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moonlightazriel · 3 months

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What matters most /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "i’m not sure if you taking requests but I was wondering if you could write something for Az where he has a whole mate and child/family and the IC doesn’t know bc he was to scared for people to know and therefore putting his little family in danger 😭 kinda just an angsty fluffy fic 🫶🏻"

Warnings: Mentions of injury, angst and fluff

Word Count: 2,4K

Notes: This request was so fun, i love this fic very much. Thanks again for the request anon ❤️❤️

Main Masterlist

Tired eyes roam around, wings almost touching the ground, Azriel’s focus on the other side of Velaris as Rhysand kept talking about the same problems in the Hewn City. He really tried, but the tugs in his chest urged him home. To her.

“We need to go there next week.” Rhysand looked around, his eyes landing on the clearly distracted Shadowsinger. “Everyone must go.” He emphasised, making Azriel internally groan in annoyance.

He wanted to ask for some time off, take his mate and their daughter on a vacation, enjoy their presence and just be with them for as long as he could. Rhys dismissed the meeting and he immediately jumped out of his seat. He wanted to be with her, hold her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her. A month away from his mate and their family was always hard, crushing his spirit and draining his energy until he was by her side again.

Without a proper goodbye and completely ignoring Feyre’s invitation to stay for dinner, Azriel fled, his wings carrying him with the wind. The house on the outskirts of Velaris irradiated life. The faelights surrounding the garden welcomed him home, he happily sighed, pushing the door open and sniffling the air, chicken and herbs filled his senses, a tint of strawberry mixed with chocolate chips.

He smiled as the strawberry scent grew stronger, and a pair of arms wrapped itself on his left leg. He looked down, the toddler, 3 years older than Nyx, moved herself around, the tiny wings slowly whooshing in the air as he scooped her up.

“Mommy! DADDY’S HOME.” Little Selene screamed, and he kissed her cheek.

“How are you, baby? Did you take care of mommy for me?” The little girl nodded excitedly.

“I did, and mommy took good care of me too.” Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed his face, loudly smacking her lips against his skin.

“I don’t deserve a kiss too?” His beautiful mate appeared in front of him, some hair strands falling from the bun she always wore while she cooked, a dirty apron covered her front and she held a wooden spoon, Azriel never saw a much more beautiful sight in his entire life.

Placing Selene on the floor, he pulled her by the waist, his lips delicately brushing against her warm ones. Bliss was the only word close enough to describe the feeling of being in her embrace, being near them, his two girls, the two people he loved the most in this world.

“How was the mission?” She asked, grabbing his hand and leading the way towards their bedroom. Azriel could see the candles illuminating the bathroom, and the bathtub filled to the brim with water and foam, his favourite soap filled his nostrils. She always had a bath ready for him, a pair of fresh clothes and a warm meal whenever he got home from a mission, he could stay two days away or two years, he would always get home to that.

“Incredibly annoying, I couldn't wait to be done and come home.” He discarded his clothes, her hungry gaze watched his every move, he could hear her swallowing hard at his naked figure. He submerged in the hot water, his muscles relaxing right away, she sat by the tub, a cloth in hand and started to rub his back.

“And I couldn't wait to have you back home.” She rubbed a particularly hard spot on his neck that had him moaning in relief. He rested his head against her thigh, her long fingers stroked in between his hair, massaging his scalp. “Lene has a surprise for you.” She warned and he looked at her.

“What is it?” His wife giggled, and raised an eyebrow, which always indicated that she would keep quiet. He smiled at her, stealing the cloth from her hands and rubbing himself. “Then I'd better hurry up.” She nodded, getting up and heading out of the room.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“As we trained, baby.” Y/N spoke, the late night breeze was a comfortable relief against the hot summer night. Azriel sat by the porch, Y/N held Lene’s hand and the little girl looked at her mother for reassurance. “You won’t fall, and if you do, daddy and I are here to catch you, always.”

With a confident gleam in her eyes, Selene’s wings moved, forcing her body upwards, little by little she started to float, her little hands slipping out of her mother’s reach. Azriel watched in complete awe as his daughter flew, her little body being carried towards the main gate and back to her mother. A month ago, Selene couldn’t go anywhere without holding their hands.

He got up, clapping and urging her for another lap towards the gate and back to him. Her dark hair moved around in the wind, her flushed cheeks and her proud expression crashed against his chest. She squealed in delight as he held her, spinning her around.

“That was so amazing. My girl is growing up so fast.” He kissed her cheek. “Soon you will be flying faster than your old daddy here.” Selene nodded in agreement.

“I’ll be the fastest Illyrian in the world.” Her mother came up to them, her fingers poking her belly, making Selene squirm and laugh.

“You will, my love. But now it’s time to go to bed, okay?” The little girl looked at her father, her mothers eyes looking at him. She was the perfect mix of them both.

“You heard your mother.” He leaned to whisper in her ear. “We can’t disobey her, or else she’ll ground both of us.” Selene nodded, and they took her inside. Azriel placed her in bed, kissing her forehead and wishing her a goodnight, once again telling her how proud he was of her flight.

“She wanted to train all month.” Y/N said, removing the hair tie and letting her hair fall loose, she removed her clothes and reached for one of his old shirts that reached the middle of her thighs. “I wish I could teach her more.”

Despite being a full born Illyrian, Y/N was born without wings, no one understood how this even happened, but Azriel was glad that she was spared from the wings clipping cruelty that still happened on the camp she was born.

“You do more than enough, tonight just proved it. She’ll carry you when you’re too old to even walk.” She laughed, her beautiful smile plastered across her face.

“So I only get to fly when I'm in diapers?” She rested her head against his chest.

“Okay, okay. I’ll take you flying tomorrow.” He rolled his eyes and she playfully slapped his chest. “You have no idea how much I love you.” He blurted after a minute of silence. “I’ll ask Rhys for some time off.”

“You will?” Her big eyes turned towards him, hope sparked in them. He knew he worked a lot, and she was very patient with him missing important things, but someone could only be patient to a certain point, he knew she would snap soon and he didn’t blame her.

“I will, I promise to you.” She kissed his chest.

“I love you, Az.” He could see the excitement covering her tone even if she tried to hide it, he was going to ask Rhys after the trip to the Court of Nightmares, he was sure that he would understand.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel fixed his leathers, the new syphon in his chest was a shade darker than the others, he had used his main one to make a ring for Y/N and a necklace for Selene, so they would always have an important part of him with them. The remaining of the stone was well guarded in case he needed to make more jewellery for Lene’s future siblings.

“Everyone ready to go?” Rhysand’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him, but before he could muster a response, a piece of paper materialised itself in front of him. At the same time, his chest was flooded by a wave of pure distress and fear. He shifted anxiously, opening the paper.

“Selene got too excited flying and she fell, i think she broke her arm. I’m taking her to the healers hall, please meet me there.” The words sank in his chest, she was eager to fly a longer distance because he had said if she could fly until she reached the tree a few feet away from their house, he would take her flying for a whole day. It was his fault.

He didn’t register the voices calling his name, he just wanted to get to Selene as fast as he could. He was halfway into the threshold, hand on the cold doorknob, ready to leave, when his body suddenly went completely still. He couldn’t move.

“I told you to stay.” Rhysand’s High Lord voice commanded and he growled, turning to him slowly.

“Let me go.” Azriel demanded. Rhys raised an eyebrow, he never had to use his powers on Azriel because he never failed to do his duty.

“Whatever is wrong with you, it's not more important than this trip, i told you everyone must go.” Everyone in the room could see the rage simmering in the Shadowsinger’s gaze, his golden eyes burning holes in Rhysand’s skull.

“I don’t want to fight with you. LET. ME. GO.” His pure will of being with his family pushed Rhysand’s restrainings away, they silently watched as he started to move.

“I already told y..” Rhysand was cut short by the furious laughter of Azriel.

“Nothing is more important than my daughter.” The words left his lips, leaving the whole inner circle astonished, his what? “Let alone that maggot who thinks he’s better than you.” Azriel turned around. “So I'll see you later.” And with that he left.

Azriel kept his little family hidden from everyone, even from the people he trusted the most in the world, cuz he could never forgive himself if something ever happened to them. The thought of having them kidnapped and used as a way to get to him, their bruised bodies and broken spirit always flooded his mind whenever he thought of revealing them to the world. They were his most precious treasure and he would do anything in his power to keep them safe from the people who could harm them.

“We need to go after him.” Feyre said, the distressed expression on his face completely shattered her heart. “And you will apologise, he would never fail his duty if it wasn’t important for him, you should’ve let him go.” She scolded and guilt filled Rhys’s violet eyes. He nodded, the Hewn City could wait, his brother was more important, and apparently his niece’s wellbeing too.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

As the inner circle arrives at the Healers Hall, they spot Madja, she’s talking to a female. The female holds a little winged girl tightly against her chest, the little girl has a cast on her left arm, her little eyes are red with tears, a wet trail down her cheeks and the cutest pout ever. Without needing confirmation, they just know that it’s them.

They slowly approach, Azriel’s eyes meet Rhysand, he’s holding a glass of water and heading back to the female’s side. She’s too focused on Madja to notice the group coming behind them. The little girl notices tho, her eyes looking curiously at them, her features painfully familiar to the male standing by her side. Azriel whispered something to the female as Madja left.

She turned to them, her hand smoothing the girl’s hair. They looked beautiful together, and they wondered if she was his mate. By the way he pulled her close, they could only assume that yes, she was his mate. They could only guess what reason he had to hide them, the family he always wanted, how heavy this secret might’ve been to carry alone.

“What happened to this beautiful girl?” Feyre asked, stepping forward. Selene looked at her parents for reassurance, the two of them nodded slowly.

“Tell what you’ve been up to, Selene.” The female’s soft voice sounded. Feyre almost laughed with the coincidence, certainly Azriel noticed it. Selene the goddess of the Moon and Nyx the goddess of the Night.

“I wanted to fly like daddy, but I fell.” She lifted the cast to them. “Do you want to sign it?” Feyre nodded, despite looking like Azriel, she wasn’t as shy as he was.

“Not now baby.” He said, his eyes locked up in a staring match with Rhys. “Maybe later, when they come over for dinner.” The High Lord nodded, they wouldn't miss this chance of learning about this secret part of his life.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The house was cosy, in a quiet place, like they always pictured Azriel’s house as. Coloured markers were scattered around the living room table, everyone needed to pick one and sign Selene’s cast in order to access the rest of the house, as she happily demanded. Swirls of shadows, hearts, flowers and names marked her cast, she meticulously examined every single drawing, before happily dragging the three year old boy along with her, towards a pile of toys.

Y/N, as she introduced herself, was moving around the kitchen, different aromas lingered in the air, Elain was immediately by her side, chopping vegetables. Feyre and Mor prepared the table, while Nesta watched over the kids. The females talked, getting to know all they could about Y/N and their family. She happily engaged in the conversation like they were long time friends.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhys sat by the living room, cups filled with liquor. Rhys wanted to apologise, so he cleared his throat, his violet eyes filled with regret. The two males stopped the chat, turning to him.

“I’m so sorry for how I acted. I should’ve assumed that you would never leave if it wasn’t important for you.” The Shadowsinger nodded. “I should’ve never stopped you.”

“And I should've told you, a long time ago.” He answered.

“No, you didn’t have to.” Cassian intervenes.

“He’s right, you had your reasons, I would've done the same for Feyre and Nyx.” Azriel smiled, knowing very well that he would, in fact, do the same if he ever needed to.

“I don’t want to hide them anymore.” He looked over to his mate, talking with his sisters in law, and his daughter, playing with her cousin.

“Then we’ll be glad to be their protectors.” Rhysand spoke. Cassian reached for his and Azriel’s hand.

“As long as we live, they will be safe. All of them. That is a promise.” And their skins prickled, a tattoo forming to seal the bargain made between the three brothers. As long as they lived, their families would always be safe, no harm would ever get to them.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel acotar

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ma1dita · 1 month

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My dearest sweetest moony

I, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to hold Luke close and let him sleep the best sleep he has ever had in his life, don't let Kronos talk to him or get close to my boy

1, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to help the campers sleep, help all of those kids get their desired rest

Please let this daughter of Hypnos help her children (the campers) and her husband (Luke)

🐥

(i wrote this request and another one but I didn’t put the 🐥 on them, should I send them to you again or not? Sorry about that darling, love ya, and again I’m really sorry for the inconvenience)

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x hypnos!reader

wc: 756

—

Honestly, Luke was starting to feel bad.

Every free moment he gets to spend with you, he’s been falling asleep. He fell asleep during your lunch picnic last week, sprawled out on the red and white checkered blanket—cheek against your lap as you read a book, on your shoulder at the bonfire last night even with Percy and Grover trying to screech out the lyrics to ‘Unwritten’, and even now as you brush through his curls as you read all of cabin 11 a bedtime story.

