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reve-writes · 1 year

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—the set-up; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1,8k words. ʚ from this request. | three times the crows plan to set you and kaz up + the one time they find out you're married. ʚ fluff; the crows are featured (incl. wesper & helnik ship); kaz's touch aversion isn't featured. ʚ a/n this has been sitting in the drafts for a bit. ive been suffering down the leon brainrot hole (honestly an excellent one to fall into). kaz calls reader schatje (i have a fic where he does this. i chose schatje because ketterdam is loosely inspired from 1500s-1700s amsterdam!). i wrote this in a goofy way honestly.

one. he smiles.

Wylan fiddles with jars and tubes filled with an assortment of chemicals—some of them tend to explode, all of them horrible smelling. He's supposed to be on guard duty and he prefers it over running around guns blazing alongside Jesper—as much as he loves the sharpshooter, gunshots give him a lot of anxiety.

He peers into the room where most of the work is happening.

You are poring over stacks of documents, eyes scanning quickly top-to-bottom to find relevant information. Kaz has his ear pressed against the front of a safe, gloved hand twisting the lock. You move around him in the cramped office space with relative ease, grabbing more files to read on the desk.

It doesn't take long for the safe to swing open.

“No safe is safe from Kaz Brekker, the safe-cracker, huh?” you comment. A light, teasing smile decorates your lips.

“Please never say that sentence again.”

To Wylan's surprise, the ever-frowning Dirtyhands smiles. Not the half-hearted hospitable smile he occasionally gives out, or the scary half-sneer half-smirk that is so intimidating it scares even Wylan sometimes. No, a genuine, amused smile. It is so unnatural that he has to look away, a hand clasped over his mouth in shock.

When he tells Jesper, the taller man mirrors his reaction, dark eyes blown wide and jaw unhinged.

“He smiled?” Jesper gives an incredulous stare as if Wylan has just told him that he is a member of the Council of Tide—which is impossible with Wylan's lack of Grisha ability, let alone tidemaking. “He smiled over that?”

Wylan nods enthusiastically.

“We are talking about the same Kaz?”

“Are there any other Kaz that we know?” Wylan sighs.

“Well, no—”

“I think we have to proceed with the plan,” Wylan ponders. Jesper blinks widely.

“The plan?”

“Nina's plan!” Wylan looks at Jesper as if he's just gotten a strike of inspiration, hand in the air, pointing at nothing in particular. “Operation Kaz and ____. Remember?”

Jesper remembers. It was so ridiculous that it remains impossible to remove from his memory to this day, even though it was mentioned in passing.

Nina, flushed red from too many drinks, suddenly shoots her hand up, flailing it limply. The founder of the idea seems to have a plan ready to set in motion.

“We are the gods of love!” She drunkenly declares, free hand moves to tap Wylan's cheeks repeatedly. “And as the benevolent gods that we are, our first mission is them.”

Nina pushes Wylan's face towards you and Kaz, sat at the bar, deep in conversation. The rest of the Crows followed suit, realising Nina's suggestion. She stumbles over drunkenly and with little-to-no care on making it look as natural or accidental as she can, "trips" over her foot and falls forward.

You take the brunt of the force, being pushed forward that you fall onto Kaz. The latter glares at Nina, hand coming to your shoulder to steady you.

“My bad.... It seems I've lost my balance,” she slurs. “Oh! Would you look at that? The two of you would make quite a pair, don't you think so, Matthias?”

Matthias raises an eyebrow, already hauling Nina with him to get back to their table.

“Poor Helvar,” says Kaz simply, nudging you to get back on the barstool.

“He doesn't seem to mind,” you retort, noting Matthias' loving gaze as he escorts Nina.

It doesn't take long before the chaos settles, leaving you and Kaz, still engaging in conversation as the last patrons leave the Crow Club.

“We would make a good pair, huh?” You tease, reaching over to brush your hand against his, leather soft under your palm. “You think so?”

Kaz looks at you pointedly, tugging your left hand towards him, fingers pressing on the small diamond adorning your ring finger. “Would I have given you this, if I didn't?”

Smooth with his words without even trying. A trait you find both annoying and endearing after all the years you've been together.

“I mean you have a lot of diamonds lying around—”

“Schatje.”

“Yes?” All train of thought immediately halts on its tracks. The petname has a hold over you that he oh-so-often uses as leverage. You pout. “Stop distracting me.”

He smiles—soft and uncharacteristic, contradictory to the harsh rasp of his voice and the rough scars on his skin. He smiles a smile he reserves only for your eyes, and you're falling for it, a hundred times over.

two. the demjin.

You don't like when Kaz gets like this—all wrung up over a waivable matter. It reminds you a lot of what he had to be before, the things he had to do and what Dirtyhands actually stood for. Not at all akin to the Kaz Brekker you know—the one who immediately comes whenever one of your crew is threatened, the one who stays up with you as you wait for the rest of your little heist crew to return, the one who goes out of his way to collect little trinkets to bring home to you.

You are hurt, shallow cuts all over your body from a little dagger scuffle with a mercenary, but you're a member of the Dregs—this, you can take. A little Heartrender magic and some bandages, you will recover in no time.

“You're back.”

Kaz stops and you look over him to find his knuckles bloodied, hair stuck out of place and clothes disheveled.

“You're alright, schatje?”

His room at the Slat isn't big contrary to popular belief. He sinks into his chair with a huge sigh. You're watching him three steps away from the edge of his bed.

“What did you do?”

He shrugs, tugging his coat off. “Business.”

“You went after them.”

“It was one part of the business.” He pulls at his gloves, shedding them into the trash—too bloodied for him to bother cleaning. “Are you sure you're alright?”

You tuck your hands into your elbows, displeasure visible across your features. “Are you?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Kaz.”

“They deserved it,” he stubbornly says. “I had to make sure they know not to involve themselves with us. You understand. Besides, I'm alright.”

“I do understand,” you relent. It is business. The Barrell doesn't stop for poets or musicians or lovers, no, it thrives off of the back of violence, taking an eye for an eye. “I just wish that you were here when I woke up.”

His shoulders loosen and he is your Kaz again. Not the one molded by Ketterdam, birthed at its harbour. He's the man so in love that he will dry the seas for you if you say the word. Kaz takes your hands. They are warm on his skin and his heart swells.

“I am sorry, schatje.”

You kneel in front of him, leaning your elbows on his thighs to press a brief kiss on his lips. “Let's stay off business for a while.”

“Kaz?” A sound outside the door, followed by three raps. “Are you in there?”

“He is, Jesper. Give us a moment,” you reply.

You hear hushed whispers—both low voices, so you assume it's Wylan. Your suspicion is confirmed when the second voice sounds from behind the door.

“No, we—no, Jes—don't have anything urgent. We simply wanted to know if he is well. Take your time. We'll be going now.”

“Good night, Wylan,” you reply, immediately hearing fading footsteps soon after.

“Fifty kruge says they're already together,” says Jesper, out of your earshot.

Wylan rolls her eyes. “Fifty on them not dating yet.”

Jesper immediately clasps Wylan's hand with a loud “Deal!”

iii. the marketplace.

“Busybodies,” Kaz complained, walking a step behind you as you're treading through the Ketterdam food market. “They are not even hiding. In broad daylight. How have they never gotten caught before?”

“Kaz, my love.” You are trying not to laugh as you're picking and choosing fruits. “They usually do a better job on actual missions.”

They refer to your five lovely friends who have decided to tail you as you're coming down to the market. Kaz is the first to take notice—blurry figures moving erratically ten steps behind you.

“I should assign them something to do instead of... whatever it is they're currently doing.”

“They're curious.” You shrug, handing over a few slips of Kruge to the seller and leaving with your bag five apples heavier. “We've been acting suspicious lately. They'll find out soon enough.”

“I'll bet Inej finds out first.” Kaz nudges your fingers with his, taking the bag from you as he matches his step with yours. “The Wraith does a better job at spying.”

“My bet is Matthias.” An unlikely one. He's probably the least nosy out of the five.

Suddenly, you're pulled into a small nook, squuezed between buildings and he presses a kiss on your lips. One turns to two and you're smiling like a lovesick fool when he pulls away.

“We're being followed and you pull this?”

“Schatje, our pursuers are horrendously bad at this.” He shrugs, pulling away. You resume your trek through the market. “Look. They've lost us.”

iv. the marriage certificate.

“Fake IDs,” Kaz says, pointing at the towering Fjerdan. “You'll be collecting them from Anika.”

Matthias doesn't mind running errands, although he does think that he'll be better suited for physical fights other than fetching papers, but he doesn't argue. It seems he is doing more than simply fetching papers though.

“That is real?” He asks Anika, pointing at a marriage certificate she has on her desk. Marriage certificates are mundane enough not to warrant this type of reaction, but it is the name that shocks even him to the core. Kaz Brekker and you, married?

“As real as can be around here.” Anika scrambles to hide it away. “Here are your IDs. Don't tell anyone about it.”

In Matthias' defense, he doesn't end up telling just anyone. He tells Nina and Nina is the one telling everyone else. Within a week, every member of the Crows have known about it.

Wylan hands Jesper slips of fifty kruge, grumbling that this is unfair. Nina looks like spring has just arrived. Inej is probably the least reactive—but that is because she's already found out long before the others. She's the Wraith after all. Matthias is anxious. For all everyone knows, he is the one responsible for the news.

You strut into the dining room, seeing everyone gathered and raise an eyebrow.

“Why are you all here?”

“We want to ask—”

Before Nina can finish her sentence, Jesper blurts out. “You're married?”

You chuckle, shrugging. “You found out.”

“How long?”

“Kaz? Really?”

“How did that happen?”

A series of questions that you don't actually answer. You stand there, leaning on the back of one of the wooden chairs situated in the room—remorseless to your very core.

“Ask him about it.”

That ends the discussion. None of them will actually ask him about it and even if any of them actually finds the courage to, the likelihood of Kaz answering anything that's not a sarcastic remark or a threat is close to none.

“How did you find out anyway?”

Everyone points towards Matthias and to the Fjerdan's horror, Nina's pointer finger finds him, too.

You only smile, silently planning to brag to your spouse that you've won your bet.

[ ].

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #—ki writes 🍯

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13uswntimagines · 3 months

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Big Emotions II (Alessia X Leah x Child!Reader)

Request: Please tell me there will be a part 2 to big emotions where she meets El and Mazza and Alessia finds out she got sad about the boos

Big Emotions Pt. 1

Warnings: none. cute kid fic.

You had never been so unhappy at a football match before. Even tucked into Leah’s chest with Squirt safely under your arm and your Batman blanket draped around you like a hooded cloak couldn’t make it better.

Leah thought that maybe the booing would stop after halftime, and she had made the mistake of suggesting it after the two of you had returned to your seats just behind the visitor's bench. She thought the crowd would calm down, and just enjoy the game.

She was wrong.

She had finally gotten you calmed down, munching on goldfish crackers, waiting for the half to start when the chanting began to echo around the stadium as the players started to filter out of the tunnel.

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together at the fuck you Russo coming from the supporter's section, reverberating through every tier of Old Trafford.

“They sayed a bad word,” You murmured, offering a cracker to Squirt before popping it in your mouth.

Leah hummed, tucking her chin on your shoulder and pulling you closer to her chest. “They are,”

You knew about bad words. You had been in charge of the English training camp swear jar for many camps now because it was the only way to get the team to pay up. It was an adorable running gag the media staff would have absolutely posted had Alessia been alright with sharing your face with the general public.

“No like,” You said, making your fish cracker swim into your mouth. You munched down on it, and pulled your blanket more tightly around you and Squirt.

“I know,” Leah said, wrapping her puffy jacket around you and zipping it so you were nestled safely inside away from the cold. “We’ll just have to keep our cheering up to drown them all out huh?”

You nodded. “We cheer for Mama,”

Leah hummed, hugging you more tightly to her. “They’re about to come out, do you want to wave?”

“Mama see us?” You asked, your eyes already scanning the players emerging from the tunnel, searching for your mama.

“Of course she will,” Leah promised, knowing Alessia always looked for you if you didn’t go to the locker room during halftime. Still, you got anxious that she wouldn’t find you and wave, especially as of late. “Mama loves us,”

Your shoulders relaxed when you spotted Alessia’s familiar form, giggling with Ella as they made their way out of the tunnel.

“Mama love us,” You echoed, lifting your little hand and waving towards Alessia.

It only took her a second to see you, waving back enthusiastically and blowing you a kiss. You caught it, smiling widely despite the hate blaring from the fans around the stadium.

You waved at Ella too and Mary, sending them a little heart hands with Leah’s help, frowning when the booing from the crowd only got louder as they all took their places on the pitch.

Leah bounced you lightly, squeezing you to head off any ill feelings about the way the fans started various We Hate Russo chants, and to help you feel safe and secure.

Though this time, they didn’t seem to bother you as much.

You glanced back at the blonde defender. “We cheer for Mama,”

She nodded. “We’ll cheer for Mama,”

You looked back towards the field, snuggling back into her chest, and lifting Squirt so his head just peeked up out of the collar of Leah’s coat zipped around you.

You would cheer so loud that Mama knew you were rooting for her. Then the whistle blew for the second half to begin.

*****

“El!!” you cheered, wiggling excitedly in Leah’s arms as the midfielder finally approached the two of you.

You had been waiting very patiently after the game finished if you did say so yourself, not complaining as the players shook hands and did their mandatory lap and huddle before you and Leah were allowed down on the pitch.

“Hey, little bit!” She cheered, pulling you out of Leah’s arms and spinning you in circles, your blanket fluttered out behind you like a cape.

Leah couldn’t help but smile at your giggles of delight.

It was an effect Ella always had on you, even when you were grumpy.

“Hey,” Alessia said, wrapping her arms around Leah’s waist.

Leah leaned back into her taller frame. “Hey love, great game,”

“Thanks,” Alessia smiled, her dimples poking out. She took a glance back at you, determining that you were thoroughly distracted by Ella, before leaning in for a very quick kiss.

“Little miss greatly enjoyed your goals,” Leah said as Alessia pulled back.

“And what about you?” The striker asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

You loved pretty much anything she did, but Leah was harder to impress. At least she pretended to be.

“They were ok,” Leah shrugged, glancing at you again, her face turning serious. “But I need to talk to you about something,”

Alessia matched her expression, raising an eyebrow as if to say go on.

“We had a bit of a meltdown after the fans started booing,” Leah explained, her voice lowering so the players still milling around them would have a harder time eavesdropping. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be all over the media with the number of cameras on us,”

“Wonderful,” Alessia sighed.

She did her best to keep you off social media. She had heard stories of people using it to find and exploit children, and she wanted to keep you as far from that as she could. She wanted to protect you as much as she could.

“She also wanted to make sure that neither of us were leaving,” Leah continued, glancing back towards you as Ella placed you on the ground, letting you hold her hand as you gained your footing. “We might want to have a chat with her later, with lots of cuddles and reassurances,”

“Of course,” Alessia agreed, she had already been planning on it, especially with how withdrawn you had been since Leah was away.

She knew it stemmed from whatever had made you so terrified that they would leave you, but that didn’t help her when she was trying to calm you down. The only cure would be to be surrounded by both of them, she was sure.

*****

“Munchkin!” Mary cheered as El flew you in her direction, tossing you up (very gently) so the keeper could catch you in her outstretched hands.

“Mazza!” You matched her excitement giggling loudly as she tossed you in the her again and caught you, spinning you in a tight circle.

“How’s my favorite striker in training?” Mary asked, ticking your belly as she fixed the too large England jersey covering your frame.

You shrugged, a smile playing at your lips. “Ok, manu let me score. No stop my penalty,”

Mary chuckled, helping Ella tuck your Batman blanket back around your shoulders. “Well maybe you’re just too good,”

“Better than your mama,” Ella added.

Your nose scrunched and you shook your head. “No one better than Mama. Just no try stop,”

“We could test it out,” Mary suggested. “See if you’ve lost your skills,”

Her and Ella expected you to agree instantly, as you were obsessed with scoring goals on both of them. Practicing your penalties and passing was a hallmark of any time you spent with them.

But you didn’t.

You shrugged again, tucking yourself into Mary’s frame instead of wiggling excitedly like you normally would.

Ella and Mary shared a look.

“Do you want to shoot on Mazza?” Ella asked you more directly, rubbing your back.

You shook your head. “No,”

Mary frowned. “Why munchkin?”

You were quiet for a long second before you left your hiding place long enough to look at them.

