’s really hot.”

“Shut up, it’s my pregnancy test,” suddenly, Eddie was cradling it in his palm like it was the most precious thing in the world, “and this is your kid.”

You held the sonogram up and Eddie stared at it with wonderment, carefully setting the vial down on your old nightstand before he reached for the sonogram. You let him pluck it from your grasp, watching him in slight awe yourself, as he stared hard at it, easily able to make out the baby’s shape despite the lack of decent lighting. He trailed a finger over it gently, as if he was actually stroking his baby instead of outlining his baby’s form in the sonogram picture. When he looked back at you, his eyes were shining with the promise of more tears as he whispered, “This is our baby?” You nodded as your own eyes began to gloss over, choked up at how much Eddie seemed to love the little one growing inside of you already, “That’s our baby.”

“Holy shit,” He mumbled, gaze focused on the sonogram again before he seemed to come to some sort of realization and his head snapped back to you. “H-How far along are you?”

You pinched your bottom lip between your fingers, nervously as you answered, “Uhm, she said I’m about 22 weeks along now.”

You really loved Eddie’s eyes, so big, brown and pretty, but as big as they were, they could definitely get bigger. Like they were right then as he silently mouthed the latter half of your sentence before he found his voice again, “22 weeks? That’s—That’s five months!” You nodded in agreement, watching as he went through the same sort of emotions you had when the doctor had told you. “That only gives us like what—four months to prepare? Fuck, I have to baby proof so many things, and I have to build a crib, we’ve got to get carseats, what else do we need to raise a baby?”

“We can figure it out in the morning, I am ready to collapse,” you laughed as you took the sonogram from his hand and placed it on the nightstand near your pregnancy test before you pushed him back into the pillows, and unbuttoned his jeans. Eddie lifted his hips to allow you to tug them off and discard them at the end if your bed, then you curled into your place at his side, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent; woodsy (curtesy of the cheap cologne he used), with the slight scent of marijuana but you were even more pleased when you didn’t smell any traces of cigarettes, he’d given them up two months ago. You cuddled for a few minutes, but the exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to you. Eddie’s hand stroked over your back, lulling you further to sleep. Before you could fully slip under though, he asked, “Did you happen to find out the sex?” “Mhm,” You mumbled, sleepily as you pressed a lazy kiss to his collar bone.

“You gonna share with the class?” You could hear the amusement in his voice and you smiled against his skin at the mere thought of the pretty grin he no doubt had on his face. Eddie loved to talk to you when you were on the cusps of sleep for some reason. Thought it was endearing. “‘M not in school,” you slurred, eyes fluttering shut completely. “How are you such a smartass even when you’re half asleep?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You chuckled along with him, snuggling further into him. He thought you’d finally fallen asleep after you didn’t answer him, but he was rewarded five minutes later when you mumbled out, “’S a girl.”

A girl. He was gonna be a dad to a little girl. Eddie closed his eyes and he could practically envision her, a little miniature version of you; with your cute nose and your pretty features. Would she have your eyes or his? Would her hair be as unruly as his or more like yours? Maybe if he put a headset over your tummy and played some cool tunes, she’d come out with an appreciation for Metallica. He’d thought four months was pretty soon, earlier, but now it seemed like a century away, he was already eager to meet her. Soon, he mused, a hand moving to rest over your stomach.

Soon.

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serosblunt · 9 months

Note

If u can, could u do showering with dekusquad?

I sure can my lovely, thank you so much for the request! I don’t write much for the Dekusquad so hopefully I don’t disappoint you x

DekuSquad: Showering with Them (Pt. 1)

DekuSquad x (Gender-neutral) reader

Characters: Midoriya and Todoroki

Warnings: Mentions of nudity and hints at spicer scenes, mental health struggles; insecurity and depression are very lightly touched on.

Description: Same as my Bakusquad showering thoughts, just with Dekusquad! Part two will feature Iida, Uraraka and Tsuyu :)

—————

Izuku believes that relationships are first and fore-mostly built on respect, and this extends to every aspect of your lives together.

Even before you were dating, his level of respect for you knew no bounds, to the point that you had to finally make the first move and ask HIM out.

He was too worried that asking you out would somehow demean the relationship or you.

In the bathroom, and bedroom for that matter, Midoriya clearly displays this inhuman level of courtesy.

Even if the door is open, eagerly inviting him in, he always ensures he knocks before entering the room. Once he does make it into your shared ensuite, if you’re nude or in the process of undressing, he refuses to let his eyes drift from yours without express permission.