Luke knows that dating a daughter of Hypnos has some advantages for sure—you get to stay in the bunk next to his since you don’t have your own cabin, your dad blesses him with nice dreams for taking care of you, and everyone quiets down easier for the night as you project images of sheep for them to fall asleep to. But as he rubs his eyes to the sound of your calming voice, he reckons he’d punch the shit out of a sheep if another misty image of one decides to trot near the air of his bunk. You’re nestled against his arm, looking ethereal with moonlight shining against your cheekbones as you watch his eyelashes flutter slowly from the weight of his eyelids.

“You need to stop doing that, my dream girl.”

“Hmm?” you whisper, voice breathy like cool air. Yawning, you press your cheek against his bicep with a smile.

“Stop putting me to sleep. Wanna spend time with you,” he mumbles, trying to not wake the other campers.

“M’not doing anything, Lu. Besides, you’re cute when you’re asleep,” you chuckle, and his arms wrap around you tighter as his hands dip into his pajama pants you stole from his dresser.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” he pouts, reaching to tickle the skin that peeks out from under your shirt and you giggle. The sound of it is loud enough to echo across the cabin, but something extra must have been in your voice tonight because not a single camper stirs.

In a room full of people, the two of you share a moment that’s just for the both of you, watching each other quietly with soft loving smiles. Moving closer to his face, your lips press kisses into the lines that crease his forehead, the scar running down his cheek, the tip of his nose, and finally the plump of his pouting lips. He pulls you in deeper, smiling softly against your kiss that’s ever so gentle until he’s drifting off…

You don’t take offense to it though. Sleep is your gift bestowed to you by your godrent, and to share that with your love makes it the best gift of all.

—

Luke jolts up the next morning after his nose dips into his bowl of cereal. The nymphs and younger campers all chatter and giggle around you two as he grumbles, shoving another mouthful of now soggy Frosted Flakes into his mouth. You smile, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, taking a bite of your waffle.

“You okay, baby?”

He huffs, kissing the back of your hand before you stand up to go and grab napkins. Annabeth rolls her eyes from across the table, which makes Luke toss a chunk of banana at her.

“What?”

“You’re too dramatic for your own good, Luke,” she sighs, stirring her iced coffee with a straw. She looks at him exasperatedly when he looks more confused by her statement, even if it’s the truth.

“I just feel like a bad boyfriend. Always falling asleep on her. Never do that with anyone else, and sometimes I think she does it on purpose…” he says, leaning against his palm.

“It’s the oxytocin,” Annabeth says, and Luke looks at her blankly, “Your brain releases oxytocin around people you love, and as a result you feel safe and at ease—which is why you keep falling asleep around her. So stop blaming your girlfriend!” She shakes her head like the old soul she is, getting up to clear her tray and leave Luke to his nonsense. You return to the table with a handful of napkins and a grin that instantly brightens his mood.

Rubbing at his eyes, he can see you more clearly and to your surprise, Luke pulls you by the chin for a kiss as he says thank you.

“What’s that for? Can’t be because of the napkins,” you giggle, and a dopey smile crosses his face.

“Because I love you, my dream girl. That’s all.”

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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phillydilly · 8 months

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Sleeping beauty

⊹♡— in which she gets home from a trip and falls asleep on her boyfriends lap

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: just a whole lot of fluff

Waiting for Charles to get home after a race is one of the most exhilarating parts of your days. Hearing the front door opening has you running up to it as fast as you possibly can, jumping on him as soon as you see his face. Screaming his name and greeting him with kisses brings on a different type of joy.

But this time it was different, you had gone on a small trip with your friends to celebrate one of their marriage engagements. Charles had stayed home, as it was an established girls only trip. He had missed you like crazy, not knowing what to do home alone for five days. He was counting down the hours until your plain to Nice arrived, sitting on the sofa twirling his thumbs waiting for exactly 1pm so that he could leave the apartment and drive down to fetch you. In fact, he had planned out the entire day, you were going to get home, he was going to run you a bath, and then take you out to get ice-cream, and then take you on his boat to watch the sunset.

Charles jumped up when he got the notification to make his way to the airport, grabbed his keys, and got into the car. It just took 30 minutes and he was there, flowers in his hand and waiting for you. When he finally saw you, the biggest smile stretched across his face, one that mirrored yours as you ran up to him. As you jumped into his arms and burried your face into the crook of his neck, he could’ve cried at your touch.

“How are you, my love?” You asked him as he set you on back onto your feet. “I’ve missed you” was all he said in reply. You couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss to his lips, letting him know that you missed him back. As you pulled away, he went to grab your suitcase before grabbing your hand with his free one, and pulling you both towards the car, eager to get home.

You both drove back home, the conversation flowing effortlessly as if you had never been apart. Charles listened with rapt attention as you recounted the highlights of your trip, laughing at your stories and teasing you about the adventures you'd had with your friends.

When you finally arrived home, the exhaustion from your journey hit you all at once. You turned to Charles with a soft smile and said, "Can we just sit down for a bit before we start our plans for the day?"

Charles nodded, understanding completely. He led you to the cozy couch in the living room and settled down beside you. As you lay your head on his lap, a contented sigh escaped your lips. The comfort of being back home with him was unparalleled.

Charles couldn't help but gush over how adorable you looked, your eyes fluttering as fatigue overtook you. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered sweet words of affection. Time seemed to slow down as he gently stroked your hair, cherishing this moment of quiet intimacy.

Minutes turned into hours, and you had peacefully drifted off to sleep in his lap. Charles watched you with a heart full of love, grateful for your presence in his life. He decided to let you rest a little longer, knowing that there would be plenty of time for ice cream and sunsets. For now, he simply savored the beauty of the moment, content in the warmth of your love.

Charles sat there, enjoying the serenity of the moment, as the gentle rise and fall of your chest indicated your deep slumber. He couldn't help but reminisce about all the adventures you had shared together, the laughter, and the tears. Each memory seemed more precious in that quiet living room.

As he continued to watch over you, Charles thought about how lucky he was to have you in his life. Your relationship had weathered its fair share of storms, but it had only grown stronger with time. He knew that life could be unpredictable, but having you by his side made everything feel right.

After a while, you began to stir, your eyes slowly fluttering open. You looked up at Charles with a drowsy smile, and he couldn't resist leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. "Hey there, sleeping beauty," he whispered.

You stretched and yawned, feeling refreshed and loved in his presence. "I must've needed that nap more than I thought," you said with a grin. Charles chuckled and replied, "Well, it's a good thing we have all the time in the world for our ice cream and adventures. But for now, how about we just enjoy being right here?" And with that, you both settled back into the couch, savoring the simple joy of being together once again.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc story #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x female reader #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 x you

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

He looks like a dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good," she says. "Feel good?"

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

She smiles more.

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

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

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'"

"I'm so 'mart."

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

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

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

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck.

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

"Love you," she says back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie," she says happily.

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

“June,” he mumbles.

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

“I can feel that,” he says.

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

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

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

She shakes her head. His face lights up.

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

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

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

He shakes his head. "Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here. Lie down."

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

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

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

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

"I'm impossible?"

"You're impossible," he promises.

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

"I can't believe you're real."

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

"Do I look bad?" he asks.

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

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

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

"What, baby?" he asks.

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

"Junie?" he asks.

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce.

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

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

"Mom's dying."

"Eddie."

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

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

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

You glare. "You are not exempt."

"Can I use the bathroom?"

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

"Do you want to go first?"

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

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

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

"Don't know what you mean."

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't serious."

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

She only smiles.

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

"Sorry," you say.

"For what?"

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

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

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging.

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

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

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

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

"Oh, shit," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds clunky in his mouth.

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

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

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

"What? I brushed my teeth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is positive reinforcement."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course not."

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

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

"Do I look stupid?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They did not."

—

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

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

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

"I'm not going to get her pregnant."

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

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

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

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw.

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

Eddie makes himself scoff.

"Yeah, you should've."

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

"You had to get that one in there."

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

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

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

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

"You never did either."

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

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

"I think I can deal with it."

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

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

"She's in the bedroom."

"What for?"

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

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

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

"Eddie?" you ask.

"What?"

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

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

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

"'Course not… Are they working?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do I look? Handsome?"

She tangles her fingers in his hair.

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?"

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

"Duh, but does he like me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He drops his head into yours.

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

"What, today?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im."

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

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

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

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

"You better be helping her."

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

"What time am I expected?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I get some of that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still don't budge.

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

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

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

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

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

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him.

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

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

"Special treats for dinner?"

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

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

"Okay. What's for treats?"

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

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

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

"Hey, bub, look at you!"

"She has something to ask you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh."

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

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

"'This' is killer," Eddie says.

"No, but can you see the bleach?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's fine. You want me to answer?"

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

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

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

—

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

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

He nods. Looking good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I stay over?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone.

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

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

"What? You've never told me that."

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

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

You groan, "No, this is fine."

"Sit on my lap, loser."

"I'm heavy."

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

Your eyes are bright in the lighting.

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

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

You smile at each other.

"I don't know what I did."

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

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

"A past life," he repeats.

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

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

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

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

You lean in for a kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" you ask.

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

Movement. Little feet.

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

You press your arm to his.

"Sorry," you whisper.

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

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

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

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

"Bed?" he asks.

You slouch down. "In a minute?"

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

"Whatever you want."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #mom!reader #eddie munson x mom!reader

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cambion-companion · 8 months

Text

Glimpses (Baldur's Gate 3 x reader)

A collection of x reader snapshots as follows: Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale and Raphael. Part II will have more!

"Careful darling, I bite."

"I don't think most people know what you fully mean by saying that, Astarion." You whispered to the Elven vampire spawn as you made your way to the tavern table, flickering firelight making the bustling atmosphere cozy and warm. "It's hardly an appropriate disclaimer."

Astarion's red eyes flicked over to you, a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. "You sound jealous, my love. Don't be, my fangs are all yours."

"I'm thrilled." You deadpanned, your gaze drifting back to the barmaid Astarion had definitely been flirting with. "Do you chat up everyone or were you just trying to get discounted ale?"

"You are jealous!" Astarion chuckled and you squeaked slightly as he pulled you by the waist to sit next to him. "Now, don't go off in a huff." He leaned in and you smelled his familiar scent of cloves and iron. "

"I'm not going anywhere." Your familiar words caused Astarion to still, his hands softening their teasing grip on your hips.

"Darling..." Astarion murmured. He hesitated and then you felt his soft lips touch your neck, no scrape of his fangs against your skin this time. He buried his nose in your hair, and you heard him inhale deeply.

"Like what you smell?" You teased gently.

"Mmm." Astarion murmured, kissing your neck once more before moved his face away again. "Like wine and death."

Moonlight filtered silver through the latticework windows, turning the stained glass to broken shards of ice against the starry sky. You heard footsteps approaching you, soft upon the deep carpet of the hallway. You turned, your breath catching in your throat as you saw Shadowheart walking to you dressed in a gown that seemed to be made of the shadows themselves, hugging her every curve.

"You look beautiful." You said, the words leaving your lips feeling like they did no justice to how your heart was skipping.

Shadowheart looked uncomfortable, pulling at the edges of the fabric that draped so elegantly over her hips. "I can't remember when I last wore something so impractical." Her green eyes met yours. "But thank you for your sweet candor."

You closed the distance between the two of you and touched her hands, coaxing them away from where she was tugging at the dark dress and pulling her into you. You pressed a kiss to her forehead and brushed your nose against hers, feeling her body begin to relax at the familiar affection.

"We must make our required appearance at this gathering, and then we can slip away." You promised, your hand ghosting up the side of Shadowheart's neck until your fingers tangled in her long thick hair. "Get into something more comfortable."

"Can we indeed?" Her voice lilted, always an edge of playful teasing to her words. "I suppose it'll do."

You pulled her in by the nape of her neck and kissed her plush lips, dragging a small groan from the woman you'd grown to love deeper than the shades of Night Orchid blossoms.

"Now let's go show Faerun how lucky I am to have you at my side."

"She is the most darling little thing I have every laid eyes on." You spoke fervently, but kept your voice soft as you looked down at the winged cat sleeping in your lap.

Gale approached quietly, his smile fond as he looked at the two beings he treasured most in the world. "She's quite taken with you."

"And I with her." You looked up at him and smiled, it was always such a pleasure to hear his voice and share his company.

Gale crouched down beside where you sat with Tara, his hand reached forward and stroked the Tressym's feathers gently and scratched her sleeping head. Tara yawned widely, showing off her sharp white teeth before she tucked her head beneath a wing and went back to sleep.

You pouted a Gale as he continued showering affection his sleeping friend. Gale caught your eye and chuckled. "I'll pet you too, if you ask nicely."