“No want boo,” You said softly, glancing at the lingering fans still in the stands. “Or sayed the bad word,”

“They won’t boo you,” Ella said, brushing her thumb across your cheek. “You’re too cute to boo,”

“Boo Mama,” You explained. “Cause she lefted. But I lefted too,”

Mary and Ella shared another look, the weight of what you were telling them more acute than any three-year-old should understand. You should be oblivious to how unfair the football fans could be. Oblivious to the cruelty that the world could show.

But you weren’t.

“Sweetie, it doesn’t matter what the fans do,” Mary said gently. “But they won’t boo you, because you didn’t leave them,”

“I did!” You insisted, your volume going up and drawing the attention of a few of the players still milling about. “Make friends with the Gooners. Play with them,”

“I know,” Mary soothed, as Ella caught the eye of your mama. “But it’s different. They’re not booing your mama because she made friends with the Arsenal girls. They’re booing her because they don’t understand why she left,”

“Be with Leah and with me,” You said, your tiny eyebrows furrowing, and a little crinkle appearing between them. “No weave me,”

“She will never leave you,” Ella agreed, rubbing your back. “You’re right. She moved so she could spend more time with you and Leah, and that’s ok. The fans just don't know how to process their big emotions,”

“People act like meanie butt heads when they no say why they sad,” You said, repeating a version of what your mama and Leah told you anytime you were trying to process your own emotions.

When you didn’t tell your Mama or Leah that you felt yucky inside, they couldn’t help you, or make you feel better. They couldn’t help you put names to your feelings.

“That’s right bug,” Alessia hummed, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. She was magic after all and had special powers like all mamas did (Leah was still learning how to use hers). “They just don’t know how to use their words to explain it,”

“Mama,” You sighed, instantly reaching your arms out to her, and snuggling into her neck when she took you from Mary. “I cheer to make them not boo,”

“I know love bug. You did so well,” She said, keeping her voice soft and beginning to rock you gently. “You were so loud that I couldn’t even hear them,”

You settled deeper into her, one of your hands twisting the collar of her Kit top, and the other squeezing squirt more securely under your arm as you buried your nose in her neck.

“Scored goal past Mazza,” You murmured, your voice barely audible from your hiding space.

“I did,” She hummed, scratching your back as she adjusted your Batman blanket. “Do you wanna score on Mazza too?”

You were quiet for a long second before Alessia felt you yawn against her skin. “No,”

“Ok love,” She said, as Ella and Mary both awed at how cute you were, and Leah approached.

She wasn’t surprised that you were tired, considering that you had been up for most of the night, and the night before that. It was always bound to catch up with you.

“Cuddle with Mama and Leah,” You murmured, blinking out from Alessia’s neck to Leah. “No weave again,”

“No, no one is leaving,” Leah said, smoothing down your wild curls, and Alessia rocked you a bit more insistently. “We’re both here, and we’re not going anywhere,”

You made a small noise in neither agreement nor disagreement, snuggling impossibly closer to your mama.

“And we’re not leaving either,” Mary said, wrapping an arm around Alessia’s shoulder as Ella wrapped her arms around your mama’s middle from the other side. “You’re stuck with us for life kid,”

Leah ran her fingers through your hair, and your eyes drooped.

You felt safe and warm and loved, surrounded by your Mama, and your Leah and Mazza and El.

They would cheer for you even if the rest of the world booed.

#woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo x leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #leah williamson x reader

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m0llygunn · 2 months

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friends with b(aby)enefits (eddie munson x fem!reader)

MONTH ONE: Just friends—what a silly concept. After your accident, Eddie's been a full-fledged comedian, ill-conceived jokes left and right... neither of you are laughing though when his 'comedy routine' comes back to bite the both of you in the ass.

cw: 18+!, mature language, smut, pinv sex (unprotected again smh), pet names, vomiting, a lot of pregnancy related topics, potentially dramatized pregnancy symptoms (for the plot obvi, also idk anything about pregnancy), mention of readers period, mention of birth control an: lots of minor time jumps/cuts but we get some eddie pov!!! wc: 8.3k+

0 / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 00

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, both palms pressed flat to your belly.

“How are my girls doing today?”

Comically loud, heavily puckered kisses scattered over the top of your stomach, catching you by surprise— not at all expecting to be ambushed with facetious affection by your friend.

Eddie thinks he’s a comedian.

With about a month of his poor taste in jokes, he thinks he’s hilarious— and a self-proclaimed prophet because he 'just knows' that it's a baby girl. He's full of shit and you desperately try to not give him the benefit of finding his terrible jokes humorous. To your demise, from time to time, they get you.

His latest stunt was when he greeted you for your usual Friday get together. He swung the door open quick enough to stun you and immediately dropped to his knees. With a firm hold on your hips, he leaned in close to your belly, “Hi, baby girl. Did you miss daddy?” he cooed with big eyes and an even bigger smirk.

With a hand on his forehead, pushing him away, unfortunately you laughed, and unfortunately it feels like all of his jokes are coming back to bite the both of you in the ass. It’s hardly been 24 hours since the offending, but objectively funny joke, and neither of you are laughing now.

“Maybe you just ate something bad?” he offers with sheer, dumb, hope. “Or maybe it’s the flu?” he says, snapping his fingers together like he struck the gold mine of an idea.

Eddie can be as hopeful as he wants, but as you lower yourself down to the couch from vomiting your insides out in the bathroom, the panic in his eyes is evident.

“Maybe,” you reply dully, dropping your head to rest against the back of the couch.

“Do you want to lay down? I can bring you to my bed?” he asks with concern lacing his words.

“I’m—” you start, but with acid suddenly rising in your throat again, your eyes go wide and you jump from the couch with a renewed energy, just barely making it to the bathroom.

────────────

To put it plainly, you vomited two more times after. When you finally felt like you were done throwing up, with an empty stomach and a sore body, Eddie helped you to his bed and you slept off your spell of nausea. When you woke up a few hours later feeling a touch better, both of you decided the best choice would be to buy a pregnancy test.

“Just to be safe, right?” he had said, eyes burning into you as you laid sprawled across his bed, feeling no longer nauseous, but instead like an empty shell of a person. “We should buy one, right?” he asked again, eyes growing wider in your silence.

It felt like even moving your sight line to look at him took too much energy, but you met his gaze, and he nodded his head like he had made his own silent conclusion.

“We’ll go after, okay?” he said, continuing his one-sided conversation. Standing from the edge of the bed he wiped his palms down the front of his thighs before straightening out and rubbing his hand down from his mouth to his chin. He nods a second time, doing what you assume is him coming to another silent conclusion. “I’ll get you crackers?” he continued, eyebrows raised.

With your eyes locked on him, you swallowed the dryness in your mouth. You hadn’t done anything notable, hadn’t even attempted to answer him, but his face softened, mouth turning into a regretful frown.

“Sorry you’re sick,” he said, bending down to pat your head, letting his thumb trace gently across your temple. It was a tender movement and you absorbed the warmth of his contact, letting your eyes blink shut. “I’ll get you water too, okay? Water and crackers and we’ll see how you feel after that.”

Eddie’s a lot of things, but nurturing and soft, and with high levels of compassion is not exactly how you would describe him. He can be those things, but principally, he’s more of an asshole— but one that you love enough to keep around, obviously. But an asshole, nonetheless. The last time you had the flu he laughed at you and made fun of the way you threw up, albeit, it was when you both were in your teens, but regardless, he was a dickhead about it— and most recently, when you had gotten a cold, he ceaseless made fun of your constant sneezing and the blazing red tone of your sore nose from blowing it so much, calling you Rudolf and asking how ‘Big Red’ was doing at this time of the year. Asshole.

Dichotomously to the Eddie you’ve known all these years, he grazes the backside of his knuckles across your cheek, rubbing them back and forth gently. It's painfully obvious he doesn’t do this often from the way his hand jerks, finger nearly poking you in the eye, but you appreciate the notion. You know you must really look awful if he’s managed to compose this much compassion for you.

────────────

They say that nothing makes people more productive than the last minute. As the pharmacy's closing time approached, it was only then when either of you felt so inclined to even mention going to get the test.

After Eddie got you your water and crackers, you started feeling much better, and feeling much better meant it was easy to pretend like nothing had happened. You both unhealthily and aggressively ignored your potential futures by acting like it was any regular Saturday evening. You talked about your upcoming work week, and watched the usually shitty reruns on TV. Eddie made some freezer-burnt chicken nuggets, you warmed up some soup, and it was boring and uneventful, but it was the most comforting that boring and uneventful could be.

The sun began to set and it was like the ticking of Wayne's alarm clock on the coffee table beside you only got louder and louder as time went on.

“S’almost eight,” Eddie had eventually mumbled. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the TV as you found this particular old rerun episode of Mama’s Family to be the most interesting thing in the world, which is odd considering you usually change the channel whenever it's on.

With both of you sitting at the couch, feet kicked up, resting side by side on the coffee table, Eddie moves his foot far enough to just barely knock yours— an attempt to pull your attention away from the screen.

“The show’s almost done,” you say, turning your head towards him but keeping your eyes on the TV.

“The pharmacy closes at eight.”

“I feel fine,” you shrug.

Moving your feet from the tabletop, Eddie copies you, putting his feet down on the floor, but he goes a step further, sitting up from the couch. He stands, facing you, but you keep your eyes on the TV, ignoring him fivefold. He props his hand on his hip, arm bent at the elbow, one foot tap away from looking like someone's mother. You ignore him tenfold.

“You want to stay here while I go?”

“Go where?”

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” he laughs. You can hear the amusement in his voice. His hand drops from his hip and you look at him to see the smirk written across his face.

“Go where?” you double down. Huffing a laugh from his nose, he turns, opting to get himself ready, and begrudgingly, you do too. With your feet dragging through every step, you get in the car, and Eddie drives the two of you to the pharmacy.

────────────

Under the bright, white fluorescent lights of aisle number eight, you and Eddie stare your potential future down. An unnerving amount of tests sit on the shelf at eye level, some with cute little daisy packaging, others looking sterile and pharmaceutical.

“Why are there so many options?” Eddie asks, picking one up and flipping it to read the back. You look at the price tags and your mouth nearly drops to the floor.

“Why are they so expensive?” you ask, taking the box out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey,” he objects, reaching out for it. “That one says response in twenty minutes.”

“That one is, like, twice as much as that one,” you argue, pointing to another test.

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing the test from the shelf. “That one says a two hour response,” he continues, pointing at the exaggerated font on the front of the test in his hand, waving it in your face. “I’d rather be shitting my pants for twenty minutes than two hours.”

He’s acting normal, braggart and teasing, you can’t muster that same energy. Your stomach swirls and squeezes and does everything it shouldn’t do. Nerves or nausea, you’re not sure. A ceiling light flickers two aisles over and you can’t stand being here.

“Maybe…” you pause. Your hands start to turn clammy. “Maybe we shouldn’t get any,” you say, shifting in place. You turn to fully face Eddie, looking at him as he has a boxed test pulled close to his face, reading the side of it. “Maybe we should just go home.”

Eddie turns to you, brows furrowed. “No— what? You just spent the whole day throwing up, we gotta get something,” he says, looking at you like you’re insane. The ceiling light flickers again and you definitely feel insane.

It wasn’t the whole day, it was just the morning, you nearly object until you realize it doesn’t help your case.

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you chew on the edge of your nail, distracting yourself from the tremble in your limbs. From left to right and back again, you flutter your sight over the different options. There’s too many. Too many and it’s overwhelming.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. The weight of his arm settles around your shoulder, pulling you so that your bicep meets the edge of his chest in a half hug. “Don’t be nervous,” he continues, in a low coo. You step inwards, turning the half hug into a full hug. Taking a deep breath, all you can muster is a short nod of your head.

His arm moves from your shoulder, hand grazing down to your mid back. Focusing your attention on his touch, you take another deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. Smoky, woodsy, and a contradicting sweetness from whatever shampoo that was probably the cheapest and on sale.

“We’ll be fine, remember? You probably just ate something bad.” he says. He rubs his hand up between your shoulder blades and back down. You want to believe him, you really do.

“I’m scared,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, voice just as small as yours.

“It… it doesn’t feel like I ate something bad.” You swallow down the jagged edges of emotion that your voice gets stuck on. His hand, mid rub, pauses and you pull away enough to see him. His eyes glaze over with something you’re unsure of before he quickly blinks it back.

“Well…” he swallows. “What does it feel like then?” he asks, brows turned upwards. He's nervous, you’re nervous, and the light flickers again, reminding you where you are.

“Can we go home? Please.” Your nerves become far too jittery and it’s starting to turn into nausea again. Your stomach lurches and Eddie watches you for another moment, eyes searching yours until he nods, patting your back before pulling away.

“Yeah. I’ll just buy this one and we can go.” He takes your hand in his, twenty-minute-test in the other, and he guides you to the front of the store.

────────────

“It’s almost nine now, so it’ll be ready at…”

“9:20,” you say when Eddie takes a concerning amount of time doing the math. The ride home was quiet. Being out of the fluorescence helped your nerves, and as you got further and further away from the pharmacy, and closer and closer to Eddie’s place, you started to feel normal again.

“I knew that, I was just… thinking,” he responds. He sits up from where he was crouching in front of the dresser, using it as a table to put together the test.

Decidedly, it was just nerves that had put you on edge, that’s it. The test is nothing but precautionary, just to rule out what could have made you sick. Eddie joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Uh— before, we get a response,” he pauses, wringing his hands together. His eyes move down to his lap and your chest tightens. “I just want to say that whatever it is… I don’t regret what we did… and whatever it is, I’ll be there… for my girls.”

He looks at you, his smirk widening by the second, and you can’t help the snort of laughter from escaping. Like every other ill-timed joke that he's pervasively told over the last month or so, he gets you, and you appreciate it this time as it lessens the gnawing feeling in your belly.

Despite the joke, when you really look at him, with his lips spread in a smile, his eyes swarm with the same trepidations that you feel. He’s a comedian but even the comedian is human. You try your hand at lightening the mood.

“What if it’s not a girl?” you ask, playing along. He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours as he huffs a breath from his nose. Shaking his head in an almost mirthful way you think you were successful until his demeanour drops into something serious.

“What did you mean earlier?” he asks “When you said that it doesn’t feel like you ate something bad?”

“I just— I don't know. I just, I thought I had a feeling,” you explain. Eddie hums, eyes now set forward on the test. “I think I was just nervous, that’s all.”

Twenty minutes has never felt longer. Eddie accepts your answer at face value but doesn’t do much to show it. He doesn't do much in general, and neither do you. At the ten minute mark, his hand found your knee. At the fifteen minute mark you were curled under his arm, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed up and down your arm. In the last minute, you had taken his hand in yours, playing with his fingers as you watched the seconds tick by on his Casio watch.

21:19:59 turned to 21:20:00, and you turned to Eddie. Synchronously and in silence, you parted from each other. He stood and you sat. He moved to the dresser, and you held your breath.

With his back facing you, you watch with unblinking eyes as he reaches for the instructions. Humming to himself, your lungs ache. You try to parse the meaning behind his tone, or vibration, or pitch — or anything that could give way to what he's seeing, but it’s far too vague. Taking a deep and vital breath, filling your choking lungs, you're just about to ask, mouth already open when he speaks.

“It says negative.”

“It says negative?” you parrot in disbelief.

“Negative.” Eddie firmly answers.

There’s no way. You should feel a weight lift from you, but, evident avoidance aside, that feeling is still there, stronger if anything.

“I…” you start, interrupting the loud beat of silence. “I’m not saying I want to be pregnant… but I think it’s wrong, Eddie.”

“Wrong? How could it be wrong?” he says, turning around to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Aren’t they, like, only guaranteed to work like 95% of the time?”

“That’s still a lot of the time,” he says, copying your shrug.

“Yeah… but—” you shake your head, stopping yourself. This is what you wanted right? Why would you fight against the answer that you mostly hoped for? That you were already certain about in the car barely an hour ago. “Whatever. It’s probably right. I think… I think I’m just… tired.”

Eddie nods, agreeing with you. He turns enough to set the test down, abandoning cleanup for another time— gross, but when he asks you if you’re going to sleep over, you willingly ignore the unsanitary act of leaving a used pregnancy test to sit and simmer bacteria growth.

“You gonna sleep here?”

“Can I?’

“Of course,” he laughs.

────────────

If it were a peaceful morning, you would have woken up to the warm, red tinted sun coming into Eddie’s room through the maroon coloured bed-sheet-turned-blinds.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have woken up to shared warmth, his arm just barely tossed over your hip, hand resting in the dip of your waist.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have been able to bask in the meaning of having him beside you— what it meant beyond just shared warmth, what it meant beyond friendship.