You’d honestly be amazed by the amount of self-control he possess, considering Izuku’s reckless tendencies.

As a child, Inko used to always put your green haired lover in the bathtub to wash up. This was a habit he carried through to his adult life, favouring the warm embrace of the water surrounding him from all sides.

But Izuku’s hero career took a toll on him. And as he still learnt to get a handle on his quirk, your boyfriend coming home with a cast was not an uncommon sight.

Trying to navigate waterproof coverings for the plaster, and often being left to wash himself one handed, usually forced you both into the shower.

He saw how carefully you handled him when he was like that. Despite the event becoming less and less common the stronger he became, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty every time you sighed a long breath you thought he couldn’t hear.

In Izuku’s eyes, you were at your most natural state in the bathroom, both mentally and physically. He saw your walls come down as you let the spray of your shower embrace you, washing away some of your worry and his guilt.

Hearing the soft hum of the falling water became quite meditative to him. He would often sit in the next room and listen to you singing softly, healing yourself.

Izuku was your hero, he would always have your back, but he also knew there were some things he had to let you do yourself.

Midoriya didn’t really have a skincare routine, at least for his face. He was too busy trying to torture himself into being the next All Might to have a five step routine. But his wounds and injuries did regularly need tending to with any number of creams, ointments and bandages.

Perhaps out of remorse, or more likely another way to demonstrate his undying affection for you, your boyfriend would often slather you in these same products for even the tiniest of injuries you received.

A paper cut?! Oh no! He has to find the antibacterial wash, healing balm and themed bandaids immediately!

He acts like you could lose a finger, but it’s okay. Good thing you think his concern is adorable.

It would be safe to say that your ensuite was the heart of your home- it kept beating, kept repeating the same pattern, and kept you both running for each other.

He was there for you to lean on and curl into to forget the world entirely. And you were there for him to collapse into, allowing him to remember his safe haven was still a safe place.

Shoto strives to show you all five love languages each day, he could never be convinced that you don’t deserve the best of everything the world has to offer.

But try as he might, his love of gift giving quite often exceeds the other languages by some distance.

Although Shoto rejects his father, his money does come in handy when it comes to buying you all the expensive self-care products you add to your wish list, often accompanied by a longing sigh.

Little do you know.

What can he say? He loves to spoil you.

When it came to his own skincare routine, the young Todoroki was already quite rigid about this process before he met you. He had trialled product after product for years on end to aid the prolonged effects of his scar.

He had even toyed with the idea of cosmetic surgery at one point. Ultimately, you managed to convince him that his scar was something to display- a mark of his family’s impact on him, no matter how he may feel about them.

Similarly, you were very secure in the knowledge that if your boyfriend wanted your advice on the subject, he would absolutely ask for it. But in the meantime, you left him to his accumulated mix of products, knowing that if nothing else, it helped him come to terms with himself and the way things were.

Long-term Shoto chose to nurture the mark on his face, rather than to try and rid himself of it.

Now, you…

Shoto adores you entirely, with every fibre of his being. And in his mind, there is no better opportunity to worship you than in the bathroom.

He can’t help but to admire how far you’ve come and how comfortable you’ve grown to be in your skin- a journey you’ve both being on parallel to each other.

He glances around the room itself, inspired by how you’ve created the perfect sanctuary in a slice of the home you had both carved out for yourselves.

If you were ever confronted with this information, he knew you would adamantly deny it. Though he saw the growth.

He worships your beauty and the marks of your struggles and courage. He marvels at your history, his history, all bared out on your skin like a map back to the heart of the person he loved most.

Todoroki could admit that his ‘words of affirmation’ had been lacking lately. Perhaps he would present you with a bunch of your favourite flowers, and those words he so desperately wanted you to hear, carefully concealed in an envelope.

He would lead you to the shower, as was custom most nights. He would then gently kiss his reassurances and praise into every inch of your skin before he bundled you up in his arms, letting the world fade away as you became entangled beneath the mist.

In those moments, Shoto knew the meaning of heaven on earth.