You snorted but your expression softened when you felt Gale tuck his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your face back up to his. He leaned forward and placed a loving kiss on your cheek. He moved his lips to press against the top of your head and lingered there for a moment. "You'll never know how grateful I am for you." His voice was as gentle as Mystra's weave, it carried notes of magic and the promise of safety. "

"I love you too, Gale."

You grumbled in frustration as yet another wooden match broke in your fumbling fingers. "Gods above..." You muttered, yanking another from the box to try again.

"Not quite." A familiar voice said, and you turned to see a well-dressed noble with dark hair and eyes. He gave you a devious smile and clicked his fingers.

A spark of fire, the smell of sulphur, and your campfire burst into flames that quickly took purchase on the sodden logs and warmed your face pleasantly.

"Ah." You grimaced, fighting down the feeling of elation at seeing your favorite cambion. "Raphael...thanks for that."

"You're most welcome." Raphael said dryly as he approached you, glancing over your bedraggled figure. "Did my mouse get caught in the rain?"

You rolled your eyes, smirking at the familiar needling banter between the two of you began. "What does that make you? The cat, making sure its meal is warm and dry?" You grinned at him as he stepped even closer, pushing into your personal space. "A guardian devil as it were."

You felt his hands dig into your waist, the sharpness of his claws growing more apparent as Raphael slowly dropped his human guise. "You should know better by now." He rolled his shoulders, stretching his wings to their full extent, the flames of your campfire dancing wildly in the gust of wind the motion created. Your hand slid up between his shoulder blades, the heady scent of musk and cherries filled your nostrils as you felt his teeth on your neck. The devil's voice sent a vibration to your heart. "The fox, rather...luring you in inch by inch until you belong to me."

#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 #astarion #shadowheart #gale bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #fluff

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greynatomy · 5 months

Text

fringe

leah williamson x reader

thought of this while driving and finished in like two minutes

———

Last week, Leah came home with a different look than when she left in the morning. No heads up, she walks through the front door, a fringe on her head.

Your daughter was fascinated from the moment she saw her mom. When Leah sat on the couch, Bella sat on her lap, hands playing with the fringe. It was a daily thing for your daughter to want to play with her hair.

Today, you have so many errands to run, so Leah was with your daughter by herself. The four-year-old almost threw a tantrum, but with the promise of ice cream, she hesitantly gave you a kiss goodbye.

“Alright. What do you feel like doing?”

Bella strokes her chin in thought. “Watch Tangled.”

“Tangled it is.”

Halfway through the movie, Leah had to go to her office for a meeting with some people leaving Bella all alone. Leah told her to not go anywhere, but the cheeky little thing she is, didn’t listen.

An hour later, Leah finishes what she needed to do for the day and decides to start preparing for lunch. By prepare, she means heating up what you had already made for them.

“Bella, darling? It’s time for lunch.”

She was met with silence, which is worrying because silence is something you don’t want to be greeted with when at home with a toddler.

“Bella! Where’d you go?”

“Bathroom, Mama!”

Walking into the bathroom, Leah was greeted by a haunting sight. Bella stood up on her step stool, a pair of scissors in her hand she found god knows where and a head with less hair than what she had just an hour ago.

“Darling! What’d you do?”

“Want to be like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah! Mama your hair. Be like you!”

She had a proud look on her face and Leah didn’t have the heart to tell her off. As adorable as it was, Leah was just scared of how you’d react once you’d gotten home.

“Okay. Why don’t we put those scissors down and wait for Mama in the living room.”

Leah quickly cleans up all the hair, making sure there’s no trace of what happened. She doesn’t mention it while they eat lunch. Bella frequently brushes the hair out of her face. Leah couldn’t stop looking at her daughter’s hair, seeing all the uneven hair, making her cringe internally.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that you get back home. You find your wife and daughter on the couch, matching Arsenal hoodies on with the hood over their heads.

“Hello, family.”

“Mummy! You’re home!”

“I am, baby. What did you do today?”

“Uh, I watch Tangled with Mama, I eat pasgetti, and I be like Mama!”

You nod along, but look at your wife confusedly at the last part.

“What do you mean by be like Mama?”

Before Leah could stop her, Bella takes the hood off her head. You let out a loud gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, eyes wide.

“Baby.”

“Did all by myself.” She pats her chest.

“So pretty.” You run your fingers through her hair, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. “Go back to your movie. Mummy needs to have a word with Mama in the kitchen.”

You walk into the kitchen with Leah trailing behind.

“How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know! I was in my office for an hour and I go to the bathroom and her hair’s gone!”

You let out some giggles, unable to hold it in anymore, especially with the distressed look on your wife’s face.

“You’re gonna grow some grey hairs and get wrinkles.”

You run your hands through her hair, placing kisses on her forehead, smoothening the crinkles on her forehead.

“It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“I just can’t believe she did that.”

“Daughter like mother. You come home with a fringe without telling me. Bella does the same without telling you.”

She starts laughing, looking at where your daughter sat on the couch, arms wrapped around your waist.

“She really is my mini me.”

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader

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ahhhwomen · 17 days

Text

You can say no?

Vampire Empire

Part 6

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is not my best-written chapter I won't lie, but it will still hurt if you are looking for a little angst fix... Yeah no, this hurt a little... I won't lie. Also, peep the tags, I had to make a change for this one...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, alluded rape/non-con Minors DNI 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist

Your hands weave through cold water, their damaged nerves trying desperately to hold on to something, anything. Waving against unfamiliar territory, you paddle and struggle against heavy waves, they push and pull, and you heave for breath between the swishing walls.

The water is chilling and gloomy.

The expansion of the ocean, vast, and intimidating.

You never realized it until now, with your feet kicking and struggling against the currents, but-

you don’t know how to swim.

There was a woman, long before Master entered the picture.

She was the only one to take an incline of pity on your small shaking frame as she dished out the punishment for eating before you were given permission.

Your chest struggles against the hammering of your heavy heart as the older woman looms over your small frame, sitting in the chilled freezer, your hands clamber around the rough wool sweater she instructed you to put on.

“Here.” Her voice is estranged and lost within time, but you remember the way she would hand you a little flashlight and a painting she had observed your eyes drift toward while you stayed with her.

Even at your young age, there had been something about that painting that drew you to it. The delicate brush strokes were perfected over time. You could almost see the progress of the artist within their work. Some lines were thicker, and rougher, as if they were made with an inexperienced hand. Yet, toward the end, the last final touches among the petals were as beautiful as could be.

The first painting she ever brought inside the cold metal box was your favorite. It helped fend away the thoughts of your stiff, shaking body, inside the locked freezer.

It was a field of sunflowers.

You claw against gruff hands as he holds you under the freezing water.

The cold hits you and you can’t help but try and gasp for air, the only reward you're given is water forcing its way into your lungs and dragging you down even lower.

Your vision darkens and you know.

There is nothing you can do.

As you squint up at the man, the water obscures the view, it morphs and moves, and his blond hair almost reminds you of the sun.

Your airways close as his hands tighten, despite the ice-cold water, blood pools inside your head, heating you up from the inside out, as your body numbs.

His horrid vanilla perfume penetrates your senses much like the chilling liquid that surrounds you.

You never tasted vanilla before… this may be the closest you will ever be to it.

In a blurry of delusion and hallucination, you dream of the beach. With the real sun, instead of his blond hair, peaking over the horizon.

And as you lose conciseness you picture a warming light and delicious ice cream with real vanilla.

The forceful grip of chill has been both a friend and a foe over the years. When you woke up that morning, you didn’t think it would be different from any other day. And you didn’t really care, even if it was.

On one side, the cold numbs you and lessens your senses until you can’t feel the burning pain of a harsh hand or even harsher canines.

Yet, on the other hand, with the lack of mobility, you can’t protect yourself. It’s not like you ever had much of a chance against your masters, to begin with, but that one night.

You curl into yourself, your muscles are weak and tired, but you try to hide from the outlash of thoughts and memories.

If you weren’t so damned cold, maybe it would’ve played out differently.

Maybe you could have spoken up before she had them remove that ability altogether.

“HOW DARE YOU!” You whine and turn as two hot weights settle you back in place. Something strokes your side in a gentle up-and-down motion as searing flashes of the past bombard your senses.

“YOU ARE A PET!” Army boots are the only thing you can focus on as she forces you down to your knees in the snow.

Your leash is wrapped around one of the boots, the weak material fraying around the edges as her heels dig into the ground and force you even lower. With your face flush with the dead grass that is layered with frozen water, she stares you down.

“YOU ARE A SLAVE!”

The last leverage of your knees is quickly kicked out from under you, and you fall with a heavy thud. Your eyes force themselves closed as the snow invades your nervous system.

“YOU DON’T GET TO SAY NO TO ME!” The harsh breathing of the older woman is slurred and hissed. Which is how you know her sharper teeth are out.

Your eyelids slowly peel open, and with a determined turn of your head, you stare up at her in wonder. What did you do?

“DID YOU TELL HER NO WHEN SHE DID THIS TO YOU, HUH!?”

Did you tell her no?

You can say no?

Before the vision can continue, you startle as soft whispers sneak past your eardrums. The words are hard to make out between the intense tone of the blond woman and the horrid chill of the surroundings.

You can only make out parts as the gentle strokes return to your side. A warmth, unfamiliar to you, presses itself closer to you as you can feel their grip tighten against your flailing body.

“Hush, it’s okay…”

Is it?

“You’re okay baby.”

You?

You are, okay…?

Aren’t you drowning…?

Yeah.

You are drowning.

“Shit, she’s getting worse.” Wanda curses under her breath as she closes the distance between the two of you even more, even going so far as to pull Natasha closer by the arm wrapped around your midsection.

Both she and the other redhead lay on their plush carpet in nothing but underwear as they clutch you close while the fireplace burns and crackles to the left of you.

After Natasha had carried you into their home, earlier that day, the vamped-out redhead had quickly ordered her wife to strip down, her voice harsh yet monotone. At the time, Wanda had been riddled with confusion, Natasha had never spoken to her in such a manner before, much less with a demand like that.

The way her words had drawled over each syllable, the air hissed against prominent canines as her tongue clicked at the roof of her mouth. It oozed authority, a clear disrespect toward the older vampire.

There are ranks within the vampire world and rules to follow such ranks. Wanda was the Wanda Maximoff, clan leader of the Maximoff clan. As far as the vamp rule applied, Wanda was at the top of the food chain.

Natasha is strong, always has been, but if she were ever put up against the command of a clan leader her free will would cease to exist. Of course, the powerful redhead would never do such a thing to her wife, but that didn’t mean a vampire´s rage was something that could be stopped.

And Wanda should be angry, she should be outright offended that a lesser vampire would ever speak to her in such a manner. Had Natasha been someone else, Wanda would’ve ripped her head off already.

Yet here they were.

Natasha laid you down gently in front of the fireplace, her hands were already moving to start the fire before she could register what she was doing. Strong, orange, flames licked her upper body as the wood caught ablaze. The heat sizzled and the wood groaned. Previous charcoal that had laid forgotten on the ashpan glowed and flourished with the newfound heat.

Then much like she expected Wanda to do, she stripped down to her underwear. It’s as if she couldn’t get the clothes off fast enough, with every glide of expensive fabric that loosened and fell, she just became more irritated. She doesn’t know how long you have been like this, but the window for action was closing by the minute.

The scent of blood from your scratched elbow drifted through the mansion, yet it was the last thing on the redheads’ minds.

Crawling over to the couch Natasha pulled down every blanket she could get her hands on, and in a jiffy, she was back at your side.

Wrapping you both up like a burrito as she buried herself under the blankets with you.

An audible hiss could be heard as Natasha first laid her front flat against your bare back. Your skin could rival a piece of paper for the bleakness. But it wasn’t just that, you were beyond cold. If Natasha didn’t know any better, she would think you were a corpse.

The thought made her shudder, in a moment of need for a distraction, her eyes started their journey toward a hotheaded redhead.

Natasha knew the significance of demanding anything from her wife, to be frank, it had just slipped, and as her eyes connected with her lovers, she was expecting to see anger flaring within them.

Instead, when her eyes disconnect from where they had been staring at your greasy hair, they glance up to see Wanda stripped down and standing protectively over the both of you.

So, after being let into your little burrito, they both wrapped themselves around you and waited with bated breath.

There was an unspoken understanding amongst them. You were special, whether they wanted to believe it or not.

Close to an hour later, you started whining in your fever-induced sleep.

It all went downhill from there.

(On the other side of the city)

Carol huffs as yet another problem arises, she could never get any peace.

Walking out she can finally breathe as the cold city air flows into her. Her lungs expand and contract as her eyes slip closed for a second. If she wasn’t so fucking angry, she may have enjoyed the silence that hung in the crisp air.