If it were a peaceful morning, oh, if it were a peaceful morning…

If it were a peaceful morning, you wouldn’t have woken up to rising bile in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. It's not a peaceful morning, it's a race against time. With your hand cupped to your mouth, ripping yourself from the shared tangled sheets, tripping your way to the bathroom over the crap on the floor, time almost wins.

You made it by a stroke of luck with not a second to spare.

────────────

“It must be the flu,” you had croaked weakly. Eddie nodded, looking at you with tired eyes that had been startled awake by your fumbling and awful retching.

“Yeah, it’s definitely the flu.” It was not a whole hearted agreement, but there was no way any bad food would still be in your system. And with a negative pregnancy test, the flu is the only answer. Obviously.

The next day, in the quietness of your apartment, you kept a preemptive bowl next to your bed, just in case.

Thank god you did because it was the worst it’s been yet, and with your temperamental luck, you would not have made it to the bathroom this time.

────────────

“Hello?” Eddie answered from the other end of the telephone line.

Your untouched breakfast sits on the table as you stand in front of your wall-hanging phone, leaning against the counter to stop yourself from keeling over entirely.

“It's me.”

“Oh, hey, didn’t think I’d hear from you so early, what's up?” His near chipper attitude is grating and if you could strangle someone through the phone you might have muscled up the last of your strength and considered it.

“I’m still sick.” If you sound as awful as you feel, and equally as annoyed, it's because you are every terrible emotion in the dictionary. You are the essence of a bad mood, a side effect of how sick you’ve been.

“Shit—” he cursed. “I have work in thirty but I can stop by after?”

“Yeah, you already told me you were working,” you snark, because obviously he has work. It’s Monday.

“Do you want me to stop by after?

“I'm just telling you that I’m still sick.”

The call lulls and you can hear a slight rustle from the other end.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re sick and I feel bad,” he says, voice turning up like he's asking you if that is an alright answer. It’s not, and you twirl the phone cord between your fingers, distracting yourself from scoffing and saying something you know you’ll regret.

The call lulls for another moment and he clears his throat, coughing right into the receiver.

“Uh— aside from being sick… everything else okay?” he asks tentatively, pausing too frequently that it annoys you, even more so than you already are.

“I’m fine, I just feel like garbage.”

“Nothing else bothering you? I have a minute, we can talk?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re— and don’t bite my head off— but you’re not on your period?”

“Why would you ask that?” You meet his stupidity with a harsh and rightfully deserved defensiveness. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I was? You know, all things considered.”

His voice raises as he comes to his own defence. “Well, I just thought… 'cause you thought that maybe there was a chance that the test was wrong, but then we agreed it wasn’t and…”

“And?”

“And you’re in a bad mood.”

You hang up the phone and when it rings again, you let it.

────────────

Eddie spent the whole day being eaten alive by his thoughts. You said you had a feeling, and Eddie knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t joke around about stuff like this. He would, he has, but you wouldn't.

Since the moment you told him that you weren’t on birth control, he had been thinking about it. Hypothetically, having a kid with you wouldn’t be the worst. He’d actually… like it… maybe? Would he say that to you? No, but it's not an awful thought.

Sure he made jokes out of it, but that was just his ill mannered way of accepting the fact that he kind of, maybe, potentially, would like having a kid with you… and being more than just friends. But he could never tell you that, so he made stupid, stupid jokes.

But now that having a baby with you is less hypothetical, he’s fucking scared. Not because it’s with you, but because he might be having a fucking baby. That’s terrifying in and of itself.

When you first started feeling sick, he let himself really believe for about an hour that maybe you had eaten something bad, but in his heart of hearts, he knew. There was no way. Four weeks and 3 days after he came inside you— not that he's keeping track of the days— and you’re suddenly experiencing ‘food poisoning’, even though you didn’t eat anything particularly abnormal or poison-like?

You’re pregnant. So fucking pregnant. There’s no way you’re not.

“Hey, Bill. You have kids, right?” Eddie had asked as he sat down at the break table with one of his more favourable colleagues.

Bill, more or less his mentor— or more eloquently put, the kind soul that's been helping him work his way up to being an actual mechanic and not just the guy who cleans and sweeps up after them like he’s been doing for the last year and a bit. He’s an older gentleman, doesn’t do much small talk, is in a permanent old man bad attitude, but he’s a good guy— reminds him of Wayne at times. Eddie trusts him enough, especially not to go talking about him around town.

“Uh-huh. Grandkids too,” he answers, barely looking up from his newspaper. Eddie knew this of course, but he couldn't think of any other way to approach the topic.

“Right, sorry,” Eddie apologizes, wringing his hands out of nervousness and dragging out the point of interrupting Bill’s lunch break.

“You gonna be a father?” Bill asks bluntly.

Father? Eddie's familiar with a particular ‘F’ word, uses it way too fucking much in fact. Father, on the other hand, is an ‘f’ word that was barely in his vocabulary, he could go weeks without letting that word pass through his thoughts, let alone it being a descriptor of his very own character.

Eddie’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open as his breath stutters like a kid getting caught red handed. “No.” he stumbles to answer. “Uh— maybe. I don’t know. We don’t know.”

“So what are you askin’?”

“Your girlfriend— uh, wife—”

“Wife,” Bill answers with an annoyed ring to it.

“Right, your wife… What was she like when she got pregnant?”

Bill shakes his head, ignoring the question. “Did she take a test? They have those now. Can buy ‘em at the store,” he gruffs.

“We did, but it was negative. She… she said they’re wrong sometimes though, and she thought that… she thought that maybe it was wrong?”

Bill sets down his newspaper, the edges of both his fists meeting the surface of the table top. He looks to Eddie, catching his flighty eye contact, giving him his full attention.

“Morning sickness?”

“She’s been sick the last couple of days.”

“Hormonal?”

“Hormonal?” Eddie asks, quirking a brow. Bill rolls his eyes, not unlike how Wayne has done time after time.

“Bad mood? Mood swings?”

“Kind of?”

“I won’t go into detail because I respect my wife,” Bill says, eyeing Eddie through slanted eyes. “Any changes that aren’t to do with her mood?” he asks, looking down the slope of his nose.

“Huh?” Eddie thinks hard, trying to decipher what Bill means. Bill gives Eddie an encouraging nod that quickly turns short-tempered.

“Her body? Any changes?” Bill grumps.

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh— I don't know. She’s not really my girlfriend, we’re just friends.”

“Just a friend you got pregnant?” Bill’s near-permanent-scowl breaks into a smile, lips turning at the corners in a sadistic way, eyes gleaming with taunting amusement. Eddie feels his palms start to sweat.

“So you think she’s pregnant?”

“I think you’re up shits creek with a turd for a paddle, kid. Gettin’ a friend pregnant,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he laughs to himself. He fixes his newspaper back upright, picking up where he left off in the classifieds.

“Well, we’re good friends. I— she… we—” Eddie thinks about telling him that it’s you— Bill knows of you. Eddie’s talked about you enough, but he bites his tongue for the same reason that he didn’t go to Wayne about this— it would be all, ‘just ask her out’, ‘quit pussyfootin’ ‘round it,’ but he doesn’t get it, he can’t just ask you out. He—

“You like her more than a friend.” Bill says, making Eddie freeze. He opens his mouth to speak, to deny, to confirm, to anything, but nothing comes out. “Oh you got it bad, huh?” Bill continues with a teasing smile.

“C’mon, it’s not—” Eddie tries to object but Bill sees right through it.

“You love her?”

“I…” Eddie swallows, thinking over his answer. “I don’t know…maybe?”

“Well, you got an interesting journey ahead of yous if she really is pregnant,” he laughs again.

And with that entirely unhelpful conversation, Eddie spent the rest of the day not only ruminating on you being pregnant, but now, his feelings for you as well.

────────────

After work he went straight home, showered, got redressed in sweats and the cleanest shirt he could find and beelined straight for your apartment. He made one quick stop at the pharmacy but quicker than even he anticipated, he was at your front door.

He knocked, and then there you were, opening the door for him, not exactly smiling— but not looking angry either, or sick, which is a good start.

Greeting him with a quiet ‘hello’, you opened the door wider. He stepped into your apartment, and like he mentally rehearsed, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. Before he could look at your reaction, he turned, hiding his face behind the curtain of his still damp hair, and kicked his shoes off.

He’s just trying to get back on your good side. After this morning— your bad mood, and then him only making it worse by asking if you were on your period, which he knew you weren’t because you said that it's been weird since you stopped birth control but… yeah, he’s just trying to get on your good side, definitely not anything more than that.

Clearing his throat and praying his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel, he tries to move on. “How’re you doing?” he asks. You spare him, and you don’t mention the kiss nor give him any weird reactions— which is good, right? You would tell him off if you didn’t want him to kiss you, right?

“I’m doing fine now,” you reply, turning to lead him to the kitchen. He follows behind, humming an acknowledgement. At your counter is a full, waiting dish that looks like and smells like spaghetti. You sit back in your seat, and he takes the one next to it, putting his brown shopping bag down in front of him.

He watches you as you bring a forkful of your dinner to your mouth. “You’re eating, you must not be feeling sick anymore?”

“No, I stopped feeling sick around lunch and then I was starving,” you say through a second mouthful, swirling your third bite around the fork.

“Nice,” he nods. Eddie’s not sure of much, not now, hardly ever, but you feeling better around lunch means you only felt sick in the morning, and you being sick in the mornings falls exactly under the conditions of morning sickness… and that means…

Swallowing down his thoughts in a thick gulp, he reaches for the pharmacy bag. “Well, I bought another test just in case,” he rushes out quickly, moving to take out the good part of his shopping haul to lessen the blow if the test somehow pisses you off. “—and I also bought you—”

“Liquorice! Oh my god and popcorn,” you say excitedly, interrupting him with the loud crinkles of you grabbing for the package of candy, quickly ripping it open.

Eddie watches you closely, the way your eyes light up for some of your favourite foods. He was taking a risk, buying you snacks when he knew that you’ve been sick but it was that or flowers and flowers seemed a little too… forward?

Your reaction to the snacks though, it’s not abnormal, but it’s not exactly normal either… a bit too… ravenous? To be fair, you were sick and now you’re feeling better, maybe you are just extra hungry…. But then again, there's also your bad mood earlier and sure you felt like shit from being sick, but you were usually pretty happy whenever you talked to him. He wasn’t used to all of these… mood swings.

Symptom after symptom, his thoughts finally bubble out. “I think you should take the test again,” he says, interrupting you as you rip open the bag of popcorn. You pause and he holds his breath.

With a shrug, you resume your movements, reaching into the bag and grabbing a handful. “But I feel fine?” you say, waving Eddie off.

“I think… maybe just in case?”

“Here, sit down, I’ll get you some spaghetti,” you ignore him, standing from your seat. “It’s so good, I swear. This is my second plate full.” You grab a dish from the cupboard, serving some up from a pot on the stove top without waiting for a reply from Eddie— not that he had one, he was too stunned by your unconcerned mood to think of one.

Adding a slice of garlic bread to the side of the dish, you place it down in front of him, quickly moving back to your own seat to dig into the popcorn and finish your own meal.

“You didn’t go to work today?” he asks after mumbling a polite thank you.

“No, I called in. When I got the promo, I got like six extra sick days, plus vacation time, so I figured I might as well use them,” you shrug indifferently.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, taking a quick glance at you before looking back to his plate of food, moving his fork around the plate absentmindedly. “Do you happen to have… better insurance with your job now?” he asks, attempting to match your aloofness.

You pause your fork before shoving it in your mouth, opting to turn to look at Eddie. He purposely avoids your eye contact, continuing to swirl his fork in his food.

“Why?”

“Just curious,” he shrugs. “Whenever I get my promo—” he pauses. “—if I get the promo, Coop gives out some shitty insurance plan. Was just wondering what you were getting these days,” he continues nervously.

“I have insurance.”

“Good.”

“Why’s it good?” you ask, squinting your eyes at him.

“Is it not good? You get sick, you don’t have to pay as much— I think that’s objectively good.”

“Fine,” you relent. You stare at him for another moment, but when you finally go back to your food, Eddie lets out a long breath that he was holding in before going back to his food.

He finishes his plate while lost in a daze of thoughts. There’s no way you weren’t pregnant. Absolutely no way. He doesn’t know much about pregnancy, that’s for sure, but this is checking off every single box in his very limited knowledge of symptoms.

He only withdrew from his head when he felt you staring at him yet again. You had pushed your plate back on the counter, head resting in the palms of your hands as you watched him intently with a particular glint of something in your eyes, something that he’s only seen two other times.

“Hi?” he says shyly, cheeks tingeing pink.

“You kissed me on the cheek when you came in,” you state.

“Yeah, I did,” he nods, cheeks deepening to crimson under your close watch.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you ask, stretching your leg out under the counter, running your foot along his shin.

Eddie chokes on his food before looking at you with wide eyes. Elbow bent to cover his mouth as he clears his throat from his sputtering, his eyebrows raise high, hiding under his bangs as he works through your suggestion.

“Like stay the night or just stay the night?” he asks, eyes burning into you out of shock.

“I just kept thinking about before… and, you know…” you say, shrugging, hooking your foot around his calf.

“So like, stay the night?” he asks, eyes glimpsing down at your outstretched leg.

With a sly smile, you nod your head making Eddie’s eyes grow even wider.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m really sure.”

Eddie takes a final bite of his food before pushing back in his chair. You excitedly stand, taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to your room.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to do when you’re both still up in arms about being pregnant, but Eddie would be a fool to say no to you. He physically couldn’t, has never had it in him. It doesn’t help that he really likes you and might potentially love you. And after all, he’s just a simple man.

────────────

“Harder.”

Your desirous voice echoing off of wallpapered bedroom walls, airy moans embellishing every thrust, Eddie does his best to give you what you want. Round two and countless of your orgasms later, you’re still begging Eddie to keep going.

Round one was fantastic. Sincerely earth shattering and left him winded and full heartedly wishing he took up track in his freshman year instead of smoking cigarettes.

The night started with you riding him, insisting that he laid back, and who was he to say no to that? He watched you intently, grasping at your hips with each rise and fall, feeling the way your body nearly trembled over his own as you made yourself feel better and better. He was completely enamoured by the way your mouth rounded into a perfect oval, the way your eyes welled as you rose up and down, enjoying yourself truly and utterly. Then, when he took over, you were begging, whimpering, and moaning for him. He swore he had never came that hard in his life.

With the long day of worrying and his stress induced sleepless nights wearing on him, he was nearly nodding off when you were on him for round two. It was exciting— you needing him like this, and his cock was kicking up again before he could process it.

You came again, adding another tally to the growing tab of how many times you’ve come tonight. This time, you were on your hands and knees, back in a deep arch as he watched the recoil of your ass with each of his thrusts.

The only thing on his mind was you. How you felt so perfect around his cock, how pretty you sounded whining and begging for him to keep going, how beautiful you are, and how badly he just wanted to keep making you feel good, but then it was like a switch flipped in his head.

He heard it once, how pregnant women would sometimes get really horny. Insatiably horny— and you just kept asking for more, begging for him to keep going. You were cumming and still managing to ask him to keep going. He had never had sex like this before.

His skin that had grown damp throughout the night, covered in a permanent sheen of sweat, now drew dry, just like his mouth. His thighs burned, his calves begged for a break, his balls were aching from staving off his own release, and now there was very little uncertainty in his mind that you weren’t pregnant.

Mid thrust, you clench around him, stealing his already stolen breath, pulling from his meandering thoughts. He refocuses his gaze on the bounce and jiggle of your ass and the sweet noises singing from your lips before letting his palms slide down the slope of your arched back, giving himself better leverage to keep going.

There's no doubt in his mind that he can finish this round. Not only would he feel like an asshole if he tapped out now, but he would also feel like the biggest idiot because this has been it for him. This is the orbiting thought in his mind, the exact scenario that he conjures up in his imagination during his alone time.

Swallowing thickly and taking an open mouth breath, he moves a hand from your back to wrap around your torso, finding your clit with his finger tips. “One more. Gonna give you one more, pretty girl,” he rasps, voice horse and ragged from his near panting. Your back arches even deeper, hips pressing back into his as you let out a wavered moan.

“Feels so good, Eddie. Love your cock, feels so good,” you cry, taking heavy, moaning breaths between words, your voice staggering with each of his thrusts that push you further up into the mattress.

“Mhm, know you love it, baby. Sucking me right in, n' so wet for me," Eddie says through exasperated breaths, words coming out babbled from his focus on not cumming as your walls squeeze him harder and harder.