—————

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vertigoed · 1 year

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tinder 3.0 || fuckboy!satoru gojo

synopsis : in which you match with satoru gojo, tokyos most seeked after bachelor

summary: fem!reader, toxic!satoru

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

it is mandatory to imagine this version of gojo when reading this part :) thank u hehe

you wake up to an empty bed, feeling hungover as your groggy eyes try to adjust to the bright sunlight shining through the french windows. you look around at your surroundings as you feel the soft silk sheets underneath you. the room was opulent with plush carpeting and decorated with expensive looking artwork, some of which you recognised as takashi murakami's.

you wondered where satoru was as you check your phone to see the time- it was almost mid day. "fuck," you groaned, not realising you slept in so much.

you swing your legs over to the side of the bed and tread your way to the ensuite. you couldn't help but gasp at the extravagance of the space. the bathroom was adorned with gold fixtures, marbled floors and sparkling chandelier hanging over the huge sunken bathtub in the middle.

"he must have rich fucking parents," you muttered.

once you've freshened up, you make your way downstairs in search of your clothes from last night. you had the fright of your life when you walked into a small framed suited man sitting in the lounge room, reading a newspaper.

he looked equally as shocked and hastily stood up from his seat, giving you a bow.

"nice to meet you y/n, i'm kiyotaka ichiji. gojo asked me to drop you off home."

"oh!" you said awkwardly, "are you his chauffeur?"

the man chuckled flatly at your question and shook his head, "i'm his co-worker but i can see why you may get that impression. are you ready to leave?"

you look down at satoru's shirt and pants you were wearing, shifting your weight from one foot to another. "i'm definitely missing clothes but i don't want to waste your time any further so yeah i'm ready to go!"

as much as you could appreciate satoru's gesture of arranging a ride, you wished he would've given you a heads up that a stranger will be waiting for you in his apartment.

after a painfully long car ride, you thank ichiji and sprint out, taking the stairs instead of the elevator as you didn't want to risk running into any of your neighbours.

once you get into the comfort of your four walls, you throw yourself onto your bed and let out a sigh, feeling like you can finally breathe.

the past 24 hours felt like a crazy whirlwind of experiences and you felt like you came back from another universe. you take a look around at your humble abode and couldn't help but compare the contrast of your lifestyle to his.

you knew you were helplessly falling for someone who was on a whole different class from you and you drift off to sleep with pessimistic thoughts and a fatigued body.

you wake up 15 hours later with a headache, feeling like absolute shit from sleeping half the day. you don't check your phone until you've showered and scoffed down a hot meal. you then open up satoru's tinder messages.

gojo: i can't stop thinking about last night

gojo: give me your number

you notice he sent this at 2pm and you look at the current time which was 2am. you quickly text him back your digits, tightly clutching your glass of water as you watch the bubbles pop up showing that he was typing.

gojo: u take a whole day to reply to me

gojo: what could u possibly be doing that made u too busy for me 🤣

you narrow your eyes and take a sip, he was acting uncalled for. the toxic part of you wanted to play games with him. he didn't have to know you were actually passed out from being fucked out too hard by him.

you: i dont have my tinder notifications on

satoru didn't reply to that and this time round, you don't hear back from him for a very long time.

three months later

you feel your phone ring and pull it out to see who was calling you during class. you frown at the unknown number and press the decline button, thinking it was a scam call.

once your lecture has finished, nobara dragged you off to a mixer, ignoring your protests as per usual.

"i told you to dress nice today," she tuts at your outfit as you made your way to the bar.

"i hate going to mixers and you know that," you rolled your eyes, looking down at your sweater and pants.

you enter the bar and nobara waves at the two college guys that were arranged for the mixer. only one of them had an enthusiastic smile on their faces.

"i dibs the pink hair guy," nobara whispered to you.

"hey guys!" the pink haired boy beams at both of you as you sit yourself across from the dark haired one, "i'm yuji and this is megumi."

the megumi guy gives a curt nod, barely smiling. he didn't seem too interested in this gathering as well.

"i'm nobara and this is y/n," your friend greets him back and you give a small smile.

nobara and yuji instantly hit it off, passionately raving to each other about some show they both watch. you sigh in boredom, watching the bubbles in your beer pop as you tune in and out of their conversation.

megumi was dead silent, his position mirroring yours with his arms tightly crossed against his chest and his eyes staring into blank space.

"what's up with you guys?"

your head shoots to yuji who was gesturing at you and megumi.

"what do you mean?" you straighten your back.

"you guys look dead," nobara chimed in, taking a sip of her drink, she clicks her fingers at you "come on, i want to see some talking."

you and megumi meet eyes for a brief second before he looks away. you turn back to the other two with a forced smile, but your eyes were begging them to stop.