Pulling her phone out she goes to check your location, she hadn’t planned to run off like that, but one of the idiot goons had started trouble with another clan. If she hadn’t stopped it then and there, they were all as good as dead. It had been an ally of the Maximoff clan after all.

“Urgh” pinching her eyebrows Carol groans in frustration. She is going to get an earful from Thor once she gets back to work.

If her mood wasn’t sour before, it most definitely was now.

She was only half-heartedly checking your tracker, too busy wallowing in self-pity, that is until she saw the house, or more like a mansion, where your collar now resides.

Glass shatters, small pieces of melted sand, scattering and clinking as a mastered craft meets asphalt.

She is going to kill you.

Taglist:

@thinking1bee @tobiaslut @esmeseasle @skittlebum @tia-thesimp @maximilfsworld @leenasayeed @scarlethexelove @itsalwaysskorpioszn @observeowl @tekanparadiae @alexawynters @adelareys @anqyuicka @ichala @thalia-is-not-ok @lovelyy-moonlight @wandamaximoff-simp @opossumking03 @confidant-thoughts @delivery-bird @esouliie @geydumbbetch @dorabledewdroop @mousetheorist @herwagonempathkid @mommysfavouritegirl @auroraromaximoff @roman0ffsheart @morganna-la-faye @kaosrsing @marvelwomenarehot0 @lizzieswife101 @og-kxsh-420 @chibilauren @sgm616 @cyber-juipter @falloutboy-lover @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @likefirenrain @cole2907 @rahhhha @taliiiaasteria @mommysfavouritegirl @dehydratedcoffeeaddict @viktoriaromanovaa @julz2000

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat #vampire empire

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Note

Hii, just wanna say luv your stories. I hope u can do a series if ever. I wanna suggest like aonung x fem reader. Like she is so super kind and pure like the opposite of the typical strong and gangster vibe. Its like she melt aonung heart with her kind words and pure actions, like innocent vibe. Any way, hope u can consider this hehe

Melt For You

summary: you were a pure soul, a kind heart that brought happiness to all of the metkayina, including the tough son ao'nung

1k words, fem!metkayina reader

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

The entire village knew you as kind. A pure hearted girl whose joy filtrated through the entire village. Your smile made others smile. You sparked happiness within everyone’s heart.

Your heart-warming presence had its effect on everyone. Even the harsh son of the chief Tonowari. Ao’nung couldn’t deny that his lips slightly curved seeing your bright smile. Or the way his chest would flutter seeing you walk by and wave.

It made him melt, you made him melt. Like ice cream on a hot day dripping onto the pavement melt. If you and the stars were next to each other you’d be shining brighter. If there was a shooting star in the sky he’d still rather stare into the galaxies in your eyes.

He was laying on a hammock just outside where his family rested. The light breeze rocked him side to side lulling him to sleep. The warm sun shining on him filled his body with warmth. It was a time he felt truly calm.

You came up beside him, slightly bouncing on the tightly pulled fabric that formed a path over the sand. Resting a soft hand on his shoulder to not scare him too much.

“Ao’nung.” Your voice was gentle in his ear, like a perfect song he’d listen to for eternity.

His eyes immediately went to your crouched figure next to him. Your skin shimmered in the sun, and your hair softly blew in the wind. You were like a portrait, framed in the museum of his mind, each stroke of a brush created your beauty.

“Hi Y/N.” His voice was croaky, a tired morning voice, not yet ready to be spoken to the world.

“Would you like to come make some baskets with me?” His heart fluttered when you offered. The thought of you thinking of him made him feel like his heart grew wings and was ready to fly away.

“Of course, I would.” Getting off the comfort of the soft hammock he followed your enthusiastic figure down to near the shore.

You had laid out multiple piles of leaves to be handwoven into intricate baskets to hold anything from tiny trinkets to the produce of a successful hunt. He watched you take a seat on the warm sand and followed suit.

He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you told him to. Your smile was intoxicating to him, your being was like an addictive substance he would never let go of.

He watched your fingers intricately weave with the leaves with such ease. You made everything just look so graceful, so perfect.

“Ao’nung you’ve barely started, do you need help?” The tenderness of your voice rung in his ears. It would’ve made him shudder, but he had at least a little presence of self-control.

“I don’t weave, I am a hunter Y/N. So yes… I would like some help.” His voice grew small at the end making you chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

If he were a man before this statement no one would have ever known. Because he now felt like a puddle of mush on the sand to be washed away by the high tide.

He stammered a couple times before being able to get a retort back. “I’d hoped to be handsome.” Batting his eyelids in a joking way to cover the fact that his heart sounded like a drum.

“Fine, you can be handsome then.”

Ao’nung’s brain might have malfunctioned. The cogs of his brain stopped working and his hands froze looking up to you giggling figure. How could you think he was handsome when you were beauty itself.

“I need help with the basket Y/N.” Stern wasn’t exactly what his voice sounded like, but it was what he was going for.

“Oh yes. That’s right.” Grabbing his fingers softly you started to guide his hands in the detailed pattern. You watched him get continuously flustered as he gulped harshly whenever your hands would reposition themselves on his.

He was a mess in your touch. If he were to be a candle you’d be his flame. Flickering in the breeze slowly heating him up and melting him with your warmth.

“Y/N.” His voice was gruff, like he had been holding back his voice for a millennium.

“Are you understanding this pattern? You don’t seem to be listening.” A smile grew on your face as Ao’nung’s eyes tried to avoid anywhere but yours. He couldn’t meet them just yet. Not while his thoughts brewed in his mind that was filled of you.

“Y/N… I can’t focus on the basket. I can’t focus on anything right now.” Desperation echoed through his voice as looked up into your curious eyes. Your head tilted slightly waiting for him to continue explaining.

“I can only focus on you.”

Eyes wide you smiled at him. You weren’t oblivious to his feelings, and you hoped he wasn’t oblivious to yours. I mean who wouldn’t fall in love with the man. He was handsome, strong, funny and only a little daft.

“Then focus on me.” You tilted your head forward to get closer to his face. The proximity making the air between the two thick and filled with tension. Loving tension, tension that had been held back for years.

Ao’nung under his tough exterior and harsh nature was still a soft boy at heart. And you had cracked his shell.

The tension was sharp enough to cut with a knife, but no knife was needed as he softly put his lips to yours. Slowly kissing you, his eyes shut tight as his hands travelled to hold your cheeks.

This was ecstasy to him. Pure bliss. He was in a state of euphoria feeling you touch on him so delicately.

The way your lips melded together perfectly made your heart flutter as you hung your hands around his neck. You heart pounded in your chest and you kissed deeper to try and silence it.

Breaking away his lips were slightly swollen, licking the bottom lip in disbelief that he had kissed you. You had enchanted him completely and he was ready to be bewitched by you till the very end.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: hope you enjoyed this! and thankq sm for all the love every like reblog and comment i'm so grateful!

(i love your comments i'm kicking my feet reading them)

#ao'nung oneshot #ao'nung x reader #aonung #aonung xreader #aonung x you #avatar the way of water #avatar oneshot #ao'nung fic #ao'nung fluff #avatar #ao'nung #avatar x reader #atwow

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mikkomacko · 22 days

Text

Dad!Nico x Reader

A/n: For all my Devs fans that need some soft thoughts tonight 🫶

————————————————————

Thinking about Jersey Leeds Nico coming home from the game tonight all head hung low and droopy eyes.

Jersey is already asleep, the two of you having left the arena early tonight in order to keep her sleep schedule going smoothly.

Nico finds you in the bedroom, dragging his feet until he’s in the doorway and you look up from where you’re doing laundry on the bed to his sad pleading eyes watching you.

“Oh come here my darling,” you coo, immediately holding out your arms for him. Nico curls into you, lets you hold him as he just sags under the weight of the season. You coax him into the bathroom, peeling him out of his suit and shoes with tender fingers before running him a bath.

Nico pouts as he lays in the warm water, feeling pathetic with you sitting on the tile floor beside the tub. Stroking through his over grown hair, you don’t push him to speak and instead allow him to wallow and sink into that empty feeling in his tummy.

A moment passes, the baby monitor on the counter crackles and Nico glances over at it with wet eyes.

“She’s fine,” you assure him, but he knows that. Jersey’s developing the habit of babbling in her sleep and it always disturbs the monitor.

“I’m sad,” Nico finally mumbles. “Wanted a cup for the team, for her, for you . . . M’just pouting in a bathtub now.”

You don’t say anything, just let him speak. By the way his gaze has unfocused you know he’s just venting his thoughts, the things he couldn’t say to media today.

“Last year was the best year of my life. We were good, I was playing and feeling good. Jersey, god don’t get me started on Jersey. She deserves so much better-“

Frowning, you cup his jaw and make him look at you. “Jersey loves her daddy,” you insist “she’s so proud of you and loves watching you play. There’s always set backs Nico, always mistakes and failures, but you have not failed at being an amazing father to our daughter.”

Blinking softly, Nico sniffles and nods, pressing into your palm. “I want to see her,” he tells you “but I don’t want to wake her.”

Shrugging, you get up and motion for him to get out of the tub. You wrap him up in a towel, draining the water while he dries off and slips on some boxers and shorts.

Then, on careful tiptoes you sneak into the nursery where Jersey’s little snores are filling the air. The ballerina nightlight casts silhouettes of dancers and bows on the roof and walls, bathes the room in a peaceful glow.

Nico sneaks up beside her crib, grips the side of it in his hands and peers down at her. You press into his side, an arm around him to rub up and down his bare back.

Jersey is sleeping peacefully, thick eyelashes brushing her cherub cheeks and her lips quiver as she coos little noises to herself.

“That’s your fault,” you whisper fondly “all those bedtime nonsense stories when she was in my belly and now she can’t sleep without talking.”

That empty part in him shrinks, fills up with the love swelling in his heart. Everyday she gets bigger and bigger, and with that his adoration and devotion to being her father grows with it.

A year later and she’s his proudest accomplishment. And he thinks that no amount of Stanley Cups, goals, medals or playoffs appearances can ever top that.

Nico Hischier didn’t win on the ice this season, but he won at everything else.

#jersey Leeds #girl dad Nico #nico hischier #new jersey devils #nhl #nj devils #fluff #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier blurb

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hellcat8908 · 3 months

Text

Nightmare Rhysand x Female Reader

Warnings: fluff, a little mention of torture, nothing graphic

You settled into bed after changing into pajamas. You heard the door open before hearing Rhys's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He gave you a quick kiss as a greeting before making his way into the bathroom. You knew he'd had a rough day, so you grabbed him an ice water and some fruit. You'd be lucky if you got him to eat at all. You climbed back in bed and just got comfortable when you heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later, Rhys came back into the bedroom wearing knit pants and no shirt.

He climbed into bed and laid between your legs with his head resting on your stomach. You started running your fingers through his wet hair, careful not to pull it. "Do you want to talk about it?" You ask softly. He mumbles something you don't quite catch. "What was that, baby?" You ask. He grumbles, "No." Your hands slip down his shoulders and back, gently massaging them. His tense muscles relax under your touch as you ease his stress.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close. You can't help but smile. He settles in further, relaxing his whole body. You continue to massage his back, tracing his muscles as you watch him. Whatever happened while he was away must've been bad. You decide not to dwell on it as you run your fingers back to his hair. You gently start stroking his hair and watch as his eyes start to drift closed. You continue playing with his hair and watching him fall asleep. You can't help but notice how different he looks.

He seems so small and vulnerable holding you like that. You can't help the urge to protect him as he rests. You listen to his steady breathing as it lulls you to sleep. You're awoken a while later to Rhys flinching and muttering in his sleep. You gently stroke his hair, "Rhys, babe. Wake up." He mumbles incoherently and struggles some more. "Babe, wake up." You say louder, gently shaking him. He startles awake. "Easy, babe. You're safe. It was just a nightmare." You say gently, encouraging him to lay back down. He settles back down and holds you tighter, seeking comfort. You gently stroke his hair, brushing it away from his face.

"I was under the mountain," he starts slowly, "and this time you were there with me." You lay there and listen as Rhys tells you about his nightmare. "I was being punished by Amarantha. I had been poisoned with faebane and unable to use any of my powers. She started torturing you, knowing I couldn't shield you from the pain." He had told you how he'd protect innocent fae by manipulating their minds. You still didn't speak, allowing him to process his nightmare as well as his feelings. "Your screams sounded so real as she had you whipped and beaten. Her laughter was sickening as she watched me break." He says as his grip holds you tighter. His eyes shut tight, trying to remind himself that you're both safe.

You tilt his head so he's looking at you, "it was just a nightmare. We're both safe and sound in Velaris. Amarantha is dead. She can't hurt anyone anymore." You say softly, trying to reassure him and comfort him. "I know, darling, but it seemed so real." He says, sounding embarrassed. "I know, love." You say gently as your fingers stroke his hair. He gently takes your hand in his and pulls it to his lips, gently kissing it before letting you run it through his hair again. "I love you." You tell him softly. "I love you too." He says as he settles back down. You slowly feel his body relaxing as you both try to go back to sleep.