“Want you to cum inside me again,” you whimper out. Eddie doesn’t answer, he just thrusts harder, rolling his hips against your backside, making you moan louder and giving you the last of every ounce of energy he has left in him.

When he feels your pussy start to flutter, tensing, and pulsating around him again, he knows you're close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” he breathes, voice only getting lower and more ragged from the absolute marathon of a night.

“Gonna cum, Eddie.” Your voice rises so high in volume that Eddie's certain your neighbours can hear.

“Cum for me baby, wanna feel you squeeze my cock one last time tonight,” he grunts, starting to feel delusional with the way his head spins. He grips his free hand on your hip, pressing his fingers into your skin and grounding himself to you, trying to push away some of the daze to think clearly.

Eddie feels your tightness pulling him in almost immediately. He holds off his own release for as long as he can, bringing you through your orgasm until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls out just in time for his own release, sending his cum spurting over your lower back as his chest practically explodes, burning lungs having all the air expelled from them in a wheeze as he stutters through his orgasm.

After taking a few, long moments to catch his breath, he reaches for the same towel he used earlier, wiping you clean before falling to your side feeling absolutely exhausted.

“Wanted you to cum inside,” you say pitifully, cuddling closer to him.

“Can’t, you're not on birth control, we didn’t have a condom.”

“You did it before,” you pout.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, exhaling deeply.

Yeah and now he's 99.9% sure you’re pregnant.

“It’s late, got work tomorrow,” Eddie says, eyes unwillingly fluttering closed as you push your way closer to him, pressing your bare chest to his, speckling gentle kisses along his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pressing another kiss to his skin. He barely has the energy to respond and you deflate against him with a sigh.

“Baby,” he coos, frowning when he looks at your lower lip jetting out in a pout. As much as he’d love to keep going, he physically could not go for another round. His cock might let him despite it feeling nearly raw from all the friction, but his aching body definitely would not. “Let me just hold you, okay? We can cuddle,” he offers to try to fix your frown. It only works the slightest bit, relaxing the crinkle in between your brows.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his hold. You let out a quiet whine at first, clearly upset, but you eventually relax into him, melding to his side. It’s not long before Eddie’s out cold, completely wiped clean of energy.

────────────

You woke up, ripping yourself from Eddie’s grasp, hand over your mouth, rushing for the bathroom again. Eddie follows behind you, barely alert, but at your side, rubbing your back.

When you were certain everything inside your stomach was gone, you sat back, leaning against the edge of the tub.

“Think I should take that test.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

────────────

With the anticipation of waiting another painstaking twenty minutes, you sit on the ledge of the tub in your bathroom, watching Eddie’s back as he tinkers with the test again. The tailbone pain from sitting on the ceramic edge is nothing compared to the swirling nausea growing from your nervousness.

He had sat with you for a few minutes like the last time, but got up halfway through to get you water. He dallyed in the kitchen for a few minutes, and it was far too casual for you, especially too casual for the dramatic dungeon master himself. It was almost unnerving.

At the fifteen minute mark, he sat with you again, throwing an arm around your shoulder, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into him. If his casualness was him disguised his nervousness, he doesn’t let on.

This time, at the twenty minute mark, his watch beeped the grating default Casio alarm, and with the chime of a button being pressed, he stands, turning his back to you as faces the vanity. You don’t follow him, you couldn’t at this point, you feel welded to the tub ledge.

Unlike last time, he doesn’t look at the instructions. He doesn’t hum. He doesn’t make any noise, he just turns to you, his body blocking the test. You feel your heart rate pick up, but he doesn’t give anything away with facial expressions or body language.

His mouth opens, he takes a breath, you hold yours once again.

“Well…” he starts. “You were right.” His tone is flat and you blink, trying to clear your confusion.

“I was right?”

“Yeah.” he shrugs. “About the last test being wrong.”

“No.”

“Yup,” he affirms, putting a plosive pop at the end of the word. Too casual.

With your heart pounding in your chest, thumping miles in minutes, you couldn’t process this even if you wanted to, so you don’t. You deny it.

“You’re lying,” you state, ending your words with a light huff of laughter. Surely, this is all a joke. Eddie’s a comedian, right? Ill-conceived jokes left and right over the last month, this has to be one of them.

He doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t light up. He doesn’t laugh. “Come look,” he says, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head.

You sit up from the ledge of the tub, moving to stand next to Eddie at the counter. He pulls out the instructions, pointing to a diagram.

“If the liquid turns blue, that means pregnant."

You look at the test, not bothering to look where Eddie points. Blue liquid sits where any other colour should be.

“It’s blue,” you state.

“Pregnant.”

Pregnant.

The moment is eerily still. In the movies this is where the happy couples jump with excitement. In TV shows, they call family and let them know their good news. In commercials, they celebrate. They hug, they smile, they cry happy tears together.

Eddie’s your best friend, but you’re not a couple, this wasn’t planned. So you both stand in silence, staring at the positive test.

“What do we do?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“We could go get something to eat? I can call out and we can rent a movie or something?”

“Something to eat?” you laugh. It’s positive and he’s thinking about eating?

“Yeah, you should try to eat something,” he shrugs, turning to look at you.

“Eddie. I’m—” Pregnant, you go to say but the word dies on your tongue. “Why are you not freaking out?” you say, staring at him with wide eyes trying to understand how he’s not affected at all by this. You’ve known Eddie a long time and he’s not exactly the calm and collected type.

“Well…” he shrugs. “When you said that you thought the first one was wrong, I trusted you more than the test. Believe me, I’ve been freaking out, but now… it’s, kind of, settled in already, I guess.”

“Settled in?” you say, jaw dropping in shock. It’s your body, you were mostly certain you were pregnant— in denial at times, yes, but you knew, yet having it confirmed is still shell-shocking. How has it already ‘settled in’ for him?

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “If you want to keep it, I’m happy. If not, I’ll support you.”

“Happy?” you say, bewildered.

“Well… yeah. We’ve... we've been friends forever. A kid that’s part you and part me? That’s fucking awesome, how could I not be happy, y’know?” he says, moving backwards to sit on the ledge of the tub. He leans forward with his hands on his knees, watching you with eyes that are too calm. Too, too, too calm about this.

In your quiet mental chaos, you take a final look at the blue liquid before moving to sit next to him. Your skin prickles with cold shivers but you feel hot all over, like there's a flame of nerves in your belly and a hot air balloon in your chest making each breath feel laboured.

“I’m…” you stumble over your words. “I— pregnancy is so— Eddie,” you breathe out. Your eyes inevitably start to water.

“Pregnancy is so Eddie?” he laughs before turning towards you, noticing your eyes turning glossy. His face drops immediately, features turning soft as his brows turning up in concern. “Hey,” he hushes. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine, remember? Everything will be fine,” he assures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder again, bringing you closer to him in a hug.

“I know, I just—” you force a breath in your lungs. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You can cry, it's okay,” he says quietly, and unfortunately, each of his nearly-whistled, whispered consonants pulls out a wave of fresh tears from you. His hand rubs over your shoulder and your cheeks only grow damper. “It’s okay to cry,” he repeats and you press your face to the cotton of his shirt. He pulls you in tighter, rubbing your back in long, steady strokes.

Eddie’s seen you cry more than a handful of times— more than several handfuls of times, but this is substantial— it just feels different. Different because you’re pregnant. You’re going to have a baby. A baby with Eddie. Your best friend Eddie. Eddie, who you’ve had sex with three times. Eddie, who you’ve known forever, who you’ve spent day after day with, as a friend. Friends. You’re pregnant. Holy shit.

Your mind races and you divert your thoughts before you stray down that road. “It’s gonna be half you and half me,” you say, mostly to yourself, repeating his earlier sentiment.

“Half you, half me,” he echoes. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and yeah, this is different— different because Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the top of your head. He doesn’t give you kisses on the cheek either. Eddie’s given you noogies, he’s butted foreheads with you, even flicked you on numerous occasions, all particularly during your shared middle school years, but kisses? Kisses are unheard off. What you guys have been doing lately is unheard of.

“We had sex and now we’re having a baby,” you state plainly, trying to bring any coherency to the situation, desperately needed to hear the unheard of.

“We did and now we are,” Eddie laughs.

“You came inside me and now there’s a baby in there,” you continue, hearing every syllable of your own voice.

“That’s—” Eddie laughs quietly again. “Yeah, that’s how it works.”

“I had morning sickness.”

“Yes you did. And mood swings.”

Pause.

“No I didn’t!” you gasp, pulling back from Eddie to look at him with a scowl.

“You kind of did,” he smiles, dimples set deep in his grin.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were also insatiably horny. I was getting leg cramps all night because of you,” he says, bopping your nose, making you scrunch it. Asshole.

“I was not ‘insatiably horny,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Well… if it’s any consolation, if you wanted to have sex again, I could cum in you now, ‘cause you can’t get any more pregnant than you already are,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, purposefully batting his lashes, playing up a faux coyness just to get a rise out of you. Such an asshole.

You respond by hitting him in the stomach, followed by pushing him until he almost falls into the tub, grabbing onto the shower curtain to stop himself.

“Hey— hey, you were the one asking for it!” he defends, corners of his lips turned up in an untimely smirk.

“I’m never having sex again,” you shriek, burying your face in your hands.

“Well, let’s not make drastic choices right now,” he says amusedly, bringing you back in for a hug.

“I’m serious. Never again. Not with you, not with anybody. Ever.”

“Let’s just get some fresh air, maybe we’ll start thinking straight about this,” he laughs, pulling you to stand up and guiding you out of the bathroom.

Pregnant.

tags: @princesatracionera @venuslayla23-blog @mastermindmiko @tlclick73 @yujyujj @josephquinnsfreckles @uselessnewt @animechick555 @prestinalove @sluggzillaa @daisyridleyss (if you want to be tagged for the next part I kindly ask that you please reblog!)

thank you for reading! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader

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myhappylittlesideblog · 2 months

Text

Gotch-yer Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."

Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.

You tried to remember the last time you’d eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. You’d eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.

Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didn’t even need a fork.

It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-

Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.

“William Faukner,” Dale said, smiling.

Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.

By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.

“Shouldn’t we save some?” you asked Lori. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll catch some more tomorrow,” Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “We’re pros.”

Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men who’d gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldn’t imagine how she was feeling about her husband’s return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. He’d just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.

You weren’t a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Daryl’s. You weren’t even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brother’s footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, he’d helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills.

Still, no. He wasn’t very nice.

You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadn’t been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merle’s degrading comments.

“Impressive,” he’d said. “For a quiet girl.”

The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.

Though you wouldn’t have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadn’t expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.

He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, he’d shoved you. “Get lost, girl.”

Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didn’t want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasn’t as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.

That was when you heard Amy scream. You didn’t recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.

After that, it was chaos.

You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t a who. It was a what.

“Get behind me!” Shane roared.

You knew there wasn’t time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log you’d been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasn’t just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like it’d fell out of your body.

It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldn’t hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.

In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, don’t you know anything-

The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it.

“Get up here! Come to the RV!” you heard.

There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.

Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amy’s body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.

“(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!” Shane’s voice was hoarse.

You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walker’s head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hair’s breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemy’s brain. You had one chance, or you’d turn into one of them.

Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.

You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geek’s head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that you’d gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.

Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.

“It’s me,” his voice rasped in your ear.

It immediately calmed you. You held onto Daryl’s arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.

He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage.

“Daryl,” you said to him, “you okay?”

“Whaddah you think?” he snarled. “Ya see mah brother anywhere? Huh?”

So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didn’t have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face.

At least they were back.

It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasn’t going to leave her sister any time soon.

You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldn’t understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers.

Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.

“S’alright,” he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. “Lemme clean it.”

“I can clean it,” Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. “S’mine anyway.”

Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. “Ya did good,” he said.

“You too,” you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team.

He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Try ta get some rest,” he said from the air.

You nodded.

Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.

Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. “S’right bout one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Ya did good. I saw ya when we were runnin’ up the hill. Doin’ what I told ya to do.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.

You shook your head. “It’s yours.”

He plopped it on your lap. “S’yours now. I gave it to ya. You’ll need it.”

You didn’t want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing he’d left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didn’t just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well.

“Thank you,” you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.

You turned to him, but again, he wasn’t looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Merle.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah right. You hate Merle.”

“Hate is a strong word,” you said.

He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest.

You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails.

You waited.

He peeked at you, inhaling deep. “Didn’ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.”

When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after he’d pulled you to safety.

You nodded. “S’alright. It’s been a tough day all around.”

Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive.

There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.

“Just a bird,” Daryl said.

You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. “I’m sick of being so scared all the damn time,” you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-

Daryl stood. “Come on,” he said. He waved toward his tent. “Gotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath ‘er you’ll never calm down.”

You violently shook your head. “I can’t- I don’t wanna be alone-”

He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. “Yer stayin’ with me. So I know where ya are.”

Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?

You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.

“Or do ya wanna stay out here alone?”

“No.”

“Then get off yer ass.”

You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tent’s flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didn’t care. After the walker attack, you couldn’t be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that you’d ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight.

“Ya can take that side,” Daryl mumbled, pointing.

The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Ain’t a bed,” he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.

“Well, I can’t take your bag.”

“Would you rather stick your face in Merle’s pillow all night?”

You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what he’d probably done to that innocent pillow.

“Thought not,” Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.

“The definition of ‘pick your poison’,” you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag.

“Girl-” Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.

You swung back, smacking his shoulder. “I was kidding.”

In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle.

You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasn’t a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.

You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. “Get some sleep.”

It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldn’t bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.

You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. “Don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch much of that,” you said.

His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. “What the hell happened there?” He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. “This happen tonight?”

“No,” you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. “Happened earlier.”

“How’d you bust it up like that?”

“I, um… I just hurt it. Against Ed’s face.”

Daryl gave a laughing hiss. “I saw his face. You did that?”

“Some of it. Shane did the rest.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“He had it comin’,” you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you weren’t sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.

“Fucking badass, girl,” Daryl said.

It was quiet in the dark for a long moment.

“M’not, Daryl. I’m just fucking scared.”

There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag.

“Turn over. That way,” he said.

You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.

“Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in this tent tonight. I gotch’yer back. You can handle your front.”

You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Daryl’s pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.

Before this night, you weren’t sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought he’d run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #Daryl dixon twd #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead

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lavandulawrites · 3 months

Note

Hello first timer here, May I humbly request for Yandere Nanami Kento wherein His darling locked themselves inside the closet and he is getting progressively angry and insane ,but just as he is about to break the door his darling unlocks it

Hiding In the Closet

Yandere Nanami Kento x reader

This is really short so I apologise.

I noticed when I was about to post it that I had miss read your request so I had to rewrite it＿|￣|○ I still hope you enjoy<3

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of murder and punishment

Word count: 603

Nanami’s voice was getting louder and louder. You shrunk in on yourself, holding your breath. He was starting to get furious which was a rarity. You were hiding in your closet trying to just disappear. His footsteps got louder. “Please get out [Name]” his voice irritated.

Two hours ago Nanami left the flat form some grocery shopping. You had decided that today you were going to escape the clutches of the man who claim he loved you so much that he had to keep you safe. You had a proper plan and you were determined. Your freedom was only centimetres away. You had slipped a small screwdriver he had used for fixing the lamp in the living room, in you pocket. To your surprise the overworked man didn’t notice the little tool missing. You had packed some crackers in your pockets so that you had some energy when you escaped. The last thing you wanted was to get exhausted before you knew you were out of reach for the blond man. You unscrewed the bolts keeping the window shut and exhaled. This is it.

You were just about to climb out of the window when the front door opened. You froze in your tracks and didn’t dare to turn. Maybe he didn’t notice you?

“[Name] what are you doing?” he’s deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You slammed the window shut before you could make your escape. His hazel eyes boring into yours. You turned on you heel and ran out of the room. You could hear him call for you. He was mad.

You hugged your knees as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. The small crystals wetted your socks, but you couldn’t care less. You could hear his footsteps approaching. Of course he knew where you were hiding, he just wanted you to feel a small sense of freedom.

Why couldn’t you understand that he only wanted the best for you? Why wouldn’t you let him protect you? Nanami sighed as he ran a hand through his light hair. His patience was really running thin. “Please come out” he squatted before the closest. He could see your curled up figure. “I will count to 10”.

“1”

“2”

“3”

“4”

“5”

“6”

“7”

“8”

“9”

Just as he was about to finish counting she creaked open the closet doors and crawled out like a scared animal. He’s stern features soften. He beckoned you into his strong arms. “You broke my trust. I trusted you to stay put, but no you decided to try to sneak out of a third floor flat. It’s clear that you aren’t ready for the outside world” he sighed as he cradled you. His strong hand gently stroking your back. His breath fanning over your ear. You were shivering. You knew all to well how easy it was for him to snap you in half. You had been a witness to what he did to your dear loved ones. He had told you that it was their punishment for tainting something as pure as you. “It’s a shame really. And I who had planned a nice vacation for us” he sighed.