"we're comfortable with the silence," you shrugged, "you can't force a conversation between us, what if we just don't feel like chatting?"

"don't you want to get to know megumi?" yuji sounded almost hurt.

"she's hooked on this old rich dude who ghosted her two months ago," nobara speaks up. you noticed megumi raise his brows, causing you to kick her under the table and she hastily added, "i mean, not like super old, just older. besides the point, that's why i dragged her along to this mixer, hoping we can find a replacement for her."

"i see," yuji nodded and suddenly perked up, "well i like your honesty nobara!"

thankfully the food came to the rescue, saving you from this uncomfortable conversation. you busy yourself by stuffing your mouth with the karage and takoyaki, washing down every bite with beer and lemon sours.

eventually, you're on your third pint of beer and nobara and yuji were both passed out in their seats, refusing to wake up, leaving poor megumi to put up with your drunken rants.

"honestly," you drawl, slamming your fist onto the table and leaning into megumi, who looked bored out of his mind, "i really do hate him megumi, i do. i just wish he'd fuck off and i wish i never met him."

"he did fuck off," he stated. his cheeks were flushed pink from alcohol but he was the most sober one out of everyone.

"that's true," you nodded, resting your head against your palms, feeling pathetic for sulking over a one night stand. your head was aching from it constantly pounding.

"how are we going to take care of these two?" megumi changed the subject, gesturing at the bodies.

"well, i definitely can't carry any of them."

"i should've just stayed home," he closed his eyes while tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

you miserably nodded in agreement. you reach for your phone in your pocket and your heart drops when you find it to be empty.

"fuck! where's my phone?"

"when did you last have it?" megumi rolled his eyes, clearly not caring about your newfound dilemma.

you think back and realise you must have left it in the lecture room. you bury your head in the table, feeling even worse and begin slamming your forehead.

"i'm so fucking stupid," you said in between hits.

"okay, you're way too drunk right now, relax, just get it tomorrow," megumi placed his hand in between your head and the table.

you raise your head and his gaze softens at the sight of your tears. he tosses some tissues at you, his voice noticeably lighter, "come outside for a smoke, fresh air will sober you up a bit."

you follow him out, wiping away at your eyes. megumi offered you a cigarette which you accepted. you let him light the end for you.

you don't notice his dark eyes staring into you as he leaned up against the wall, his cigarette mingling in the warm summer breeze.

"you smoke often?" he asked.

"only when drunk, but-"

"gojo sensei?"

you tense at the name and slowly turned to where megumi was looking at. your breath hitches when you see the white haired man you were moping over standing right before your eyes.

his hair was shorter and messier with a new undercut. he looked like he had been working out with his tight-fitting shirt accentuating his bulging biceps and broad shoulders even further.

your eyes trail over to the beautiful, dark haired girl hanging onto his arms. you quickly looked away from the pair when the girl caught you staring.

"megumi!" satoru smiled, taking his hand away from the woman to give him a wave, his eyes flickered to your cigarette in your hand before he flashed a smile at you, "and y/n! what are you two doing here?"

"wait, how do you know gojo?" megumi turned to you with a bewildered expression.

your mouth opened and closed and you look over at satoru, hoping he'd say something, but of course, he enjoyed watching you squirm under pressure.

"we don't really know each other, i think we met once at a family event," you lied, glaring at the man who was trying to stifle his laugh.

megumi blinked at you with a blank face but didn't say anything. fuck does he know i'm lying? you think to yourself.

the girl was eyeing you up and down with her lips tightly pursed, suspecting something was off from the way satoru kept shamelessly focusing checking you out.

she nudges satoru to introduce her. he quickly clears his throat with a smile and said, "excuse my manners guy, i forgot to introduce my date, this is julia-"

"julie."

"that's what i said," satoru continued and wrapped his hand around the girl's hip in the exact same way he held onto you and her scowl instantly softened into a smile.

you and julie were no different from each other.

"anyway, catch me up with what's going on with you two. how on earth do you guys know each other?"

you sighed under your breath realising the juxtaposition and take a long draw from your cigarette. your night couldn't get any worse than this.

"yuji dragged me to a mixer and i met her there," megumi replied with a shrug, glancing at you, "okay, well, have fun on your date."

"i'm just going to go back in as well," you announced and turn to walk in.

"okay-"

"i'm calling a taxi for julie now, any of you guys need a ride home?" satoru cuts megumi off. his blue eyes looking straight at you.