#acotar #batboys #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #hurt/comfort #rhysand #rhysand acotar

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ghouljams · 10 months

Text

Cowboy!Ghost tries to figure out how to act around the only woman he’s ever fallen in love with when she’s off limits to him. This is very early days in their relationship. I’m talking right after they get caught by Price.

Ghost is working very hard to scare you off, and it’s kind of working. When your Dad finally properly introduces you two he looks at you with eyes like ice. All the warmth of him gone and replaced with a dead man. He doesn’t say one word to you, simply stares you down until you drop your offered hand and go back to your chores.

He doesn’t say anything to you the rest of the day, he’s singularly focused on his work each time you see him. It’s like you don’t even exist to him. Maybe that’s for the best, but it makes your heart clench. He looks… lonely. The only thing he shows any kindness to is the animals. Stroking his horse’s neck as he waits for the cattle to file past him, gently nudging chickens out of the way with his foot, he even gives the pigs an affectionate pat on the back when he walks past their paddock. He has none of the same affections for you, even though 12 hours ago you would’ve said he was one of the most attentive men you’d ever met. Ghost brushes past you to put his tack away and you almost feel the chill of it.

“Your billet strap is too loose,” You tell him, because it’s been bothering you all day. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at you. “That’s why you’re slidin’ around in the saddle, Dolly’s a sweet horse but she’ll buck if you keep agitatin’ her.” He pauses, and nods once, quick, barely there. You nod back, satisfied that your horse is taken care of.

It’s the same thing the next day. The cold shoulder, the glare from under the shadow of his hat, the silence. You’d almost forget the way he’d held your face in the dark to kiss you. You press your hands against the kitchen counter, shoulders hunched and angry. Not with him. You get it, he’s a military man of course he’d obey his captain’s orders. This is exactly why you told yourself you’d never get involved with a military man. There was always going to be someone, something, more important than you to them. You love your Daddy, you really do, but…

But he hardly knows when to stop working. That’s why you’re making him something for lunch, because it’s what Momma would do if she was here. You swear at yourself and grab an extra couple slices of bread.

Your whistle reaches him all the way across the pasture. Dolly’s head jerks in your direction, her ears twitching as the dog goes zipping past her feet. Ghost checks his watch, it’s not quitting time yet. He looks around for Price and sees him doing the same thing before directing his horse back towards the pasture fence. He waits, half watching as Price chats with you, his eyes following the meandering cows as they enjoy the sun. It’s so quiet. It sets his nerves on edge.

“Ghost!” Price’s voice bellows over the grass. Ghost pulls his full attention to him, watches him wave an arm to signal him over. He clicks his tongue, knocks his heels against Dolly’s sides to get her moving.

You’re standing on the lowest rung of the fence, precariously balanced, one hand on the nearest post with a smile. You hold a paper wrapped bundle out to him, the added height of the fence letting you hold it directly to his hands. “Lunch,” You tell him plainly, “Momma’d be mad if I let y’all work through it.”

He takes the offering from your hand and watches you hop off the fence. You click your tongue and Dolly moves, letting her reach through the fence to tighten one of the straps on the saddle. Ghost’s heart clenches in his chest. Why would a drop of sunshine like you even spare him a thought? Why do you care? You meet his eyes with a smile and he looks away quickly, past Price towards the field.

“Thanks,” He tells you low and rough, like he doesn’t want to.

“Any time.”

You do your best to try and distance the dark and silent man that works on the farm from the man that you spent the night with. Ghost seems to have had no trouble with it, and you’ll be damned if a man is better than you at anything. You treat him like any other farm hand your dad’s hired, you’re friendly and chatty even when you’re met with a brick wall. You hate it.

Your thoughts are full of his hands, his voice, his eyes, a mouth you only felt. You are maddeningly haunted by this man, and he just… doesn’t care. Treats you like a fly on shit. The only kind word you get is the pained thanks when you hand him lunch. As if being nice to you is such a fucking challenge. And his fucking billet strap! He still can’t get it tight enough, it’s driving you crazy that you have to keep fixing it. It’s one fucking thing!

“You’re too friendly,” Ghost tells you. You glance over your shoulder at him.

“Am I supposed to be mean?” You don’t really want to do that, it’s not exactly your wheelhouse, “Daddy isn’t going to fire you just because I’m friendly.”

“You think that’s the issue?” He asks, eyes heavy on you. You make a face.

“What other issue would there be?”

“You’re-” He cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. If you would just-”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a drama queen, Si-”

Ghost’s hands grip your shoulders as he slams you against the side of the barn. “You don’t call me that,” He snarls, eyes so hot with anger it scares you, “Be a good little girl and leave me the hell alone.”

Your chest clenches tight, and you feel your hands starting to shake with anxiety. He hasn’t said more than two words to you in a week and this is what he’s been thinking? You take a breath and fix your face, giving his own anger back to him. That seems to loosen some of the tension in his shoulders at least. His eyes linger on your lips, you can hear him breathing, see the conflict in his eyes. There’s a long quiet moment, while you’re standing held against the wall where you think he might kiss you.

“Ghost,” You try, watching his breath catch, his eyes dart to yours and he lets you go, pulling away like you’ve burned him.

“Listen to your father when he tells you a man is dangerous.” He tells you, eyes cold once more. You nod, sliding against the wall of the barn. Your legs feel like they’re made of jelly. He doesn’t look back at you when he leaves.

#Goose immediately goes back to the house to stress bake #Price knows something's wrong but can't pry it out of her #She calls Soap to complain about Ghost being a jackass and he's like 'what did you expect? flowers?'#Soap: he's not that bad #Goose: he is that bad #Soap: did you do something to make him mad?#Goose: no comment #oc: goose #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #reader x ghost #cod x reader

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creative-caramel-coffee · 11 months

Text

Delirium Days

Pairings: Wandanat x (eventually) R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Wanda and Nat had wanted you to join their relationship from the beginning. But when you fall sick they can’t help but to care for you and make their feelings known.

TW: Delirium (idk if that’s a warning or not lol), one swear word

A/N Not edited.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you felt someone had replaced all the blood in your body with concrete. Your limbs hurt and they were hard to move. Your head felt like it was full of rocks and was just as heavy too. Stumbling to the bathroom, you splashed some water on your face. Of course you would wake up sick. Throwing on some makeup and taking a Panadol to stop in ache in your bones and head, you trudged downstairs looking slightly more presentable.

“Morning Y/n/n” Wanda called from where she was making pancakes. Upon hearing this Nat also looked up from where she was drowning a stack in maple syrup and ice-cream. Nat loved sweet foods.

“Morning detka.” Nat called, eyes returning to them tower.

Trying your best to keep your voice steady you bid them good morning and took a seat. Luckily they seemed to buy it. You must have zoned out because a second later Wanda was laying your own stack of pancakes in front of you and Nat looked like she was waiting for an answer to something.

“Sorry. Could you repeat the question.” You mumbled. Nat frowned and Wanda looked at you closely, making you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I asked if you wanted toppings?” She said unsurely.

“Are you feeling ok?” Wanda asked, going to lay a hand on your cheek. You dodged, putting on a weak smile.

“Just tried. I need some coffee.” You said, voice husky. You played it off as the lasting effects of sleep and got up despite your body’s protests to get coffee.

When you returned to the table, the world tilted for a second making you stumble slightly as you sat back down.

“Honey? Do you want to go back to bed?” Wanda asked, Nat eyed you closely.

Your body screamed at you to say yes but you simply shook your head. Not helping with the dizziness. You put your head down on the table. Too tired to conjure anymore of a charade for the couple. Wanda and Nat had been dating long before you joined the team. And as much as you loved both women, you didn’t want to spoil their love for each other. So you were happy to watch from afar, the twinge in your heart becoming a constant ache.

“Love?” Nat asked.

“Yeah?” You grumbled.

“She asked if you wanted anything?” Wanda frowned. Leaning forward, she brushed a hand over your head, pausing before laying the back of her hand on your forehead.

“Nat, she’s quite warm.” Wanda shot a concerned look at the other girl, who came around to feel for herself.

Upon laying her hand on your flushed cheek, Nat hissed. Her hand taking the makeup off your cheek to reveal a pink flush to your skin.

“Shes more than a little warm.” Nat agreed

“Friday?” Wanda asked, reappearing with a wash cloth to remove the makeup. She crouched down in front of you. Gently she wiped off all the concealer and set the cloth down again.

“Yes Ms. Maximoff” the AI replied

“What is Y/n’s temperature?”

“Y/n appears to be running a fever of 102.8” Friday responded.

“Shit.” Nat swore, receiving a playful slap from Wanda on the arm.

Scooping you up, Nat carried you back to Wanda and her shared room. Wanda trailed behind.

Waking up slightly, to find yourself in Nat’s strong arms, your head felt fuzzy.

“Natty?” You asked voice sounding high and slurred. Wanda shot Nat a look at the nickname.

“Yes love?” Nat cooed.

“Can you turn the sun down please.” You huffed burying your head in her armpit. She thanked god she had put on more deodorant after training.

Wanda chuckled slightly at Nat’s thoughts, receiving a glare from the redhead in question.

“Bit delirious there sweetheart?” Wanda cooed. Stroking back your hair as Nat laid you on their bed.

“‘M not your sweetheart.” You mumbled making both girls freeze. You had never denied their names for you in the past. And they knew your fever was making you say things, but curiosity won out in the end.

“No?” Nat asked.

“ B’t I wanna be.” You smiled snuggling into Wanda’s side as she ran her hands through your hair. “One day.” You grinned.

Nat retuned a moment later with two cold wash cloths. Placing one on the back of your neck and handing Wanda another for your forehead. You wined at the coldness and Wanda shushed you, pulling you in flush to her side. Your eyes fought to stay open.

“It’s alright sweetheart, close those pretty eyes for us now.” Wanda cooed.

You feel asleep to Wanda’s nails on your scalp and Nat tracing patterns between your shoulder blades.

Next time you woke up your fever had broken and both girls were asleep beside you. Your memories were fuzzy and as your words came back to you, you shot up in bed. Accidentally waking both girls in the process.

“What’s wrong detka?” Nat asked, shooting a worried look at Wanda who laid a hand on your cheek. Blushing you stuttered out an apology.

“Now. Now. There’s no need for that sweetheart. We were happy to help.” Wanda hushed.

You flopped back onto the bed. Freezing when you felt a soft pair of lips on yours.

“Sorry.” Nat grinned sheepishly. “Couldn’t help it, your so cute when you pout.”

“‘S ok” you smiled. “I kinda liked it.”

“Then maybe I can have a turn.” Wanda grinned, pulling you into her for another kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted like honey.

Realising what was happening you panicked. “Im sorry. Im so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your relationship. Im tired and sick and I let my emotions get out of check. And-“

“Its ok.” Wanda shushed, cutting off your rambling.

“We have wanted to do that for a long time.” Nat agreed.

“Don’t think we haven’t notice you watching us.” Wanda smiled slyly.

Of course they noticed. One was a mind reader and the other a trained spy. You groaned, making both girls giggle.

“If you don’t mind we would love for you to join our little relationship.” Nat smiled, brushing the hair from your eyes. Wanda smiled at the blush that rose to your cheeks.

“Ok.” You mumbled quietly. Wanda contained a squeal at your cuteness. Both girl laid either side of you pulling your body into theirs as Wanda coaxed you back to sleep. When your eyes were finally shut, Nat whispered to Wanda.

“Can we keep her?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever be letting her go.” Wanda smiled sweetly down at your sleeping form.

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luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | two

Finding out you're a princess isn't half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can't seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au (sort of), all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance james isn't flirty this chapter i lied but he will be <3

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Sirius Black smells like winter. The deep and fruity fragrance of cranberries, pomegranate, maybe cinnamon. You aren't certain, and if he weren't currently an inch from your face, you'd ask him what it is.

"You poor thing," he murmurs, dabbing very, very gently against the bruised skin of your cheek.

"It's not–" You hiss at sudden pressure. He immediately recedes. "It's not so bad."

"I've half a mind to rag him around and take up the mantle myself."

"I'd love to see that," Remus says.

"I'd look good in the uniform, right?"

James doesn't look happy at their joking but he's been nothing less than a grovelling puppy since last night, and he breaks his silence to say, "You don't have to wear any make-up if it's going to hurt."

"Uh, yes she does. Imagine the headlines otherwise: Lost Princess Bruised Under the Imbecilic Watch of New Bodyguard," Sirius announces, sharing a not-so-private smile with Remus across the coffee table.

"It doesn't hurt," you say to James.