He lowered his face so his lips were mere centimetres from your ear. “It seems that I have to cancel our vacation. It’s a shame. I haven’t had a vacation for years you know? You really had to ruin it didn’t you?” his voice velvety, almost concealing his condescending words. Someone as him didn’t deserve such an angelic voice. He lifted you up. “What punishment do you deserve hmm…? I have to give it some thought…”

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Babysitting

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Johanna Rytting Kaneryd x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your mothers go out and your babysitters get stressed

Wrapped up in Morsa's blanket and Momma's old jumper, you look especially cute and snuggly.

If Zećira and Johanna ignore your red-rimmed eyes and the anxious little pitter-patter of your feet as you sit with your knees up to your chest, you would almost look peaceful.

Magda and Pernille have gone out for the night, some awards show that was just the same as all the others. But, with both of them up for an award, they couldn't use you as an excuse to get out of it.

So, that left you with your temporary babysitters.

There was a list of instructions pinned to the fridge but neither were quite sure how to look after you in the comfort of your own home.

You'd gotten whiny when your mothers left, bursting into tears and crying for a long while before you calmed yourself by wrapping Morsa's blanket around you like a cape and forcing Momma's old jumper over your head.

You're sitting on the floor now, back pressed up against the sofa with a clear view of the front door just in case it opens. You've got lego bricks surrounding you and Zećira sits opposite, helping you choose which pieces to click into place.

You're a little antsy and anxious but Johanna and Zećira keep walking on eggshells around you. Johanna in particular, walks laps around the kitchen, trying to work out what was suitable to feed a little kid.

You finish your first little flower and get up off the floor. Zećira makes an aborted movement to grab you for reasons unknown and you give her a weird look.

She looks back at you.

You blink.

She blinks.

You go to Johanna in the kitchen and tug on her trousers. "Juice, please," You say.

She looks down at you in shock, for some reason. Like she wasn't in the house where you lived.

Both she and Zećira are being weird today.

"Juice, please," You say again.

"Right! Right, yeah." She nods several times before swinging open the fridge. She grabs the carton of orange juice and goes to pour some into a glass.

You make a face.

"What?" She asks.

"That's not my juice," You say," That's Momma and Morsa's juice."

Technically, it's the family juice but you don't drink it, so you don't want to really claim it as the family juice.

"Oh! Silly me!"

She grabs the apple juice and you sigh.

"That's not my juice either," You say," I don't drink apple." That's a complete lie. You do drink apple juice but you don't really want any right now. "I drink the summer fruits."

Her throat bobs as she pours your drink. You reach for the glass but she keeps holding onto it.

"My drink," You whine.

"I'll hold it," She says nervously," Just in case you drop it. Broken glass can be dangerous, you know."

You give her a strange look. You know that. Of course, you know that. But you also know how to carry glass. You're always super safe and careful and drink from Momma and Morsa's glasses all the time.

You let her hold it though because she's got that look on her face that Momma has when you wander off. If letting Johanna hold your drink helps her to not cry then you'll let her hold it.

You sip at your drink before you return to Zećira.

"Hey, kiddo," She says as you pull Morsa's blanket tighter around your shoulders and sniff at the collar of Momma's jumper. "What do you think about dinner?"

It's a weird question but Zećira's weird sometimes so you answer.

"Dinner's cool. I prefer lunch though."

"No...No, I mean...What do you want for dinner?"

You hum for a moment, clicking a green brick on top of a brown brick. "Want Morsa's dinner." You glance at the door. "When Morsa and Momma comin' back?"

"Later," Zećira says, though she doesn't have a heart to tell you that 'later' really means 'after you're in bed'. "What do you want to eat?"

You think as you grab another brown brick. "Goldfish crackers," You answer," They're my favourite."

Zećira looks ready to start screaming or maybe crying.

"For dinner," Johanna says as she approaches," What do you want to eat for dinner?"

The word 'dinner' makes rapid connections in your head again before you give both of your babysitters a dopey smile. "Morsa makes dinner. She's the cooking boss! If Momma's good, sometimes, she gets to make the brocoli!"

"Well, they're not here right now," Zećira says," So what do you want to eat instead?"

At the reminder, you promptly burst into tears.

"Good going, idiot!" Johanna shrieks, flapping her arms about in horror as you sob and kick your little legs against the floor. "Look at her!"

"What do we do?"

You cry and shriek and pull Morsa's blanket over your head to hide. You feel better in your self-made tent, hidden away from Zećira and Johanna. It's better in here and you breathe in and out deeply like Momma does sometimes when she wants to calm down.

It takes a while but eventually you peak your head out, like a little tortoise.

"Hey," Johanna says softly," Sorry Zećira made you upset. Um...I heard that you like McDonald's? How about we just order in? We don't have to cook."

Your Momma and Morsa never let you have McDonald's. Never ever. You should really tell Johanna this.

"McDonald's! Yay!"

●～●～●～●～

There's no more accidents or crying for the rest of the night. You're content wrapped up tightly in your Morsa's blanket, wearing your Momma's jumper, sitting on the floor with your lego bricks and your McDonald's.

You munch on your fries, your fingers all greasy. Zećira is still sitting opposite you and Johanna is on the sofa, her legs bracketing your body.

You know that you're tired because your legos are no longer interesting and the room is feeling a little too-warm to be awake in. You yawn wide, rubbing at your eyes before blinking to get the sleep out of them.

"Are you tired?" Zećira asks and you shake your head.

You glance at the door. You know what adults are like. If you tell Zećira you're tired then she and Johanna will make you go to bed and you don't want to go to bed without seeing Momma and Morsa.

"I think you are."

You give her your best-Morsa glare. "No! I'm not!"

Johanna laughs. "Alright," She says," You're not tired but I'm going to need a cuddle buddy as we watch a movie. Do you think you're up for that?"

You think about it as Zećira clears away the food and puts your legos back in their special container. The lights in the room are pretty dim and it's still too-warm to be awake. Momma sometimes makes the room like this when she wants you to sleep but you don't really think Zećira and Johanna are smart enough to do that.

So, you nod and clamber up into Johanna's lap.

It starts off easy enough, just sitting on her. But then, she's turning you slightly in her arms, cradling you like Morsa does sometimes. You wiggle a little bit, trying to get comfortable because Johanna's grip isn't quite as sure as Morsa's.

Zećira returns from a phone call she took a few minutes ago. She flicks the light fully off until the only way you can see them is the flickering of the tv screen.

Your eyes droop a little bit as the movie plays. It's animated and in Swedish instead of English so usually you'd happily watch it but you let your eyes slide shut.

As long as you focus on listening, then you're sure that you'd be awake for when Momma and Morsa get home.

●～●～●～●～

Pernille opens the door slowly, trying not to make much noise.

Magda's holding her head, smiling wide as they step into the house.

The lights are off but Pernille isn't worried. She already kind of knew that she would find Johanna and Zećira asleep on the sofa. It was fine so long as they woke up if you had a nightmare or got out of bed. It wasn't like Pernille and Magda were up at all hours watching you as you slept.

Magda flicks the light off. "Alright you two-" Her voice is loud and she stops talking immediately when she spies what's going on.

Zećira has her neck leaned back uncomfortably on the back of the sofa, snoring softly with her mouth open. Johanna is asleep too though in a much more comfortable looking position.

You're cradled on her chest, wrapped up snugly in Magda's blanket with Pernille's jumper just peeking out from underneath.

"They were meant to put her to bed," Pernille says with a hint of amusement in her tone.

"We both knew they were never actually going to get her to bed," Magda replies," That's our job."

Pernille smiles and lifts you out of Johanna's arms without waking her. It wakes you though and your sleepy eyes crack open. You smile dopily at her.

"Hi, Momma," You slur," Hi, Morsa."

"Hi, princesse," Momma says, shifting you in her arms so you can rest your head on her shoulder.

"You look so snuggly," Morsa says, stroking your hair," Did you have a good time with Zećira and Johanna?"

You hum in affirmation. "We did lego," You say as Momma walks you up into your room," And we ate dinner and..." You yawn. "We watched a film."

"Oh, yeah?"

Momma tucks you into bed and presses a kiss to your nose.

"Was fun," You say, still heavy with sleep and both of your mothers know that you won't even remember this interaction in the morning.

"I'm glad," Morsa says. She gives you a kiss on the nose like Momma does.

"Night-night, Momma and Morsa," You say, grabbing at your duvet and turning on your side.

"Good night, princesse."

#woso x reader #zecira musovic x reader #zecira musovic #johanna rytting kaneryd x reader #johanna rytting kaneryd #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #hardersson x reader #The Big Adventures Universe

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 4 months

Text

Being their pregnant partner

Featuring Hinata, Kageyama and

Hoshiumi

Hinata Shoyo x Pregnant Reader; Kageyama Tobio x Pregnant Reader; Hoshiumi Korai x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: Fluff

AN: I guess I’m continuing this series 😌

Hinata

“Babe I’m home!” Hinata called throughout your beach house. Moving to the beach was something he’d always wanted to do and moving back to Brazil provided him with the opportunity.

“Oh great, can you help me get my back?” You asked, appearing from behind the door, swimsuit on and sunscreen in hand.

“Uhh babe what are you planning to do? Go swimming?” Hinata questioned, taking the sunscreen from your hands and rubbing it in your back as you continued to rub it into your growing belly.

“Nope, I was thinking we could play some volleyball! It’s been so long and I know you are just aching to get back on the sand babe,” you confessed as your husband stared blankly at you.

“Umm sweetie, I’d love to play volleyball with you but umm, can you even play in your condition?” He questioned, ripping off his shirt and preparing to head to the beach.

You giggled, “well actually I was thinking more like you play volleyball and I lay on the beach. How does that sound?”

Hinata smiled before kissing your forehead and grabbing your hand, practically dragging you the beach.

Kageyama

“YN what the hell are you doing??” Kageyama shouted, quickly running to grab the ladder that held a very pregnant you on it.

“Tobio what is wrong with you? I’m just changing a lightbulb. It’s not like there’s a fire, calm down!” You scolded, climbing carefully down the ladder as Kageyama tried desperately not to get angry.

“I told you I would change it tonight Yn, why couldn’t you just wait?” He asked calmly as you glared at him.

“Well for your information, I was trying to be a good spouse and help you out. I figured you’d be tired and I didn’t think you’d freak out because I used a ladder one stinking time Tobio!”

Kageyama sighed. He knew you were only trying to help but how could he get it through your mind that he only wanted you to be safe and not get hurt.

“I appreciate it Yn but please wait for me next time ok? You’re really pregnant right now and the last thing I want is for your or our baby to get hurt ok?”

You nodded, admitting the stubborn man in front of you was correct.

“Ok fine but I still get to climb the ladder and you hold it!”

Kageyama laughed, “deal!”

Hoshiumi

“Mmm something smells amazing babe!” Hoshiumi declared as he walked into the kitchen, noticing pots and pans askew aa you hurried around cooking.

“Hey love! Just thought I’d make something special for the most amazing husband and father to be ever,” you grinned as Hoshiumi smiled, kissing your cheek and rubbing your pregnant belly.

As he sat down to eat he realized that this wasn’t an ordinary meal, nope. This meal contained his favorite plum flavored snack crackers. He stared at the crackers and back to you, his eyes now narrowing.

“Ok what did ya do?” Hoshiumi asked as you stood there, a fake look of stunned offense in your face as you ignored your husbands questions.

“What do you mean? Can’t I make a meal for my favorite husband ever?” You questioned as Hoshiumi remained skeptical.

“Well I guess, it’s just that the last time you did this, you told me you were pregnant so obviously I’m a bit nervous Yn.”

You waved your husband off, “well I can’t possibly be pregnant again if I’m already pregnant can I?”

“I guess not,” Hoshiumi responded, resigning himself to finally enjoying the food you’d prepared.

“I mean it’s not like I bought a super expensive baby stroller that you told me I shouldn’t buy but I ignored you anyways,” you smiled as Hoshiumi glared at you, food halfway to his mouth.

“See I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”

#hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x you #Hinata shoyo x pregnant reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama Tobio x pregnant reader #hoshiumi korai #hoshiumi korai x reader #hoshiumi korai x you #hoshiumi korai x pregnant reader #pregnant reader #tw: pregnancy #reader insert #haikyuu time skip #gender netural #gender neutral reader

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milksuu · 5 months

Text

Don't Worry. I'll Support You. | PT. 01

❥ prompt: Your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend has to undergo minor surgery, and they chose you to be their caretaker for the day. Let's see how they are before and after anesthesia. ❥ content/warnings: fluffy fluff, drugged behavior (all medically safe), mention of needles, mild profanity, minor angst ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel! (aphelios, ezreal, kayn) x girlfriend!reader

an: i don't know why this was tumbling around in my head. wow, this post got longer and longer the more i wrote. i swear I'll write for the other babes too.

APHELIOS

Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the first time Aphelios had to undergo surgery. Happened when they had to remove the nodule from his vocal cords. And he doesn't remember a single thing from that day. Alune took care of him at the time, but she never mentioned anything beyond how he slept most of the day (probably to spare him from embarrassment).

He appreciated you taking a day off work to take care of him and be his interpreter. He was fine with all his consents and paperwork. But when it came to more detailed questions concerning his medical history, he would have you translate his sign language to the medical staff. Thanks to you, the process went smoothly.

IV's were never fun to have. Especially when it had to be in the hand. Aphelios couldn't lie and say he wasn't nervous about it, despite his aloofness. But all he had to do was shift his eyes away for a moment, and look at your cute, bubbly face. He could tell you were rambling on trying to distract him, and he guessed it worked. By the time he looked down again, the IV was in. He denied the golden star sticker usually meant for the pediatric patients, but you took it for him as a momento.

When it was time for him to go into the OR, the medical team gave you two a moment. You slipped a hand into his and gave him two love squeezes. He smiled softly and gave three love squeezes back. A quick peck to his lips and you left to sit in the waiting room.

When he was brought to recovery and awake, you were taken to his bedside. When you stepped through the curtain, you saw him resting as if he were asleep at home. Slowly, he opened his eyes, glazed over with mild recognition. Although he felt lethargic, he signed sloppily with his hands.

Is this heaven?

You bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling too much. You shook your head and reminded him where he was.

Oh. Really? Because you look like an angel to me. And if they want you back up there. Forget it. I'm keeping you.

You covered your mouth to keep from giggling too loud. You weren't sure if he was being serious or actually trying to flirt with you. It wasn't common at all for him to be so corny, but you blamed the anesthesia for that. When the nurse came to the bedside, she went over discharge instructions while you held his hand. He kept giving you light squeezes and rubbing his thumb gently against your fingers. Just to make sure you wouldn't fly away. Of course, anytime you had to let go and sign a paper, he sighed heavily (almost a whine if he wasn't careful), until your hand floated right back for him to take. Then he was sighing with relief again.

While at home, it was just the same. Aphelios didn't want you to leave his side for even a moment. If he had his way, you'd be sleeping next to him, still holding onto his hand. You had to remind him many times that you had to take care of him, so no cuddles or naps just yet. You also had to remind him he needed to eat and take fluids after fasting for so long. If there was thing you knew, he was a picky eater. Aphelios seriously thought ketchup packets counted as a full meal and satisfied his daily fiber intake. Luckily, you were able to spoon feed him some soup with a couple of crackers.

After you had him take his first dose of medication, you could finally indulge him. You settled next to him in bed, and he took no time to wrap himself around you, nuzzling your chest. A small, sleepy smile formed against his lips. Maybe you weren't a real angel. But you couldn't convince him you weren't his heaven on Earth.

EZREAL

Oh, boy. This was the first time Ezreal had to have any kind of surgery. Even though it was supposedly minor, that didn't stop the nerves itching underneath his skin. Is it normal to be this nervous? He wasn't sure, but he tried his best to hide his chattering teeth behind a forced smile. He really didn't want you worrying about him more than you had too. You were already doing him a big favor by taking care of him. He just hoped he wouldn't be a wreck before and after.

Apparently, signing consent forms and answering medical questions became a challenge. His hand trembled so much, his usual confident signature looked like a preschooler forged it. And when it came to answering medical questions, he found himself stuttering, feeling like someone stuck cotton balls inside his mouth.