"i'm going to taxi with nobara," you answered, avoiding satoru's burning gaze.

you glance over at satoru's date who looked appalled at the current situation and felt a pang of guilt.

"i got my car," megumi replied dryly, "we're going back in, see you around sensei."

you don't look back at the couple and quickly follow megumi back into the bar. your blood was pumping at this point. it was infuriating that satoru was offering you a ride home when he was on another date as if he had no respect for either of you or julie.

does he really think you're that low?

you knew you had to down another pint of beer to wash away the frustration burning inside of you. megumi watched you throw back the drink in one chug, letting out a burp. he grimaced in disgust at your lack of manners.

"so what's the relationship between you two? you guys seem pretty close," you asked, wiping your mouth.

"he was my high school teacher but he looked after me when i was a kid," megumi answered, "are you into him?"

"no," you lied with a scoff but you knew your cheeks were flushed from that question.

"well you should probably drop all interest now. during the 12 years i've known him, he's never been tied down," said megumi before adding, "unless you're into the one night stands and being treated with no respect."

his words felt like a blade digging into your heart, bruising your ego and shattering the little hope you had. you don't answer for a bit and play with the hair tie around your wrist.

"well, good thing i'm not interested in your teacher."

"you are a terrible liar," megumi gives a small smirk, "let me guess, gojo is the guy you've been crying over. he fucked you and now you can't get over him?"

your jaw dropped, shocked that megumi could be so blunt when he seemed like such a reserved guy. your shoulders fall and you let out a dramatic sigh. you knew there was no point in denying the truth.

so you reveal everything to the guy who was raised by satoru gojo. one of those drunken moments that your sober self will soon enough come to regret.

----------

you check the missed calls and messages when you find your phone the next morning. your eyes widen at the string of messages from the same unknown number that was calling you.

2:09PM it's me satoru pick up my call, im free tonight wanna hang?

11:00PM u like fucking little boys like megumi?

1:00am: he cant fuck u like i do

you scoffed at the nerve of this man to be acting jealous when he was the one who ghosted you for three months.

9:00am: don't worry he wasn't little

you sent the message without thinking, then instantly regret it as soon as it delivered. you pray satoru doesn't bring you up to megumi, otherwise you would have some very awkward explaining to do.

you brush off the jittery feeling and bite back a grin, placing your screen down so you can focus on your studying. couple of minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

9:10am: are you angry at me love?

9:11am: if it makes u feel better ur mouth and pussy feels better than hers . its unfair how good u feel .

9:12am: i know you've been thinking about me too

you bite the inside of your cheek until you taste metal and you hastily put your phone on do not disturb, ignoring the warm fuzziness building up inside you. you squeeze your thighs to relieve some tension and strain your eyes onto the words but your brain was processing no information.

you had your mid term exams coming up and you had no time to be playing into his games but, your mind kept on drifting onto that particular night and like an annoying itch, you were desperate to scratch it for some relief.

as if your body had its mind of its own, your fingers begin to type out a message despite nobara's voice ringing in your head.

"ugh, he hasn't been texting you because he's busy fucking his other matches, get over it."

"you fucked him once. it was a one night stand. have some self respect and get yourself a boy our age, you're better than this!"

but nobara was wrong, you weren't better than this.

in fact, you don't think you've even been this low in your life before.

11am: ur right, i've been thinking about you

ok so nobara isnt a sorcerer in this but megumi and yuji are . this is set after the culling games and lets just be delusional and pretend nobody died, gojo won and its all sunshine and rainbows

TAGLIST: @mc-reborn @cherrymoon4 @creolequeen11210

lmk if you'd to be added to the taglist!!!! ❤️

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen

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softpascalito · 8 months

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Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Thirteen

Playing with hair (SFW) - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Joel works in construction in Jackson. During his lunch breaks, he always comes home to you. When you notice a talent of his you hadn't known about, he opens up about the past.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 1000

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Jackson Era, Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Forehead Kisses, Idiots in Love, Healthy Relationship, Mentions of Death, Joel play the Guitar, Good Parent Joel, Single Parent Joel

AO3 LINK

notes: hello! today is one of the rare sfw pieces that doesn't have any kinks (unless your kink is having a soft, comforting partner and a healthy relationship).

while there isn't a specific song mentioned here, feel free to listen to future days in the joel version (if you are emotionally stable enough to).

_______________________________

Two decades after the outbreak Joel Miller is working in construction again.

He prefers patrols to days on site, mostly because he prefers Infected to humans. At least he can kill the former when they get too close.