You're lying. Being smacked in the face with a door isn't just embarrassing, it really fucking hurts. James' biceps aren't for show, that's for sure. He'd swung open the door and you, having tripped seconds beforehand over the cord of your lamp, had been at the perfect height for it to bounce off the highest point of your cheek.

"Princess," he says now, as he'd said last night, "I'm so sorry."

You think of his hands under your arms pulling you up into a standing position, and the way he'd tilted your head back. The barking order he'd given Frank to grab something to use as an ice pack, and the warmth of the pad of his thumb as it stroked the soft line of your jaw.

"It was a freak accident." You smile, careful not to push up your cheeks lest you invite another round of shooting pains. "Please don't feel bad. It's my fault for being up in the first place, I– I couldn't sleep."

"If you want anything for it, let me know," Remus says.

"He's got, like, his own personal pain pharmacy," Sirius says. "You should take him up on it. I beg him everytime we fly for some of the strong stuff and he always says no, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Let's not start on the co-codamols," James says.

"I have ibuprofen," Remus placates.

"I don't need anything, I promise."

Some ibuprofen would be awesome but you really don't want James to feel guilty. You want to forget it even happened, embarrassed by both your idiocy and your tears.

Getting hit in the face by a metal door handle hurts. Your reaction had been justified, but crying all over your handsome bodyguards nice hands hadn't been something you'd pictured doing. Not 12 hours after meeting him.

"You want me to do your lips?" Sirius asks.

"How do you mean?"

Sirius pulls a metal palette of lip colours out of his small make up bag and shows them to you. He circles two with a disposable brush. "These would suit you. I wasn't sure about your complexion. Now I know, I'll get you more options when we're back in Genovia."

"Oh, um…" You shake your head at him apologetically. "I don't know. You should do what you think is best."

He puts the palette away. "You don't need anything you're unsure of. You don't need any makeup at all, my love, it only enhances what's already there."

"Ten minutes," James says. "Princess, are you sure this is everything you want to take?"

He taps your suitcase with the side of his shoe. You nod.

"You can bring whatever you want. All of your things, if you like." He gestures to your bedroom. "Though we can get you anything you need, and we will, you're welcome to pack everything."

"In a day, you'll know I'm not your princess. Less stuff to carry," you say.

"You're so sure," Remus says.

He speaks quietly but not timidly, laid back in your chair with an air of relaxation you wish you could master. He has a small mass market paperback tucked into one pocket of his jacket, the yellowed pages peeking over the hem, and his hand stuffed into the other. His pose doesn't speak of any arrogance. He looks happy to be here, and it puts you at ease.

"Do I look like a princess?" you ask. You don't mean to put anyone on the spot —you aren't fishing for compliments— so you steamroll your own question. "I just find it strange. Surely I'd know. I would've known before, I mean."

"Like a princess beacon?" Sirius asks.

"No, but… I don't know. I think I'd feel it."

Remus straightens a touch, grinning. "You look like him. The Prince. You have the same nose."

Remus stands up before you can ask him to explain. James offers to take his bag and he shrugs away from his big hand with an annoyed huff.

To your surprise, James only smiles, cooing after him, "You know you love me, Moons."

"Well," Sirius says, zipping his bag closed and clasping his hands on top of it. "You can always have your things sent for once we're home."

Home for them.

Truthfully, deep down, you want to be a princess. Something in you is singing, is ringing, a string plucked, a tuner reverberating. Finally, something is happening. Your life could be more than mistakes.

You're not used to having people around and this entire process has been hard. Getting hit in the face had sucked. But, to have company? This single hour has been one of the best you've had in a really long time. Sirius is sweeter than you'd thought, sarcastic but kind-handed, and Remus' dry humour has caught you off guard enough to laugh aloud multiple times. Even James' grovelling niceties have been shamefully enjoyable. You can't remember the last time you had someone around who wanted to comfort you.

And that's exactly why you're afraid to admit what seems true. You can't be the Princess, because if you are, you get to have this for a little while longer, and that would be too good to be true.

Much, much too good.

"Alright, let's go. Sirius, you have the keys?"

Sirius swings his bag into James’ arms. “Am I driving?”

“What a stupid question.”

Another member of James’ security team meets you at your front door to help carry the bags downstairs and into the back of the SUV. James won’t allow you to help and getting inside while they’re still packing the boot feels spoiled, so you stand at the corner and feel too many eyes on you. James stands beside you, one hand hovering behind your shoulders to shield you, ridiculously, from the hedge behind, the other held aloft in level with his mouth, fingers curled around a small radio you’ve seen clipped to his shoulder. He’s enunciating clear, short instructions. He doesn’t sound as severe as you’d pictured someone in his occupation would sound.

“What’s traffic like?” he asks. The answer buzzes down the line, inaudible to you but obviously understood by James. “Alright, brilliant. We should be on schedule, then. Is the third team on call?”

You can make the next answer out. “Yep, they’re waiting. You want them at the front?”

“Please. I want everyone we have, ideally.”

“Isn’t that overkill?” Sirius shouts from the passenger seat of the car, bent over the handbrake to be heard. “All three teams? That’s twelve men. None of my sources hint at any leaks.”

“I’m being over cautious.” James smiles at you, so suddenly you smile back on instinct. “Security on call get paid either way. Might as well make them work for it.”

He ushers you into the back seat, a cushy leather bench fit for three people. It’s rented, but Sirius is quick to pop a section behind his chair for you to show you the drinks fridge.

“Oh,” you breathe, legs lit and cooled by the light and the chilled air, “cool.”

“You’ll want to drink one before James assesses that they’re poisoned.”

You wince back. “Are they poisoned?”

“Probably not, my love.”

Sirius is a mixture of flirtatious and genuine that you can’t wrap your head around. He’s awfully handsome, too, which makes it worse: he’s tanned, his curls shine, and he has the most perfect Roman nose you’ve ever seen. He’s almost as handsome as James.

“Let me be very clear,” he says gently, turned in his seat to face you, “I’m not an intelligence agent. I don’t know nearly as much as darling Jamie about security, but I have a lot of friends in high places and, as far as I’m aware, nobody outside of the British or Genovian government knows what we’re doing here. And nobody has reason to hurt you just yet.” He grins. “It’s James’ job to be paranoid, but that’s all it is.”

You waver, and his cheerful smile fades.

He lowers his voice, tone sympathetic. “I can always try one first if you’re worried.”

The driver’s door opens and James climbs in. “Try what?” he asks. He moves through a routine quickly of safety checks like a learning driver would. He rolls up the open window and turns in his seat, gaze flitting between you and Sirius suspiciously. “Everything okay?”

“I think the Princess is a little anxious about leaving the country,” Sirius says.

“Yeah?” James asks, eyes back to the windshield. He turns the key, and the car warms to life with a low roar.

“A little.” You nudge the fridge closed with your foot.

“What was that?” James asks. “Is that a fridge? Do me a favour, don’t drink any of that. I'll get you whatever you want at the airport.”

“She can’t have a bottle of water from the fancy jeep but airport drinks are fine?” Sirius laughs.

“Spike one fridge’s worth or the entire supply chain?” James asks.

“What if this assassin is inefficient?”

“Assassin?” you ask.

James glares at Sirius. "There are no assassins, Princess. He's being ridiculous." He looks to you with a smile. "You have everything?"

Your expression, a sickly grimace, has him giving pause. All fake smiles and dramatics fall away, and in its place is the genuineness you'd been met with last night.

"Hypothetically," he says, "there are assassins. In reality, there absolutely are not. You're not in any danger, alright? Sirius is the master of badly timed jokes."

"Okay," you say meekly.

James nods and you buckle in, sitting back in the comfiest car seat you've ever sat in and turning your face to the window. You look up at your flat building, and as the car starts to move, it shrinks. You drive further and further away, until you turn a corner, and your life is out of view.

—

James is worried about you. As an acquaintance, he's starting to think you're a worrying person. There isn't a whole lot of spark behind your eyes — you rival Remus for number of tired smiles.

He wonders why you hadn't packed any of your art supplies. Your room is teeming with them. Even if you're correct and you aren't the Genovian princess after all, there's still a day or more before they can actually confirm that, and factoring in travel time, you won't be home for at least a week. A week without your sketchbooks and paints and pencils.

As your bodyguard, as a bodyguard, James has always taken concern in his charge's overall health, mental and physical. You don't seem ill, but you do seem unhappy.

"Are you afraid of flying?" he asks, hoping that will explain your distance.

He stands less than half a foot from you. He'll allow you some more space just as soon as you're not in an airport.

"I'm not sure," you say.

Another peculiarity, you're a pathological liar.

Okay, that's unfair. You aren't pathological — James is an excellent judge of character, as his job requires, and he's gotten good at profiling a person's motivations. Your motivation is to become the smallest version of yourself that you can be. Any possible imposition is set aside, such as your refusal of painkillers when your cheek can't not hurt. You refuse to inconvenience others.

"Is there something I can do? To help you feel better?"

You smile awkwardly. "Is that your job?" you ask, voice lilting upward with self-consciousness.

"Kind of. You know, as soon as your paternity test is recognised, you could ask for just about anything. An assistant, as many assistants and attendants as you want. Your security will most certainly increase, especially when the Palace makes a statement."

He notes your widening eyes and backtracks. "It's not really my job, but I wouldn't mind. If you think of anything, let me know."

You hide your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. You're dressed as he advised, comfortably and nondescript.

"Do you need anything from me?" you ask.

He hides his surprise, eyes doing another lap of the semi-private waiting room he's ushered you into. He takes in business men, officials, and diplomats for the tenth time in half an hour.

"I don't need anything from you, Princess. Thank you."

"I don't want to make your job any harder than it is."

"You haven't."

"That's not true," you murmur, bruised cheek toward the floor and away from view.

"That was my fault," James says. "Not yours."

He can feel the heat of your tears running down his index finger.

"That was my mistake," he reaffirms.

You don't answer, but James knows it isn't an agreeable silence. Which is fine, he isn't trying to dominate your opinion, would never assume he had the right to police what you're feeling. He wants to reassure you more than he strictly should.

This might be harder than I thought, he thinks.

"The flight is near enough three hours. You're sure you don't want anything to take with you? If you're worried about dietary restrictions, there's a salad bar in the Mastercard lounge. I'm sure we can get someone to make you something up."

"I'm fine… Will you be hungry?"

He laughs. "You really don't understand the employee employer dynamic, do you?" he asks, not unkindly. "You don't have to worry about me."

He says it sweetly, careful to ensure you understand. He isn't telling you off. He's teasing you.

He knows he's done a good job when you lift your head.

"I don't think you can talk about employee employer dynamics," you say, eyes flitting downward to your cheek's bruise.

He chuckles, eyebrows jumping up. "Oh, nice! That was a quick one. We'll make a Genovian of you yet, they're all sarcastic."

"They? You aren't Genovian?"

"Do I look Genovian?" he asks, gesturing to his face. You splutter. "I'm messing with you. No, I'm not originally from Genovia, but my heart is hers."

"You've always lived there?"

"Since I was two."

Your expression dims. It takes James a second to connect the dots.

"There are plenty of people living in Genovia who aren't native. Remus is Welsh, can you tell? His accent hasn't quite survived it."

"You've met before? You all seem familiar."

"We went to the same boarding school. Well, we actually shared a room. We-" He feels heat crest at his unprofessional phrasing. "We're best mates."

"And you all get to be together," you say softly.

"Yeah, we do. We're lucky. Before this, Remus was working as a royal tutor for the young elites, and Sirius was trying to micromanage Julianna. That's your cousin."

"The Princess' cousin," you correct.

"You brought us back together," he says. "You'll have to forgive me for hoping you are who they say you are."

"Lily never really explained, how I- I mean, why they think it's me."

"Well," he says, stepping closer to you still, and lowering his voice, "my assumption is that, because the Prince's passing was a freak accident, they hadn't really planned for any other successors yet."

"Well, what were they going to do? He'd pass on eventually."

"I believe there were hopes he'd marry a Duchess."

"And have a legitimate child."

"Yes. You are, to the majority, a secret. The Prince would have been seventeen at the time of your conception, which is a royal scandal if I've ever heard one."

"Seventeen?" you ask.

"Lily didn't tell you any of this?"

"Honestly, uh, she might have. I wasn't-" You clear your throat mildly. "Wasn't really listening? I had a pretty bad migraine at the time, and I was tired, you know?"

"You were overwhelmed at finding out you're apprincess."

"That I might be a princess."

"Sure. When they told me I might be Prince of Italy, I had the same reaction."

You wrinkle your nose at him, the most forceful thing you've done in his presence. He laughs a storm, only tamping it down when he remembers he's a professional.