When it was time for the IV, his whole body was ready to collapse in on itself. Was it always so hot in here? Sweat dampened the top of his skin. W-What's the big deal anyway? Not like he was afraid of some tiny, sharp...needle....OK, the room was spinning now. Great—awesome. Man, he felt so lame.

Seeing the color drain from his complexion, his head drop back, and his eyelids fluttering close, you politely asked the nurse to give him a moment with you. She laid him down in the stretcher and brought you a wet cloth. Wiping at his damp face and neck, you rested a comforting hand against his heaving chest. "It's okay to be afraid, Ez. It's not easy to have surgery. You're brave for even being here." He shook his head weakly, clenching his eyes tight. "B-brave. Yeah right, babe. I mean, look at me. I'm practically comatose and the nurse barely even wrapped the tourniquet around my arm."

"Brave doesn't mean not being afraid of anything. It's doing something even knowing it's scary." Another wipe of his cheek and you planted a reassuring kiss. "There's no one braver in my eyes right now." Ezreal swallowed the ball of anxiety nested in his throat. A couple of more inhales and he gathered his remaining courage for the next step that had to be done.

You held his hand the entire time the nurse worked to get his IV started. You told him to close his eyes and take big breaths, and it would be over before he even knew it. He did as instructed, and just like you said, it was done. He admitted to you that it felt a bit itchy, but that he could deal with. Oh, but was it so worth it when the nurse offered him that golden star sticker. He slapped it on the chest of his gown like a badge of honor.

When the medical team arrived to take him in the stretcher, he gave you that million dollar smile and peace sign. Granted, you whispered to the anesthesiologist to give him some relaxing medication before he went in. The anesthesia provider was way ahead of you. When he started giggling, waving, and blowing kisses like he was out the sunroof of a limo driving down the boulevard—oh yeah. You knew he was feeling it.

When it was all over and they called you back to recovery, the nurse informed you he couldn't stop talking the moment he opened his eyes. And all that he was talking about was you. "Babe! Babe! I did it—I can't even believe it's over. I don't even remember them putting me to sleep. Crazy, right? Like, did I count down from ten? Did I make it to zero? I bet I made it to zero." He practically wiggled himself over the safety rails on the stretcher. You sweetly instructed him to keep still so that the nurses could get a decent blood pressure on him. "Okay. Okay. I'll be good. Promise." He forced himself to lay back, but that didn't last long. While the nurse was going over instructions, he was tugging on your shirt sleeve, calling your name, interrupting every moment wanting your attention. Apparently, he had a lot to say to you in the span of thirty-minutes you were separated.

When you arrived back home, by some miracle you were able to have him settled on the couch once you put on his favorite K-Drama. While sitting next to him (and making sure he didn't get up) he rested his cheek against the top of your head. "Thanks for everything, babe. Honestly, you make me feel like the bravest guy. Like Indiana Jones....or Captain Kirk...maybe even that...one actor from National Treasure...." before you could say anything back, you felt his body relax further into you. His light breaths signaling he dozed off seamlessly. With a warm smile, you pulled the blanket over the two of you, and snuggled closer before you joined him for a nap.

KAYN

GOD DAMN IT'S EARLY! Kayn wanted to shout when you woke him up for his 6AM arrival time. Instead, he grumbled, kicked on his crocks, and went in his pajamas. He was too tired to really argue and complain. He just wanted to get this done and over with so he could move on with his life.

Kayn didn't diddle-daddle with his forms and medical questions. He wanted to put on his gown, toss himself into the stretcher, and possibly get a few more winks before his surgical time. You sighed—this was going to be the longest hour before surgery.

Although still in a foul mood, Kayn eased a bit when you worked up a distracting conversation with him. And when the nurse came in to do his IV, Kayn didn't bother blinking. He probably stuck himself countless of times with other—probably sharper—and deadlier objects. Actually, he took it one step further. When the IV was inserted, just to mess with you (and the nurse), he made a loud, and seductive moan. You pinched his arm for startling the nurse. Poor thing didn't even know how to react to that nonsense. "Ow. Ow. Nurse—nurse, she's hurting me." He said, cowering away from you. "You deserve that for almost giving them a heart attack. What if they missed and had to stick you twice?" Kayn smirked, rubbing at his nipple line. "More of a good time for me, then." You rolled your eyes, begging for him to behave for the next half-hour.

When the surgeon came to the bedside, he discussed the procedure at length and a few expectations afterwards. When he finished, he asked if either of you had any questions. Kayn raised his hand like the serious kid in math class. "Yeah. Question, Dr. Shen. When can I have sex again?" You almost spat out the complimentary coffee the front staff so kindly gave you. You couldn't believe he had just asked that question so casually at...let's see.... 06:50 in the morning!

You apologized on his behalf, but Dr. Shen merely dismissed it. "That's quite alright. It's a fair question. And one I receive plenty of times from my male patients. Even ones well into their eighties, and surprisingly, nineties." Kayn nodded with a grin and you rubbed your warming forehead. Of course. What else would they bother to ask? The surgeon went on to say; "As far as any kind of exertional activities, that will all be discussed and cleared at your follow-up appointment in two weeks."

TWO WEEKS!? Kayn almost fainted right then in there. He looked at you with such concern, as if someone told him a Pentakill concert sold out before he could even buy a ticket. He reached over and grabbed your hand, holding tight. "Listen, kitten. I don't think I want this surgery anymore. Can we go home now?" You shook your head disapprovingly. After hearing such news, and you not bailing him out, Kayn sulked as if he was getting surgery to forever castrate him.

When it was time to take him, he begrudgingly let you kiss his cheek. Otherwise, he didn't reciprocate your affection. He tossed his chin away and said. "Whatever. Let's just get this crap over with." Once again, he had you shaking your head, and you apologizing to everyone in the room.

When the nurse came to bring you back into recovery, you noticed he was sleeping on his side, back turned to you. You wondered if he was still upset by the whole ordeal. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, he tensed, but slowly turned over. "Kayn. Are you feeling alright? If you're in pain, I'll tell the nurse—" Before you could finish, Kayn reached forward and grabbed you, pulling you into the tightest hug. You felt him bury his face into your neck and shoulder, hands desperately clinging to you.

"Oh, thank you, thank you." You heard him choke up. You brought a hand to gently comb through his hair, asking him what was wrong. He shook his head. "I...I don't know. I thought— just before everything went black—what if I never saw you again. And the way I acted before they took me..." he squeezed tighter, burying his sulking face deeper. "I'm sorry. I love you, okay? Just, trust me on that. Please."

"It's okay. I love you too," you hummed and stroked his back, continuing to assure him. "You don't have to worry anymore. It's all over. You're still here. The doctor said you did so good, and there were no complications." Pausing, you planted a kiss to the top of his head. "How about we get you dressed so we can go home, hm?" He nodded against your shoulder, and you helped the nurse dress him for discharge.

When you brought him home, Kayn wanted to do nothing but turn off the lights, close the blinds, and lay next to you in quiet darkness. Breathe you in, feel your warmth, and listen to the softness of your pulse against his ear. Focus on the fact that he was alive and you were alive with him—nothing else.

#heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel kayn #aphelios x reader #ezreal x reader #kayn x reader #league of legends #reader insert #x reader #my man dr shen making an appearance #divider by leafsea

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tadpolejourney · 25 days

Text

Role Reversal

Summary: NSFW, 18+! Gale has enjoyed being the dominant one when you role play in the bedroom, but wants to try out reversing the roles for a change. Gale x F!Reader. 3,660 words because I couldn't stop.

Genre: Smut, smut, and more smut. Light bondage with F dom and M sub, masturbation, teasing, cunnilingus, PIV sex.

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written a smut fic. Positive or constructive feedback is very appreciated! :)

After watching the sunset together over Deepwater Harbor, Gale suggests the two of you enjoy a nightcap in your bedroom. He balances a tray with food and glasses of wine on one hand and opens the door for you with the other.

“There is something I have wanted to try with you in the bedroom for some time, and I am quite eager to hear what you think of my idea,” Gale says to you as he sets the tray down on the table between your reading chairs.

“Oh?” you ask, grabbing a small slice of cheese from the tray and placing it on a cracker. “You know I tend to love your ideas, what do you have in mind?”

He watches affectionately as you enjoy the food with a slight smile on your face. “Well,” he begins, “I have rather enjoyed some of the role play we have done in the bedroom lately, haven't you?”

“Oh yeah,” you say, nodding emphatically.

“I was thinking we try reversing the roles, and I be the submissive one this time.” A playful look crosses his face as he reviews your reaction.

Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I like the idea, but I'm not sure how well I will perform. You know I am so weak for you, Gale.”

He chuckles and smiles at you warmly. “You should not doubt your acting abilities! I know I don't. If you find you're not enjoying it and you want to stop at any time, please say so.”

“We should probably just use the same rules and the same safe word we do with me. Do you remember the safe word?”

“Yes, it's mindflayer. The least sexy word we could think of.”

“Okay, let me change into something more suitable for the occasion, and we can get started.” You walk out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You make your way towards a hallway closet, searching for clothing with a very specific look in mind.

From a small jar on a shelf inside the closet, you pull out a pair of hair pins and pin all of your hair up in a tight bun on the back of your head. You find a truly naughty sort of outfit in your trunk, one Gale has yet to see you wear. It's a strapless number with strips of black leather that cross over the breasts and around the back, leaving your midriff and arms exposed. Another pair of straps cross along the sides of each hip, leaving you totally exposed below the waist. You don the absolute skimpiest underwear you own, a silk black G-string. To complete the look, you pull on a pair of thigh-high black leather boots with heels high enough to make you Gale's height, if not a bit taller.

At the sight of you entering the room in this outfit, Gale's jaw involuntary slackens, his mouth going dry in an instant. You don't entertain his reaction, though mentally you relish it. You're already in character, a hardened and serious look on your face.

“Strip,” you command, pointing at him.

He dutifully complies, removing every article of clothing and leaving them in a pile at his feet. He stands naked before you, the tip of his hard member already glistening with pre-cum.

You point to a spot on the floor in front of your reading chair. “Get on all fours, here.” Gale follows your order in silent obedience. You walk around him to sit in the chair. Using him as a footstool, you prop both of your feet up on his back as you settle in and open the book on the table beside you. Unfortunately it happens to be one of Gale's wizard tomes, the margin details in tiny handwriting severely straining to the eyes, the content both overwhelming and impossible to comprehend as a comparatively novice user of magic. 'Unlettered,' as he once called you.

He notices what book you are attempting to read, and can't seem to help himself. From his position, he comments, “Perhaps you should find a book more suited to your tastes. I believe you will enjoy literally any other book in existence more than that one.”

“Not only are you speaking out of turn, you deign to tell me what I should read?” you raise your voice slightly to bring authority to your words. “You just bought yourself 15 minutes on the hook.” You remove your feet from his back and stand up. “Get up,” you tell him sternly. He obeys without another word, and standing before you he realizes your eyes are parallel for once thanks to those heels. He backs up towards the iron hook bolted to the ceiling, and raises his arms above his head. Using mage hand, you bind his hands with rope and settle the strands between his hands into the hook as you settle back into the chair.

You fully intend to make him watch you 'read' this dense wizard text for 15 minutes, knowing how much it will both pain and tease him to see you do so. Even if this were a book you could enjoy, you're not really able to concentrate at all. By this point there is too much blood flowing away from your brain and pooling between your legs.

He notices this and smirks at you, remarking, “It seems you've been staring at that page for quite a while. Perhaps I could read it to you.”

You look up from the book to glare at him. “Your insolence is what distracts me. Once I punish you, I will be able to read in peace.”

“Punish me if you must, my queen.”

“I don't want to hear another word from you.” You use mage hand to pick up his shirt from the floor and gag him with it, tying the sleeves around the back of his head.

Getting up from your chair, you move to pull a peacock feather from a decorative vase by the door. Keeping it at arm's length, you leisurely trail the feather up in a straight line from his navel to his chin. You see goosebumps forming on his skin in the wake of the feather as you circle it back down his neck, along his side, and around the base of his cock. You relish teasing him with these feather-light touches, watching him squirm and shiver as you move around the tops of his thighs, circle around to his lower back, and trace up the back of his neck. You move closer to him now, heightening the tease by bringing your body close to his while still tracing the contours of his body with the feather. You let your breath fall on his neck as he sighs at the pleasure of it. You bring your face closer to his in order to move your lips towards his. Nearly close enough to kiss, but not quite. He pants with desire, but remains still.

You take a step back, dragging the feather along his skin lazily once more before letting it drop to the floor. “You took that punishment very well. So well, in fact, that perhaps you've earned a small reward.”

His eyes widen and his expression grows eager as you move your body close to him again, merely a hair's breadth away. He does not dare press into you or pull away, instead remaining perfectly motionless, lest you withdraw your offer.

“Should I... let you touch me?” you ask in a breathy voice, allowing your strong exhalations to be felt on his skin. “Should I... kiss you? Or... perhaps...” You take your time and remove your clothing piece by piece. Then you take several steps backward, allowing him to fully admire your naked form.

“Yes, perhaps this is your reward.”

He is visibly salivating through the shirt that's gagging him, his eyes moving slowly as though using them to trace every inch of your nude body.

You lie back on the bed and prop yourself up on your elbows, still in full view of him. You watch his face intently as you open your legs and allow him to see all of you, so wet you've been dripping out onto your inner thighs. You settle back into the bed and begin to pleasure yourself as though Gale weren't in the room at all, though of course he is the one on your mind. Making sure to put on a good show for your audience, you use both hands to touch yourself in all the right ways. In no time at all you have yourself moaning and writhing with pleasure. You dare not even whisper his name aloud as you do so, though you have to resist crying it out as you reach your climax.

When you finish, you saunter confidently over to him and bring your fingers, wet with your arousal, to his nose, allowing him to take in your scent. He closes his eyes as he breathes you in.

“Remember how generous I have been to you. Obey me, and your rewards will multiply.” You use mage hand once again to remove the gag from his mouth. Immediately afterwards you insert your slick fingers into his mouth. He greedily licks every bit of your wetness, taking in a deep breath through his nose and moaning on his exhale.

You move back to your reading chair and sit, opening the book once more.

“I'm hungry,” you tell Gale as you use mage hand to untie his binds and unhook him from the ceiling without looking up from the tome. “Feed me while I read.”

He walks over to you and picks up the silver tray of charcuterie on the end table beside you. He bends over to place a slice of blood orange in front of your mouth. You look up at him and raise your eyebrows in contempt.

“You dare stand over me?”

“Apologies, your grace,” he says quickly as he gets down on his knees. He tries once again to bring the orange slice to your mouth, and you take it with your fingers instead, savoring it in your mouth slowly.

You allow him to bring the next bite of food to your mouth. He silently and diligently feeds you each of the types of foods from the tray while you attempt to focus your attention on the book. Once again, you are obviously unable to do so. As your arousal continues to grow, you begin shifting uncomfortably in your chair.

“May I speak?” Gale asks.

“You do not speak unless spoken to, and as I recall I did not speak to you,” you tell him firmly. “That's 5 minutes on the hook for you.”

Without a word, he stands up and sets the tray down, allowing your mage hand to bind his hands once more. He places them above his head and back on the hook.

“If you can manage 5 minutes of complete silence without me having to gag you or use a spell, you may please me enough that I will reward you.”

You set the hourglass, ensuring he can see it just as well as you can. Instead of pretending to read that awful book, you decide to really tease him, stretching every muscle of your fit body in the most gratuitous ways. You bend over in front of him to stretch your hands all the way to the floor. You stretch each leg vertically against a nearby wall, then get down on the floor in a full split, allowing him to view every inch of you as you do so.

As the final grains of sand run out of the hourglass, you walk over to Gale and bring your body close to him, pressing your skin and your heat against his. He shudders at the feeling. You kiss him passionately and lustfully while your bodies press together. You feel his tongue enter your mouth and as it does so he spasms against you, groaning and releasing a stream of hot ejaculate onto you.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just violated?” Your voice comes out strong and firm, though you're not sure how because the way he just came all over you was such a turn-on.

“I lost control of myself, forgive me my queen. You are just so--”

You cut him off, using mage hand to bring the shirt used to gag him before up threateningly towards his mouth. “Do not make me gag you again. Now answer my question. How many rules did you violate?”

“Two, I believe.”

“And what were the rules you violated?”

“I came without permission, and I put my tongue in your mouth without permission.”

“That's 5 minutes on the hook for each infraction. You just bought yourself 10 more minutes up there. And here I was going to let you down so you could touch me... Never mind. You will remain here alone in total silence while I wash your spunk off my gorgeous skin.”