The grueling days that are filled with shoveling dirt, fixing roofs and sewing wood almost feel like they did back in Texas, the weather making them almost unbearable. Only now unbearably cold instead of hot.

Joel goes home during lunch break. The first few times, there's whistling behind him as he does, one of the men yelling after him.

“Can't go a few hours without that girl of yours, Miller?”

He clenches his jaw. He keeps walking. Joel knows better than to pick a fight.

When he finally gets home, he immediately finds you and buries his face in your hair.

It becomes a daily ritual.

He doesn't care how many comments or weird looks his colleagues throw at him. He just wants to be home. To feel at home.

Today, he doesn't find you downstairs, where you are usually busy with one task or another. He distantly remembers that it's your day off and is just checking the laundry room when he hears a small noise from upstairs. The smell reaches him as he steps onto the upstairs landing of the wooden house and he smiles to himself as he heads straight for the ensuite bathroom you share. The air inside is warm and humid and his smile widens as he spots you in the bathtub. No other sight could relax him like this.

You put your book down as you notice him and return his smile with a gentle one of your own. Your gaze stays on him as he pulls off his jacket and boots and sits down on the edge of the tub, leaning over the water to press a gentle kiss to your lips. Automatically, his hand finds your hair and he brings you closer for a split moment before pulling back, just gazing down at you as his fingers gently brush through your hair. There is a comfortable silence between you for a while.

“We should put the record player in here. 'd be nice to have some music while taking a bath.” You hum and Joel pauses for a moment, clearly considering something before he gets up and heads back into the bedroom.

For a moment you think he is going to follow your suggestion and come back carrying the record player you spend so much time in front of. But he comes carrying something else and your heart jumps a bit as you recognize him holding his guitar. Your face softens a bit as you watch him gently close the door. Joel doesn't usually play for people, instead just strumming away on the back porch after a long day. Always the back porch. Never the front one.

He sits down next to the tub, adjusting the guitar strings for a few moments before he gently starts to play. It sounds like a song you've heard before but you're sure it must've been a long time ago. Joel's voice is low as he begins to sing and you close your eyes, sighing softly.

He helps you out of the tub afterwards, cleaning up the bathroom as you throw on one of his flannels and some sweats. You're sitting on the bed when he comes up from behind, running his hands through your hair again. He grabs a few hair ties from your bedside table, expertly wrapping them around his wrist before he gently starts pulling on your hair.

You frown, chuckling a bit: ”What are you doing?”

He just hums, gently placing one section over the other, his hands still so used to the motions. Slowly, he braids one side of your hair and then moves on to the other.

His touch is relaxing and you lean back, letting him work in silence. As he secures the last hair tie and runs his hands over the smooth braids, you finally speak up: ”I didn't know you knew how to do that.”

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your head:” I think it's the one I remember best.”

“What, you jobbed as a hairstylist before the outbreak or something?”

He smiles a bit, his voice softening as he speaks, ”No. But I was a single dad.”

It feels like your heart leapt down into your stomach. You whisk around, the apology already on your lips. ”Joel-”

“Don't. It's- It's okay,” he mumbles, still stroking your hair as he looks down at you. ''Thought I'd forgotten how to do it. Think I did forget it for a while, actually. Then I saw the kids here in Jackson, running around. Reckon I remembered then.”

You stay quiet, simply allowing him to go on as he sits down next to you and your hand automatically finds his.

“I never wanted her to miss out on- on all that, just because her mom wasn't there to do it. For a while, I just let her wear her hair open, but she would come back home, tell me about how her friends had such pretty hairstyles. So, when she was at soccer camp, I took a- a class at the community college on a weekend. They taught me how to do the different braids and all that.”

He pauses for a moment, ”After that, I did her hair before school while she had breakfast. We would listen to the radio. Just sit there and-” Joel shakes his head slowly, ”I don't know. It was a long time ago.”

“Thank you for telling me. And for- for braiding mine,” you whisper and you can't help but think about how much you love this man. How you'd do anything for him.

He squeezes your hand in response.

When he comes home during lunch break after that day, he still finds you, still buries his nose in your hair. Sometimes he braids it. Sometimes he remembers a new braid he thought he'd forgotten. He hadn't. He had just stored it away, waiting until he would need it again. Waiting for you.

Now you were here. The wait was over.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #kinktober #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller / reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller / you #hurt/comfort #sarah miller #playing with hair #braiding hair

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