Soon, the boys return from their airport traipsing. Remus makes a quiet comment on James' happy smile, and he pretends to zip his lips closed when they both spot Sirius' curious glances. James moves your entourage to a small aircraft, not private but almost, and you board into first class seats, two per each side of the aisle and partitioned by a sheet of frosted plexi-glass.

You and James sit together.

He doesn't subject you to conversation. He's technically working, and so while he relaxes into his seat and stretches out his tired legs, he doesn't cut vigilance.

You look around in awe for some time. Eyes widened just slightly, lips parted, you sit up and sneak glances at everything you can. James knocks on the partition gently.

"You want the fan? The heater?"

"The fan," you say, and he supposes you do look a bit warm at the collar. "Please."

He doesn't bother saying of course, or no worries, or no problem. He's a problem solver. If you're going to be under his watch, he's going to make it as easy on you as he can. That means letting you be thankful without shrugging it off.

Your eyes close quickly. Your eyelashes flutter imperceptibly in the overhead fans slow breeze, and your lips part as you fall into sleep. Last night's disruption had been hard on you no doubt. He stands quietly and eases sideways down the aisle to check on Remus and Sirius inconspicuously.

"Anything for me to read?" he asks Remus.

Remus knows exactly what James is up to. If he appreciates or abhors the extra attention is anyone's guess, until he digs through the bag at his feet and pulls out one of his Russian philosophy novels with a smirk. "This or the newspaper."

James takes the worn paperback with a wry look of defeat and reaches over and across to Sirius head of curls, tugging one cruelly.

Sirius looks up, but is only irritable when he notices that it had been James, and not his seatmate.

"What?" Sirius demands.

"Do you need anything?"

"No. Quit mothering. And maybe get some rest?"

"I can't."

"You most certainly can. Swap out with Frank, or Mickey or someone."

James swaps out with Mickey. Mickelson, please keep an eye on the entryway. Yes boss. He returns, finding you aren't as asleep as he'd thought. You look at him through lashes. You've gone soft, in little regard for your appearance, and he's glad for it. Watching you is like watching a spring stretched tall, and now you've finally snapped into yourself and deflated.

"You alright?" he murmurs.

You nod, and he sits, and when he doesn't get up you fall asleep again, like you'd been waiting for him to get back. You sleep for hours, through turbulence, Sirius' roaring laughter, Remus' answering chuckles, and the flight attendant who scolds them. James wishes he could do the same, reading a mind-numbing forty pages of Russian literature densely translated and sipping on a glass of coke, the ache of an oncoming pressure headache pinching behind his eyes.

The hubbub doesn't wake you. The plane lands, you sleep on.

James whispers your name, quiet, speaking louder when you fail to rouse. Finally, he gives in and squeezes your shoulder. Heat radiates through the thick fabric of your hoodie. You hair is frizzy where it's rubbed against the seat behind you.

You wake with a raspy cough. "James?"

"We're here, Princess, in Genovia."

"That was," —you yawn, turning to hide your face so he can't see— "fast."

You look like you might fall asleep again. His heart does this awful little flip. He ignores it.

"It was hours. You've slept the whole time– A good thing, huh?" He bends down until you're face to face, an amicable gap between you as he squints at your bruise. He's close enough to share your breath. "Bruise is getting worse. Remus will give you painkillers, and I'm gonna get you an ice pack as soon as we're off the plane."

He squeezes your shoulder again. "Up. Come on."

You nod and rub your eyes, stretching in your seat. He averts his gaze and stands as tall as he can, shoulders hunched to avoid clipping his head. Remus has made no efforts to move yet and Sirius is in the aisle, pulling their bags into his arms.

"Are you alright, Moony?" James asks.

Remus has gone ashen.

"He has a migraine."

"Can you see okay?" James asks.

Remus gets blurry, occluded vision when he gets these sudden migraines. He winces, hand over his eyes, and says, "Not really. Can I have your sunglasses?"

"Yeah," James says, holding in the, of course you can, I'd genuinely die for you, that he wants to add.

He slides his rucksack off of his shoulder and takes his sunglasses from the front pocket. He taps them into Remus' hand.

"You'll have to touch up the Princess' bruise for me," Sirius says.

James coughs. "What?"

"It's easy–"

"I'll take Remus," James says.

"You can both go do your jobs, I'll be fine," Remus mutters, flinching at an invisible, biting pain.

"No," they both deny.

Remus doubles over.

"All you have to do is stipple it," Sirius whispers fervently.

"Sirius, I don't know what stippling is."

"Dots of makeup. She knows what shade we chose. Here, take my bag. There's a clean brush."

Sirius smiles at James. Remus hasn't always let them take care of him. His disabilities have often made him the subject of disdain, pity, and misguided attention he has never, ever wanted, and he'd mistaken their friendship for lots of things at first. Nowadays, he accepts the help that he needs, help that his friend's are happy to give, and disregards their smothering overkill otherwise. That being said, Remus has always found it easier to accept help from Sirius than James. They all know it and none of them bother saying why that is aloud.

Flying nearly but not quite privately means they can get off the plane whenever they're ready (within reason), and so James ushers you back into your seat where you'd been standing tentatively in the aisle and presents the little make up bag. He kneels in front of you.

"I'll get the painkillers," he says, remembering his earlier promise, "Sirius is preoccupied, so. You're stuck with me on touch ups."

"Is it bad?"

"No. Does it feel bad?"

Your slow response is telling. "No," you lie, "it's not that bad." You point at one of the colours through the clear case. "I think it was that one."

"Thank you," he says, murmurs, opening the case. There's a brush tucked inside, and he picks it up clumsily.

"Does he have a mirror?" you ask. "I can do it myself, if you want."

"If he does, he didn't give it to me. I promise not to mess you up too badly, Princess."

James presses the brush into your chosen colour and pats. The concealer is harder than he'd thought it would be, tough under the brush. It all looks silly in his hands.

"Lean your head back for me," he says softly.

You tip your chin up. Your eyes close as he begins.

He's too careful. The colour doesn't want to transfer. "Sorry," he murmurs, applying pressure. You wince but say nothing to stop him. "Tell me if it hurts too much."

"It's only a bruise."

"You're allowed to be hurt. And you should be more angry with me."

"It was an accident."

"It was my mistake." He watches the bruise disappear under concealer, but the colour doesn't quite match your skin. He tries his best to blend out the edges. "A professional mistake, which means you're more than allowed to be annoyed."

"I'm starting to think you want me to be mad," you say. You're trying not to move, and so each word is half a whisper.

"I do. I want you to be furious. It's ten times harder to keep someone safe when they have no self-preservation."

He gives up on the brush and uses his pinky, his cleanest finger, to smudge out the blocky colour he's left behind. Your skin is scorching under his touch.

"So if I'm angry with you, that makes your job easier?"

He hums. "Mh-hmm. Much easier."

You hold your breath as he finishes up, a gentle patting motion as he was instructed.

"How some girls do this every day," he mutters.

"It gets easier."

"Yeah?" He drags his pinky down your cheek without thinking. "Hopefully this is my last time. It looks fine. Maybe don't stop in direct sunlight."

He collects all of his things and pulls the makeup bag into his chest, easing his way out into the aisle again. You follow. Everyone else has left, except for a pearly-smiled flight attendant, who's smile grows impossibly wider as they approach.

"Everything okay today folks?" he asks. "How was your flight?"

James offers thank-yous and guides you down the length of the plane to the exit. You're quiet from the plane to the steps, his hand ghosting your shoulder, to the tarmac, where your security entourage awaits. Including James there are eight bodyguards. Two stick close, five form a mock perimeter around you.

"Unfortunately, you might draw attention from the protection detail alone. It's up to you, Princess, but I can hide your face."

"Is that… dramatic?"

"It's completely up to you. I don't think it's dramatic. Just depends on how comfortable you are with your face potentially being used somewhere."

"Can I– Maybe I'll stay close," you say, pulling your hood up.

"Yeah. Tell me if you're uncomfortable."

He takes you by the elbow and you walk. There aren't any paparazzi waiting outside, and James thinks maybe the news of your arrival has escaped them, and you won't be exposed to the madness that is paps with a story like this one, until he sees Sirius and Remus waiting at the glass doors into the airport.

"Can't we go around?" Sirius asks.

"They have to check our passports, idiot," Remus says, with little malice.

"You can fucking see them, mate," he says to James.

James motions for you to stand where you are and crosses the gap to get a better look. Mickey takes his place by your side.

"Fuck," he hisses, "what the fuck is that? Who fucking leaked?"

"Should I be worried?" he hears you ask quietly.

"Mickelson, give the Princess your sunglasses."

"So yes, then," you say.

James props open the door with his foot. "Princess, you're going first. They'll expect you in the middle. Hopefully that'll minimise what they can get." He holds out his arm.

You slot perfectly underneath it.

"Ready?" he asks.

You don't look very ready. You nibble your lip and nod anyhow, tucking your face into his front. James walks you forward, into a storm of white flashes and shouting, the precipice of your new life.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 please consider reblogging if you did, I'd love to know what you thought and what you want to see in the next one! and a happy new year !!!!

#james potter fic #james potter #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #the marauders

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

Text

🌶️ Yandere Baki Short Stories: Longing (Final) 🌶️

Yandere Katsumi Orochi x Afab Reader

Minors DNI!!

Trigger Warnings: Yandere behavior, breeding kink, obsession, etc

Part 1

4.4k words

Katsumi glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past one in the morning… he was sure (your name) was fast asleep and yet he was still restless.

Katsumi quietly rose up from his bed to make his way to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. After his late night endeavor, he was parched.

Katsumi softly tiptoed through the house, careful not to make a peep. He’d hate to wake up (your name)…

Katsumi quietly opened the cupboard and picked up a glass cup. The young man gently shut the cupboard door shut and made his way over to the sink to fill up his glass.

Katsumi greedily gulped down the cold water and sighed. It seemed he was going to have yet another restless night.

As he made his way back to his room, he heard a soft groan. The young man paused and glanced at the door that was ajar to (your name)’s room. It wouldn’t hurt to peak would it?

Katsumi peaked his head into her room and saw her snuggled underneath a multitude of blankets. Her small body curled up into a plain white body pillow. She was so cute…

Katsumi found himself automatically move to her side when she mumbled incoherently in her sleep. Her brows furrowed a bit as she smushed herself further into the body pillow. Katsumi’s heart clenched at the sight.

He reached his left hand down to brush a few stray hairs from her face. (Your name) unconsciously leaned into the touch with a content sigh. Katsumi warmed at her reaction.

He sat himself on the corner of her bed, his hand contently stroked her soft hairs before he moved to stroke the soft skin of her face. And that’s when he caught himself run his thumb across her plump lips. He froze in horror.

Why was he being such a weirdo? Katsumi wanted to smash his head into a wall at first until her lips pressed tenderly against his thumb. He felt his breath hitch at the light touch.

Katsumi slowly lifted his hand up and pressed his lips to the spot she kissed. He shuddered in awe. This was an indirect kiss… how badly he wanted to press his lips against hers.

Katsumi cast one last look toward (your name) before he left the room. Katsumi put his palm over his face once the shame set in. He was sick. He was so sick…

But why had those simple touches felt so right?

As of late, he caught himself taking pictures of her doing her day to day activities. Whether she ate food, took a nap, watched a movie, etc, Katsumi had a picture of it.

To try to ease his longing for her, he had printed out each picture and put them into a photo album. He frequently had to refill the album, because he found himself kissing all the older photos until the faces disappeared off them. Oops.

Katsumi crawled in bed with her almost every night. He couldn’t sleep without her body by his side. (Your name) was his only solace… his light. His love.

Katsumi couldn’t bear to be a part from her. It drove him mad.

At this point, Katsumi had finally figured out that his feelings are not normal. That this was spiraling out of control and he might act upon his alien feelings towards the young woman.

He needed to let his feelings be known, or otherwise, he’d be be consumed in his obsession.

Lately (your name) would wake up in a pool of sweat, which was abnormal for her. She always kept her room at a sensible degree but as of late, she’d been so hot in her sleep. Maybe she needed to shed a few blankets?

The young woman sighed and shook her head. She had been so tired as of late… she felt drained…

(Your name) made her way towards the kitchen only to spot a shirtless Katsumi by the fridge. The carton of orange juice in his hand. He had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar…

“Hey! What did I tell you about drinking out of the carton?” (Your name) scolded him with a laugh, the young man bashfully hid his face.

(Your name)’s cheeks flushed a bit when she noticed his visible V line. Why did Katsumi have to be so attractive? He had the perfect build and his demeanor was so cute…

Wait. Did she have a crush on him?

Katsumi noticed the flushed look on her face and it made his heart race. What was on her mind? Hopefully it was him.

(Your name) noticed a change in Katsumi as the weeks went by. He was touchier and was always a bit too into her personal space. It bugged her but she wondered if he was just naturally a touchy guy.