As you back away, you notice he is already hard again. After you've fully turned away from him to leave the room you allow a smirk to cross your face.

You quickly rinse off in the bath, cleaning up your own mess between your legs as well. Instead of re-entering the room completely naked, you decide to wear a sheer white robe. You stand outside the bedroom door and wait, knowing the sight of him naked and hard will compromise your performance if you're left in there with him for too long.

Hoping your sense of timing is good after several minutes, you decide to reenter the room. He can't help but smile at the sight of you, as you struggle to maintain your composure for the sake of your role at the sight of him. His skin shines with sweat, every taut muscle of his body visible in the warm light of the room.

“Your obedience pleases me, Gale.” You give him a satisfied smile as your mage hand unbinds him once again. “I want you to please me further. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I do believe so,” he replies.

“I will leave your hands unbound for now, but you know you mustn't touch me without permission. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“I am going to lie down on the edge of the bed, and I want you to get on your knees between my legs and use your mouth to pleasure me. Is that something you are capable of?”

“Oh yes,” he replies breathlessly.

You assume the position on the bed and he follows, his eyes hungry as they track up and down your body. You can tell he is aching to feel every bit of your skin with his hands. He moistens his lips as he sinks to his knees between your legs.

“You may begin,” you say to him.

True to your demands, he begins working you over expertly with only his mouth, keeping his hands behind his back. He starts with slow, deliberate movements of his tongue, probing your sensitive areas and savoring your wetness with each stroke. You let out soft sighs and moans, letting him know just how well he is pleasing you. He begins moving his tongue more deliberately along the most pleasurable areas of your clitoris, bringing you closer and closer to your peak. You know you really shouldn't touch him at this point in your performance, but as you near orgasm you can't resist. You take either side of his head in your hands and begin running your fingers through his hair. He moans into you at the unexpected pleasure of your touch, and the heat and vibration of his mouth send you over the edge. You feel yourself twitch and pulse against his mouth as he slows his pace to calm you down. He pulls his head back and stares at you with such lust it nearly makes you break character again.

You give him a sensual smile. “I am quite pleased with your performance, Gale. Clean up your face and come lie down on the bed with me.”

You're not sure you've ever seen Gale move so quickly as he stands up and crosses the room. He grabs a towel from a drawer and wipes down his face as he moves towards you, tossing it aside carelessly as he climbs into bed. He lies down beside you, careful to not brush against any part of you while being as close to you as possible.

You turn on your side to face him, tracing your fingers along the small amount of bed space between your bodies. “I want you to do something else for me now, would you like to hear what it is?”

“Please,” he responds, his breath quickening.

“I want to feel your hot cum inside of me.”

Gale's eyes open wider in a brief moment of surprise before narrowing as he smiles cunningly at you, knowing surely you won't make things that easy for him.

“But,” you continue, “You have a limited time to do so, you cannot allow me to come before you, and you must produce an amount sufficient enough to satisfy me. Can you fulfill these conditions?”

“Yes, I will give you your desire.”

Without another word, you straddle him and push him inside of you. Your breath hitches as he twitches and moans at the feeling of you. You place both hands on either side of his body, and he places his behind his head. Knowing him, he does this so he's not tempted to touch you. The last thing he wants is for this to be over because he violated your rules. His eyelids flutter and his eyes roll back in his head as he thrusts up to meet the rolling of your hips. You find a rhythm that suits you well, and you can tell you won't last very long at all. As can Gale, his eyes now open and fixed on you, watching your pleasure build as you ride him. He allows his mind to wander to having the privilege of touching you, kissing you again, or perhaps you even touching him, and it's enough to bring him to climax before you do. You feel a gush of hot liquid pouring into you as his hips buck into yours. He spends every drop inside of you, hoping for your satisfaction.

“Mm,” you hum sweetly, still straddling him. “I believe that was sufficient.” You look down at him and smile benevolently. “You can touch me now.”

Wordlessly, he pulls your robe off your shoulders in one lithe movement. He grabs the pins in your hair in each hand and pulls, letting your hair fall down as he sets them aside. He takes a moment to admire your beauty in the soft light before gripping your hips in his hands and sitting up. He pulls your body close as he caresses your back. You feel him grow hard inside of you. He moves one hand up to tenderly stroke your neck as the other moves downwards to squeeze your buttocks. He explores all of you with his hands in such a firm yet tender way you start to moan and grind your hips into him before you realize what you're doing.

He presses his face to your neck, and you can feel him smiling as he does so. He knows were the roles reversed you would be begging him to kiss your body, to put that practiced tongue of his to use once again. He takes one of your breasts in each hand and begins moving his thumb across your nipples with slow, deliberate circles.

You lie on your back and tell him, “You can kiss my body now.”

Gale takes a deep breath and begins at the base of your jaw, tracing your jawline with his lips. He begins to slowly pump inside of you as he moves down your neck, changing sensations by alternating licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking. Shuddering and moaning with the pleasure of it, you bring your hands up to stroke the back of his neck. He pauses, arching his back and moaning at the sensation of your touch before resuming the slow thrusting of his hips. He takes your hands and kisses them, trailing kisses up one of your wrists and arms before settling back at your neck. You run your hands up and down his back, squeezing to let him know when he finds that blissful spot inside of you. You can feel that he is growing increasingly desperate to kiss your lips, as his kisses move from your neck to your face. At the same time, he quickens his pace, angling his hips and grabbing yours for more powerful thrusts into you. As you feel yourself getting closer, you can't resist anymore. You kiss him so hard you nearly bloody the inside of your lip from your teeth smashing into them, and he meets your passion with his, his tongue gliding over and under and past yours to enter your mouth. The delayed gratification of such a kiss sends you both over the edge. He thrusts sloppily into you, groaning your name into your neck as he finishes inside you, you arching your back in climax as you scream his name.

For several moments, you both pant and sigh, unable to speak.

Gale breaks the silence after a minute. “That was, single-handedly, the most erotic experience of my life. Your performance was truly phenomenal. We must do that again. Assuming you enjoyed it too, of course. Which I do assume so.” He gives you a sly smile.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale #baldur's gate oc #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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nctsworld · 8 months

Text

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork.

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am.

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood).

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one.

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you.

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items.

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once.

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total.

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.”

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften.

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?”

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you.

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain.

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive.

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?”

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?”

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.”

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?”

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?”

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura).

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.”

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.”

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?”

“$130 steak it is.”

“If I—”

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is.

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?”

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought.

You hand him your phone, and he does the same.

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?”

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87.

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.”

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him.

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.”

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs.

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items.

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.”

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

#yn brainrot #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan fanfic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

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5starl1ght · 4 months

Text

Charles leclerc x reader

I'll take care of you

A/n: A little cute one shot where reader gets sick. Hope you enjoy!

Mesterlist

You woke up feeling feverish and miserable, and the only thing that made you smile was the sight of your boyfriend Charles Leclerc sitting next to your bed. He had a worried look on his face, but also a gentle smile that warmed your heart.

"Hey, mon amour, how are you feeling?" he asked, brushing your hair away from your forehead. He kissed your cheek softly and checked your temperature with a thermometer. "You still have a fever, but it's lower than before. That's good."

You groaned and cuddled up to him, feeling his strong arms wrap around you. "I feel awful, Charles. I can't believe I got sick right before your race. I'm so sorry."

He shushed you and kissed your head. "Don't apologize, ma chérie. It's not your fault. You're more important to me than any race. I'm just glad I'm here to take care of you."

He got up and brought you a tray with some soup, tea, and crackers. He fed you spoonfuls of soup and made sure you drank enough fluids. He also gave you some medicine and a cold compress for your forehead. He was so sweet and attentive, you felt like you were in a dream.

You thanked him and told him how much you loved him. He smiled and said he loved you more. He cuddled with you again and told you stories about his childhood, his racing career, and his plans for the future. He made you laugh with his jokes and impressions of other drivers. He sang to you in his beautiful voice and played with your hair. He made you feel so loved and cherished, you forgot about your sickness for a while.

You fell asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and kissed your cheek. He watched over you until you woke up again, ready to repeat the cycle of caring for you until you got better.

He was the best boyfriend ever, and you couldn't wait to get well and cheer him on at his next race.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

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toomuchracket · 4 months

Note

Mads I have this concept in my mind. I see it with d word Matty. I think beginning of the relationship, maybe Matty is supposed to be away for a couple of days so girlie is having a self maintenance night. I imagine her with her hair up to have heat less curl, self tan, maybe some pimple patches. And then Matty surprises her by coming back early, maybe she's waiting for her food, she opens the door and it's Matty. She's super embarrassed/self conscious but of course he's super chill about all of it.

this inspired me to write a lil fic! seeing it as set after candlelight, but before any d words or l words were used lol. enjoy! <3

i've been dying to meet you (d word matty x reader fluff)

the doorbell rings just as you're applying your under-eye patches. you don't rush to get it, though - the drivers know to just leave your food order at the door to your flat once you've buzzed them up. god forbid anyone sees you like this, after all, in the midst of your thursday night routine; you probably look insane, wandering around in your dressing gown and slippers, hair wrapped around a pair of tights and clipped up, face covered in sheet mask and pimple patches, respectively.

but you feel good. and you'll look good tomorrow. which is imperative, given that you’ll see your boyfriend (it still feels weird being able to say that, honestly) for the first time in 20 days.

the thought of that has you slightly giddy. humming happily, you dance through the flat towards the door, only pausing in the living room to click play on the next episode of sex and the city and have a sip of your wine. the mouthwatering scent of your dinner seeps into the hallway, growing stronger as you near the door - it's never quite been so potent before, but then again, you’re fucking starving.

still humming tunelessly, you open the door to grab your food, and come face to face with matty.

your breath catches in your throat in horror - he can't see you like this, so soon into the relationship! - but your heart swells at the sight of your boyfriend in his hoodie and sweats, your (open!) takeaway in his hands. he grins when he sees you, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance; you tense up in preparation of him taking the piss out of it.

he doesn't, though. “hi, baby,” matty says softly. “stole one of your prawn crackers - hope you don't mind.”

you blink. “how- how did you get up here? you didn't buzz.”

“offered to hold the door for the delivery guy and just came in after him. and then i offered to bring this up when i asked if it was for your flat and he said yeah. felt like i was 22 again, honestly, in my old job,” your boyfriend smiles. “although i can safely say i never ever delivered a takeaway to someone as hot as you back then.”

“don't make fun,” you groan, stepping to the side to let him into the flat - he kisses your temple as he passes you - and kicking the door shut. “nobody was meant to see me tonight. s'why i asked them to ring the doorbell and just leave the food without me answering.”

“i did wonder why it took you so long to get to the door, darling,” matty calls over his shoulder as he wanders into your kitchen. he furrows his brow when you walk straight past and continue into your bedroom, laying the food on the counter and following you - well, until the door closes before him. “babe? are you… annoyed at me?”

“no, i'm just putting underwear on,” comes your muffled reply, followed by the sound of a drawer opening and closing.

“don't feel you need to do that on my account, sweetheart, i insist. actually, i'm more than happy to also get naked, if you prefer.”

despite your lingering shock at seeing him, you giggle at your boyfriend’s eager tone. “no, it's alright, matty.”

“you're sure? i've already got my shirt off.”

the speed with which you open your bedroom door at that phrase is almost embarrassing. matty - shirtless, as promised - smirks when you do. “i can't believe you had no pants on when you answered the door.”

you frown, flicking him on the stomach; he just laughs and follows you into the kitchen. “shut up, i couldn't put clothes on, i had just moisturised.”

“what, your arse and all?”

“mhmm.”

“interesting,” matty smirks again. “wouldn't mind seeing that process, to be honest.”

“for fuck's sake, matthew.”

“sorry, darling, couldn't resist,” your boyfriend grins. his face softens into a more tender smile. “just missed you, s'all. hope you don't mind that i came over early and interrupted your pamper night - couldn't settle at home, knowing you were only a few miles away for the first time in weeks.”

the sweetness of his revelation goes straight to your knees; you wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and press your lips to his in a tender kiss. it deepens when matty runs his tongue across your lips, slipping it into your mouth when they open, but that's as passionate as it gets - the overwhelming emotion behind the kiss is just sheer affection.

“i missed you too,” you kiss matty's nose when you pull away. “and you're not interrupting anything, really, s'just my usual thursday night routine,” you pull the little containers of food from the bag and turn to get a plate from the cupboard. “d'you want to split this with me? i ordered too much.”

matty nods, taking the plates from you and grabbing a fork from the drawer to dish the food up. “thanks, sweetheart. so, tell me more about this thursday night thing. you do this every week?”

“yeah, whenever i'm home, just to prep for the weekend. haven't you ever noticed i always look better at work on fridays?” you grin, pouring your boyfriend a glass of wine.

“not really. i think you look beautiful every day,” matty smiles, kissing your hand after you pass him the wine. “although i have noticed your hair is usually really curly during friday meetings. i like it.”

you point to your head. “blame this.”

“serious? i thought you were going to get a blow dry after work or something.”

“nah,” you giggle. “i just go to sleep with this in. feels a bit weird, but i like the end result.”

“so do i,” matty smiles. “you're so pretty, baby.”

your cheeks burn, and you smile bashfully at the floor. “well, when i take all these weird stickers off my face, maybe.”

“no, even now,” matty gently tilts your chin up so he can look you in the eye. “you’re beautiful. my perfect girl!”

he leans down to kiss you again; you giggle as he pulls away afterwards. “oh, you're down bad bad for me, aren't you? still thinking i'm pretty even when i've got pimple patches on.”

“well, yeah, i have eyes.”

“pretty ones, at that,” you rest your hand on his jaw, and he turns to kiss it. “i'm glad you came to see me tonight. would you like to stay over?”

“if i say yes, do i get to be pampered a little bit?” matty giggles.

“oh, i'll take care of you, don’t you worry, baby.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

Text

Fall Drabbles, Day 8

prompt: curling up with a book

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

summary: Matt accidentally startles you and feels really bad about it.

warnings: Swearing, fluff

a/n: This one got away from me lol. Also I have to work a 12 hour shift today so I will probably not be posting the next few days! Sorry my loves!!

w/c: >1k (the new longest)

A sharp crack of thunder echoed throughout Hell's Kitchen, shaking the walls of your apartment and causing you to flinch violently. Shaking your head at your dramating reaction, you tried to get your breathing under control before picking up the novel you'd dropped. The pounding rain acted as a metronome, allowing your heart to mirror its steady pace.

Licking your thumb, you turned through the crinkled pages of The Shining, one of your favorite books, to find your place. You read it every year as soon as the weather turned and the trees dropped their leaves. It was a comforting tradition, but, in another sense, a huge mistake that you made annually.

See, you loved the story, but your nervous conscious was easily swayed into paranoia when you partook in spooky activities--such as reading Stephen King. (As illustrated by your reaction to the storm outside). In your opinion, though, the week or two of fright were worth it for the good read. Besides, these days you had a strong man to protect you from the inevitable nightmares.

With a steaming cup of hot chocolate beside you and a soft fleece blanket across your lap, you settled further into the couch, holding your breath during a particularly suspensful scene. Another crack of thunder roared outside the windows, rattling the glass as it whooshed past.

Smirking pridefully, you instinctively sad up a little straighter when this noise didn't spook you. “Gonna have to try harder than that, thunder.”

“I'm not sure it heard you, love.” Came a rumbling voice from above you, which your pattering heart was not prepared for.

“CHRIST ON A CRACKER!” You screeched, leaping off the couch and ungracefully faceplanting as your feet got snared by the throw wrapped around you. Thankfully, your hands shot out to catch you before you got an impressive concussion. Unfortunately, your right shoulder hit the ground first, underneath your full body weight, leaving you with a stinging ache. “Ow, fuck!”

The concerned face of your boyfriend appeared over you, his hands prying off his helmet before helping you back onto the couch. “Shit, darling, are you ok? I didn't mean to startle you that badly.” Matt winced, guilt heavy in his pretty eyes.

Forcing a smile, you reassured him. ”I'm ok, Matty.“ Gratefully leaning into the warm embrace he offered, you gave a bashful chuckle. ”Pretty sure my ego is more bruised than my arm.“

”Can I check it out for you?“ After three years with the man, you knew this was more of a demand than a request. Sighing, you offered up the injured limb.

Matt gently prodded at the joint, carefully turning your arm from side to side with his head tilted down. Seemingly satisfied with his examination, he set your arm against your side and stood up, heading for the kitchen. Pouting in his absence, you folded your hands together and looked after him. ”Did the city treat you alright this evening?“ Your voice was even, but you were sure he could sense your hesitation nonetheless.

Given your boyfriend's tendency to fall into deep pits of remorse over the smallest mistake, you were confident he was beating himself up for injuring you--despite the fall being entirely an accident and the fact that your clumsiness was in no way his responsibility. When he was in self-flagellation mode, easy questions that encouraged him to focus on the fact that you were alive and safe usually helped.

”Guess so.“ Was Matt's firm response. Apparently 'easy questions' wouldn't be the solution tonight. Stifling a sigh, you pivoted to a riskier tactic.

“Matthew, I can smell the self-pity from here. Please stop beating yourself up and come sit with me?“

Padding back over to you, Matt handed you a wrapped ice pack. ”You need to ice that shoulder first.“

”Pretty sure those two things aren't mutually exclusive.“ You laughed, stroking over his suit-covered arm gently. ”Please?“

Matt perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, tilting his head at you. ”Happy?“ He asked, the question dripping in sarcasm.

With a mischievous grin, you wrapped your arms around his waist, tackling him to the couch cushions. He grunted, but made no move to stop you. Wiggling up his muscular torso, you kissed the tip of his nose, which he immediately scrunched with feigned contempt. Egged on by his surly reactions, you peppered kisses all over his face--breaking into a radiant grin when he laughed brightly. ”Ok, ok! I love you too, bug. Will you ice your damn shoulder now?“

Gratified, you placed the pack against your sore arm and squirmed in between Matt and the back of the couch. Flipping onto his side, his face softened as you pressed your forehead to his. ”Hi,” You greeted him happily, hand coming up to cradle his cheek.

Closing his eyes, Matt let out a breath as you stroked a thumb over his stubbled cheek. ”Sorry about your arm.“

”Matty, sweetheart, I already told you to knock that shit off. I was distracted by my book and I tripped over my blanket when you startled me.“ You mock glared at him, poked his solid chest. ”Tell your brain to forgive you and move on.“

”Hmmm, my brain says no.“ Matt chuckled, but there was no jest in his words.

”Ugh, Matt!“ You groaned, snuggling into his chest. ”What can I do to get you to forget about this?“

”Well, I think I'd be more likely to forget if I got another kiss.“ Puckering his lips, he closed his eyes expectantly. You scoffed, but gladly pressed a longer kiss to his mouth.

”That better?“ You asked, brushing your noses together as your hand moved across his jaw and into his hair.

Your boyfriend went slack against you, murmuring in assent before asking, ”Whatcha reading tonight?“

”The Shining. That's why I was so spooked when you got home.�� Matt chuckled quietly at the admission.

Burying his face in your chest, his lips tickled the skin over your collarbone. ”Read some to me?“ His voice was small, as if he expected you to turn him down.

”Of course, love. Did you want to change first?“

Matt simply shook his head. So, you retrieved your book and opened it to the page you'd last read. Kissing his forehead, you grabbed the blanket from the floor and spread it over the two of you. ”Wendy sat in the overstuffed chair by the window with Danny on her lap, holding him, crooning the old meaningless words..“

Your velvety voice surrounded him, lulling his adrenaline filled body into a state of peace. His breathing evened out as you continued petting his hair and reading aloud. It wouldn't be long until he fell asleep, but he knew you'd be there when he woke up.

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postmodernbeliever · 22 days

Text

sick and twisted- fox mulder x female reader (smutsmutsmutsmut)

in a sudden bout of sickness, you are staying with fox, who is yearning to take care of you (...in more ways than one.)

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hope you enjoy this incredibly horny thing... wrote this as i worked through raging period hormones <333 (sometimes i still get a little nervous to post these but yknow what. if im thinking it someone else is too probably. so yolo)

my ao3 | word count: 2,906

content tags: soft dom fox mulder, fox mulder the top of every girl's dreams, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, sickfic, sick reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering & sex, plus size reader if you squint, past fox was a little plus size if you ALSO SQUINT!!!!, idiots in love, pet names, smut, pain relief, talking you through it bc he's a nice boy, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

it was twisted, the way fox was turned on by you being sick. it checked every fantasy in his head off the list and you didn't even know.

by the time you got off work last night, you felt the brain fog rolling in, and you came straight to fox’s place instead of your own- and he was more than happy to oblige you. he wanted to set you up in his bed, but you refused, so he made you a little home on his couch, fixed with his good pillows and the blanket you designated as your own months ago. the man had been itching to come home all day. his brain was so out of the loop, in fact, that he handed dana a case report only half completed, with sentences stopping midway through. his partner had to force him out of the office just so he didn’t screw anything else up, but he couldn’t care less, because he was on his way home to his girl. he even went to the store to get you ginger ale and animal crackers, because he knows that’s your favorite remedy. and god, if you weren't everything he’d been dreaming of since he left you last.

you were splayed out on his couch beneath a blanket, coughing up a storm. your nose was red and irritated from blowing it into so many tissues, lips swollen from all the chapstick and chewing; a glassy, sleepy look glazed over your eyes, and your skin paled everywhere but your cheeks, which were flushed in a pretty little smear across your face. you were in his old academy t-shirt, which left room to breathe- he was a bit bigger back then, lucky for you- and a little pair of boxers that were hiked up your thighs from sitting in them all day. you were the vision he couldn’t have conjured even if he tried. he wished that they could make a calendar of just you, looking like this, for every month until he died. but above all, your voice was the part that truly drove him up the wall. you didn’t think of the raspiness as much more than grating, but to him? gruff, weak, gentle, needy, undeniably brutally irrefutably hot- he had a thesaurus written just to put it to words. every word that fell from your lethargic lips was like music to his ears; he could listen to your stuffy breathing forever.

fox had been taking care of you, despite your protests to leave you be. you didn't want to get him sick, but he didn't care. he insisted on keeping you company and doing mindless work at his living room desk until you felt like getting back into the world. that was another thing. seeing you helpless and dependent on him, needing him to feel better… he loved that. he loved spoiling you, feeding you, treating you like a princess. that's what you were to him. there was so much in his life that was out of his control, that he couldn’t protect, but you were the one constant thing he could keep safe. the one thing he could selfishly keep. there was no chance he was going to give that up so easily, not when you were catering to his urges so wonderfully.

it was getting late, but you'd slept all day, so the exhaustion behind your eyes was keeping you awake. overtired and restless, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't get comfortable. the man heard rustling from the couch and turned in his desk chair, a serene smile on his face. he noticed you shifting awkwardly and came to the rescue.

"what is it, baby?"

you ceased trying to rearrange the contents of the couch and let yourself flop against the pillows, huffing in aggravation. "ugh, nothing. just can't get comfy."

"let me help you," fox urged. he rose from his chair and stalked over, kneeling dutifully at the couch's edge to help you adjust the pillows behind your head and beneath your legs. "better?"

"mhm. thank you."

"of course. how’re you feeling?"

"not good," you pouted, voice thick with strain, "my head is killing me, and my stomach is aching. and my nose and throat, too… i took some medicine not too long ago, but it’s taking forever to kick in… ugh. you know i hate being sick."

that childish pout had his stomach churning. he knew this wasn't about him, and you needed rest, but he also couldn't ignore how enticing you looked, all innocent and sleepy on his couch. how you trailed off between thoughts, working through the sick haze in your head. he leaned over a bit to rest his hands on your lower abdomen, pressing the heels of his palms against your belly softly. you hummed at the touch, and he had to force his eyes not to roll back.

"what can i do to make you feel better?"

"can..." you trailed off. "maybe you could cuddle me?"

"i'd love to."

the man climbed onto the couch without a thought, allowing his body to mold to how yours curved. you felt his strong chest rising and falling against your back, the constancy soothing as he draped his arm over your side, letting his rough hands drift slowly back down to your tummy. fox pressed a few lazy kisses behind your ears, causing the hair on your arms to stand up stiff. his lips were always warm, but with your skin burning up as it was, they felt frigid.

"too cold?"

"mm-mm," you hummed. maybe they were, but you weren’t going to jeopardize him stopping.

fox was starting to disregard his better judgment as he tucked himself into you, feeling the feverish heat of your back. he was more attuned to the motions you made than his thoughts. the way your hands, so soft, just a touch smaller than his own, laid safely atop his wrists; how when he rubbed slow circles against your aching stomach, you made a little noise that was something heavenly, both hum and sigh; how your left foot ran up and down your right leg, feeling the fuzzy fabric of the blanket wedged between. he was so lost in how good it felt to be wanted that it was crossing over into obsession. he wanted every square inch of you to need his attention. he wanted to touch every spot that felt sick and nurse you back to life- to have it engrained in your head that only he could make it feel better, and no one else.

so engrossed in his urges, fox kissed a little more, and what started as innocent turned urgent. he sucked softly behind your ear, nipping relentlessly on that sensitive spot you had. you began to pant, feeling the fever chills leave and a different kind of warmth roll over you. you pushed your hips into his hands, trying not to squirm and failing miserably.

"oh, god," you covered your face with your hands. “fox…”

fox’s low laugh rumbled against your shoulder blades. the man relished in your inability to resist. his fingers began to travel down to your boxers, and he tucked his hand right below the waistband. he put pressure right against your heat and you buried your face as best as possible into the couch cushion, letting out a helpless whine.

"feels good, right, baby?"

"a-ah," you hiccuped.

"m'just gonna touch it, that's all,”

"but-"

"i can make you feel so much better," he kissed your ear, "make all those aches go away so fast, baby. can i?”

"please," you whispered.

he reached down and dragged his fingers along the fabric separating him from what he wanted, feeling the wetness beneath. his touch was feather-light, and as he gently wriggled his fingers beneath the cotton, you squeezed your eyes shut and scratched softly at the knuckles of his hand still on your waist. you were struggling to do anything other than lie there, but he didn’t need a thing from you anyway. eagerly, you felt his steady fingers brush against your entrance, and his lips parted hungrily at how slick you were.

"god, you're so easy, aren’t you?"

fox dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters. when your hips rocked back into his, he couldn’t bite back the greedy smile that overtook his face. impatient, he pushed them deeper, feeling the familiar pressure of you squeezing around his hand. you licked your chapped lips, feeling a knot tying itself in your tummy where he worked his fingers inside you. he’d been away a lot recently, so much so that this was a reminder of just how long his fingers truly were.

"mm, now how’s that, sweetheart?"

"it’s… good," you drawled.

"you like it when i touch you like this, don't you? y’like how my fingers feel?"

you turned your head to look down at where his wrist disappeared beneath your boxers, and you keeled back against the pillow, meeting his broad shoulder. you shuddered in pleasure, and he craned his neck over to lock you in a kiss, feeling possessive like never before. he tasted the minty vicks above your lip and moaned right into your mouth.

"my poor, sick girl… just need me, don't you, baby? oh, you just want me to make it feel better, i know."

you practically melted into the couch as he buried his fingers between your hips. skillfully, he maneuvered you onto your back and crawled up and over so you could lay flat; he anchored his arm right over your head so he could stare down and watch the bliss reach your rosy face, all the while never taking his hand away. once you started breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out, dragging his slick fingertips across your stomach, leaving shiny streaks behind. when you groaned at the loss, he clicked his tongue.

"no whining, angel. i'm not done. i'm gonna take good care of you."

you watched through spinning vision as he pushed down the couch, crawling low until he could lean over your hips. then, with his big palms stationed between your thighs, he spread you wide, ogling your plush pink folds.

"you're so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

he pressed a few kisses on the mound just above where you ached, sending shocks up to the tips of your hair. then, he dipped his tongue right inside. he was too needy to start with kitten licks, so instead he swirled around, curling his tongue like a hook, big button nose rubbing against your clit as he breathed you like air. you were officially somewhere new, somewhere out of your own mind; his tongue was so long it could've been one of his god-given fingers, so warm inside you, so deep you couldn't see straight.

"mmm- god- i love you.”

your toes curled as he moaned all kinds of sweet nothings into you, feeling the soundwaves rolling against your walls. just when his tongue had you going, he moved up to your clit and began sucking so hard you started seeing stars. you clamped your thighs around his head and felt his strong, rough hands grip the chub on them hard, fingertips digging enough to leave moon-shaped bruises. you tugged on his hair, unable to do anything but feel him against you and try not to slip away. but there was no stopping the way you floated in limbo, surrounded by the way he made you feel.

"fuck, baby, look at you," he growled between your hips. "c’mon. let me hear that scratchy little voice of yours."

"oh my god," you moaned, "oh, y-you... i... fox,"

"fuck, that's it. is it good, love, am i good?"

"you're so good! so…s-so good…fuck!" you fought not to trail off, but thinking was hard enough as it is.

“that’s my job, sweetheart.”

he kept himself there, getting off on the way you bucked your hips against his jaw. it didn’t take much longer for the burning in your stomach to grow unbearable, and through trembling little spasms confined by his stronghold on your waist, you unraveled right on his tongue. he came up for air with milky lips after working it out of you for a minute, pressing wet kisses all up your stomach and chest. you felt so dirty as you smiled down at the sheen trail of cum prints in the shape of his pretty lips.

“good girl. did that help?"

"mhm," you heaved, head spinning. “need…”

"what? what is it?"

"i- oh..."

"use your words, princess. words."

"c-can you- you..."

he knew what you wanted. he saw it in the pathetic way you glanced from your hips to his, too worked up to get it out. he chuckled in a way that sent chills up your legs and said, "awh, baby. you want me to fuck you now?"

you bit your lip and bucked your hips in the air. he lodged his leg between your thigh with a smirk and you pressed yourself against it, grinding on the worn fabric of his sweatpants. he felt a wet patch soaking through to his skin, and he twitched in anticipation. you batted your eyelashes and let out a raspy little noise, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt while you moved. and when a sniffle interrupted your humming, it drove him right over the edge.

"fuck. you’re so cute, you little tease.”

he shimmied his sweatpants down in an instant and wasted no time, groaning gutterally as he pushed in and bottomed out. you were hot around him, pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

"fuck, baby. never gets old,” he swooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your chin.

he began to thrust in and out, hips rolling religiously into the curve of your legs. you clung to his shoulders and tugged him down so he was stuck against your neck, breath hot. he began to fuck you faster, pressing starving kisses to your collarbone, and you arched your back, gasping for a solid breath.

"oh my god!"

"god, you’re so tight," he growled, “been saving it all up for me, huh? missed me bad, i can tell,”

"mm… fox!”

"you like it when i fuck you like this? right on the couch, where anybody could see in that window? say it, baby,”

"i love it," you croaked, gathering the little tufts of overgrown hair at the nape of fox’s neck and tugging them in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself. he tipped his head back into your touch and whined, and you gave a dizzy, darling smile.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you, i fucking love you," he praised, timing every confession with a thrust of his hips.

all you could manage was a distracted, "m-me... too... ah!"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he uprighted himself and yanked you by the love handles, dragging you down the couch like a doll. he clawed at your hips, leaving red marks he’d have to soothe later. fox snapped harder and harder, losing control but not caring at all; you let him take you in his hands, surrendering until you couldn't take anymore, and suddenly the knot in your stomach burst. you shivered and writhed all around, whispering his name like a strangled prayer as your hands searched for something to squeeze. he leaned down so you could grab his biceps, and you scratched at them like a cat, a string of lewd things falling from your tired mouth. he came undone as you clenched around him, and his warmth in your tummy was so thick you felt like you could feel it in your throat.

"so good, baby, jesus christ," fox wheezed. "you sound so pretty when you’re sick. can’t help myself."

you were nearly unresponsive. your head had never spun the way it did now, and your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, along with your throat. you couldn't form any words, all you could do was claw at his arms and tremble, face stuck in a permanent state of bliss.

"feeling any better?" fox pressed little kisses to your chin and neck and eyes, and he traced shapes on your stomach to wake you up. "come on, princess, open your eyes. come back to me.” when you smiled and sighed, letting out an embarrassed giggle, he cooed, "there she is, my pretty girl."

"mhm."

"still feel bad?"

you shook your head sweetly, eyes drooping. "nuh-uh."

his heart swelled and he just wanted to eat you alive, so he did the next best thing. he leaned down and kissed your swollen lips with a softness he abandoned just minutes ago, swiping his tongue against your lips and all over your face. he kissed you with all the maneuvers of love he could muster, and you hummed against his mouth, pulling on his hair to hear those pretty little sounds again.

"you’ve got me so whipped, sweetheart," he purred between kisses, "just wanna take care of you."

"you're so good at it," you blushed.

"i do what i can."

he kissed and kissed and kissed you into the couch, and all that kissing got heated, and one thing led to another because the two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves. and the next day, he woke up as sick as you. who saw that coming?

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #x files smut #smut and fluff #plus size hehehehhe

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