Just like now, he sat beside her on the couch as she watched a movie. His arm on the back of the couch, just barely above her shoulders… she wondered if he needed anything? Maybe he was cold since she had the blanket?

“Katsumi?” Katsumi immediately turned his head to her, he reminded her of a puppy with his happy demeanor. “Are you cold?”

Katsumi’s cheeks flushed a bright red. Did she just offer to share the blanket with him? Was she making the first move?

“I am a little bit, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Katsumi replied softly, a tender look in his eye. “We could… share it.”

(Your name) thought for a moment but then she scooted towards Katsumi. She opened up her blanket and offered him some, only for Katsumi to scoop his arm around her and pull her towards him. A shocked gasp spilled from her lips.

“Katsumi!” (Your name) squeaked but Katsumi only chuckled.

“Sorry… but isn’t this more comfortable?” Katsumi gave her a cheesy smile, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Her back was pressed into his broad chest, which left no room for escape.

(Your name) sighed and accepted defeat. Katsumi was so warm… like a furnace. And she could smell the scent of oranges and clean linen on him. Something about him felt so oddly comforting.

Katsumi smiled when she curled into his embrace. Did he dare to be a bit bolder?

“(Your name)?” Katsumi smiled down at the young woman who innocently glanced up at him. Her head tilted off the the side a bit, a lump caught in his throat when their eyes met. He needed to make the first move.

“Yes?”

Katsumi gulped down the lump, and leaned down. His lips pressed softly against the top of her head. (Your name) merely froze in place like a deer caught in the head lights.

Katsumi swiftly pulled away, his eyes widen in shock. Did he make her uncomfortable?

“I’m sorry-“ (your name) tenderly pressed her lips to his chin, a shy smile on her face.

“It’s okay… I enjoyed it.” (Your name) awkwardly leaned a bit more into his chest, which left Katsumi stunned. The young man blankly stared off into the distance for a bit until he shook his head.

“Wait… do you like me too?” Katsumi whispered, both of their faces erupted into a bright shade of red.

“Well… I-I mean… um.” (Your name) was at a loss for words. She clutched her hands to her chest to try to calm her anxious heart. She didn’t know what to say… or what to do. She’s never dated before. She was so close to a full blown panic.

Katsumi placed his hand on her cheek to turn her head to face him. His eyes half lidded with desire and his slightly chapped lips parted. And that’s when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. His movement a bit clumsy but still incredibly gentle.

(Your name) closed her eyes and shyly kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer while Katsumi wrapped his arm around her waist.

The two of them found themselves unable to pull away from one another. Their mouths entangled in a clumsy, sensual dance of lips, tongue, and teeth.

The two slowly pulled away, their lips swollen and their cheeks flushed. Katsumi leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course!” (Your name) giggled. The two sat in each other’s embrace.

The poor girl was unaware that she had just sealed her fate…

Days with Katsumi were exciting and new. He would wrap his left arm snug around her waist whenever she’d make meals so he could press kisses to her neck, shoulders, and cheeks. His face buried into the back of her neck so he could greedily inhale her scent. He was such a goofball.

Katsumi loved to play wrestle and start tickle fights. The man was nice enough to let her win most of the time and he’d eventually release her from tickles when both of their chests hurt from their fits of laughter.

Katsumi would also randomly buy ‘just because’ flowers for her, takeout from her favorite restaurants when she had a busy day, and he always snuggled beside her at night. His arm wrapped around her while he spooned her body in her bed. Occasionally she’d join him in his. Everything felt so natural with him.

Katsumi was amazing. He was everything she ever wanted in a man. And today… she was going to meet his parents.

Katsumi gave (your name)’s right hand a reassuring squeeze. His fingers interlaced with hers.

“You’re stressing too much about it. Don’t sweat it.” Katsumi laughed, his eyes filled with love. “They’re so excited to meet you. I’ll probably have to pry them off of you.”

(Your name) smiled at Katsumi, the man instantly cheered her up. “ I hope you don’t have to pry off your parents. I can barely pry off you.”

The couple shared a laugh. The two continued to walk hand in hand to his parents’ house. The two eventually coming to a stop in front of a large, traditional compound.

“Here, let me help you take off your shoes.” Katsumi helped (your name) sit down on the steps before he bent down to untie her shoes for her. The karateka snuck in a kiss on her ankle before he removed the other shoe.

“Katsumi, stop.” (Your name) giggled while Katsumi gave her a dopey grin.

“Am I not allowed to be obsessed with my girl?” Katsumi gave her a flirty wink which made her cheeks explode into crimson.

And that’s when an older woman and a bald man opened the door. The older couple’s eyes wide at the young woman who sat on their step with her feet in Katsumi’s hands.

Katsumi rose up to his feet in a snap, the young man blushed under his parents’ gaze. Katsumi grabbed (your name)’s hand and gave a slight bow to his parents. “Mom. Dad. This is my girlfriend, (your name)-“

Natsue rushed over to the couple and hugged them both. The older woman squealed in happiness, her chocolate eyes filled with warmth.

“It’s nice to finally meet you! Katsumi gushes about you all the time.” Natsue smiled brightly at the couple, Katsumi shyly looked away. “I almost thought you were a dream of his like the kind he used to have when he was little-“

Katsumi swatted Natsue away, the young man pulled (your name) toward him with his arm. “Mom, stop embarrassing me.”

“Is it wrong for a mother to love her son?” Natsue lead the couple into the compound, Katsumi placed his and (your name)’s shoes on the steps. “I can’t wait to show you all of his baby pictures-“

“Mom!” (Your name) put her hand over her lips so her laughs didn’t escape. Katsumi and his family were all so cute…

“And this is Katsumi during his first bath.” Natsue pointed at a picture of a chubby baby in a tub. His signature eyebrows gave away exactly who he was. “I bugged his birth mom for these… I just love babies.”

Katsumi buried his face in (your name)’s shoulder to try to hide his shame but (your name)’s eyes onto sparkled at how cute he was. He was so chubby…

“…little baby feet.” (Your name) muttered softly, her eyes looked at Katsumi’s baby feet in the picture.

“Babies smell so nice and they’re so cute.” Natsue babbled, her shined when she noticed (your name)’s awestruck expression. “I wish we could’ve adopted Katsumi when he was a baby-“

“Let’s put the baby books away.” Doppo laughed as he reached over to gently pull the photo album away from Natsue. “I doubt she wants to see him with his foot in his mouth-“

“You have a picture of his foot in his mouth?!” Natsue snatched the book back from Doppo and flipped through the pages. Hee manicured fingers pointed at one of the cutest baby pictures (your name) had ever seen.

(Your name) almost cried from how cute Katsumi was… He was such a precious, chunky babe.

Katsumi gaze softened at the sight. The young man placed his head on her shoulder, a thought ran through his mind. What if they weren’t his baby pictures, what if these pictures were of their own baby?

Would they have his hair and her eyes? Would they be chubby and happy too with his eyebrows? He wondered if they’d be a boy or a girl…

Katsumi watched (your name) playfully share banter with Doppo and Natsue. The young woman fit right in with little issue, he could tell his parents were fond of her… she was the perfect fit to join their family. Would she want to be his wife? Would she want to be a mother?

Katsumi could picture it. He could see (your name) with a big smile on her face while she proudly held her swollen stomach. She’d be so cute and round with a product of their love inside her. It would be such a perfect sight…

Katsumi pressed a kiss on her shoulder, which caused (your name) to rest her head on his cheek. She eventually pulled away and glanced at Katsumi.

“You were such a cutie when you were little…”

“Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?” Katsumi quirked a brow up at (your name) which made her cheeks warm.

“No… I’m just saying you don’t have cute little feet anymore. You have stinky man feet.” (Your name) squealed when Katsumi bumped her ankle with his bare foot. “Katsu!”

“Just rubbing my stinky man feet on you is all.” Katsumi and her shared a laugh while his parents admired the young couple. They were sure these two were going to be married soon… and grand babies would be soon to follow…

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree…

Katsumi nuzzled his face into (your name)‘s neck, the man deeply inhaled her sweet scent. He couldn’t get enough of her… it drove him insane… just like what’s been on his mind as of late.

They’ve been dating for three months now and they still haven’t been intimate… was she celibate? He didn’t know how to bring it up… maybe he should just ask?

“(Your name)?” (Your name) perked up from her position on the couch, the young woman gave Katsumi her undivided attention.

“Yes, Katsu?” (Your name) softly asked, her lashes fluttered over her (eye color) eyes. Why did she have to be so cute without even trying? “Is something on your mind?”

“I…” Katsumi but his lip, the male hesitated. Was it a strange thing to ask? Would she think he was a pervert?

“Katsumi.” (Your name) scooted away from him and sat up, she grabbed his hand in hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I… I just have been wondering when…” Katsumi then mumbled something she couldn’t quite understand under his breath, the young woman furrowed her brows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I want to have sex!” Katsumi blurted, the man immediately turned red in shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout… I just… I just wondered because we’ve been together for awhile and I’d like to be as close to you as possible-“

“N-no, it’s okay!” (Your name)’s face was just as red. The two sat awkwardly in front of each other. “I… I’ve never…”

“It’s o-okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I’ve never…”

“I’ve never had sex!” The two shouted in unison, their eyes both wide when they looked at each other.

An awkward silence filled the room before the two began to blush even more.

“I didn’t think you’d still be pure…” Katsumi blushed softly. His heart raced at the thought. She was still pure… she would be all his then. His one and only.

“I didn’t think you’d still be a virgin too.” (Your name) shyly replied, she tried to hide her burning cheeks from him but Katsumi grabbed her face in his hand.

Katsumi took the lead and leaned in to press his lips against hers. The young man shuddered at the soft contact before he dived in. His tongue begged for entrance, the wet muscle danced across her bottom lip until she relented.

Katsumi shoved her back on the couch, the couple now a mess of limbs while Katsumi’s hand moved from her face to her stomach.

Katsumi pushed the fabric of her shirt up while his tongue dominated hers. The young man pulled away from the kiss, a wet string of saliva connected the two. His lust filled eyes twinkled at the sight of her in her bra before him.

“You’re all mine…” Katsumi whispered before he moved his lips down to kiss the top of each breast. “I’m going to be the only man to fill you…”

(Your name) gasped when he pulled apart her sports bra like wrapping paper. His mouth latched onto her left nipple to give it an eager suck. A strangled moan escaped her swollen lips while she tried to push him back a bit.

“Gentle, please.” (Your name) whined when Katsumi turned his head up to look up at her. The man pulled away with a wet pop before he dragged his tongue over the pebbled surface.

“I want to touch everything… let me see all of you.” Katsumi whispered into her soft skin, his fingers danced over the delicate skin on her stomach. “I love you so much…”

(Your name) blushed when he pressed a tender kiss to one of her stretch marks, his dark eyes glanced up at her. “Can we go to my bed?”

(Your name) nodded and she was scooped up in his arm in an instant. Katsumi grinned at her as he stole he away to his room. The young man fell on the bed with her in a fit of giggles. His lips entangled with hers once more.

“You’re so beautiful.” Katsumi mutters between desperate kisses, his hips grinded into hers. His thick bulge made her even more nervous on what was to come. “So perfect.”

“I’m scared, Katsumi-“ Katsumi pressed his lips from the top of her neck all the way down her stomach. He would not be stop now, not when he finally could have his fill.

“Allow me to indulge in everything that you have to offer.” Katsumi muttered, his hot breath fanned her hips. “Do I have permission to pull these down?”

(Your name) blushed but she helped Katsumi to pull them down. His onyx eyes took in her bare form before him in awe.

“So beautiful.” Katsumi placed a soft kiss to (your name)’s damp core, his fingers moved to gently stroke the wet slit. Katsumi gazed into her eyes as he inserted a finger, he memorized all of her expression with glee. She was so tight… “Relax a bit, baby. It’ll hurt if you don’t.”

(Your name) sucked in a breath, a few tears in her eyes. His finger was thick… much thicker than her own. And she knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. How on earth would she be able to handle more of this if she already felt so stretched?

Katsumi leaned forward and kissed her mouth. The young man gently curled his finger inside her wet heat until he felt her relax a bit under him. He kissed away her tears.

“I-I’m scared.” (Your name) whispered, only to be silenced by Katsumi’s kisses. The young man angled his thumb up until he felt the small ball of nerves above her slit. His thumb rubbed small circles on her clit, a smile on his lips when she whined a bit. There we go… Katsumi wanted her to feel good.

“We’re learning together.” Katsumi kissed her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you so much… does this feel good?”

“Feels good…” (Your name) wrapped her arms around Katsumi’s neck. She buried her nose into his muscular shoulder to try to ground herself. “M-more please…”

Katsumi smiled at her, the young man slowly eased in another finger to prep her for what was to come. (Your name)’s breath hitched and she moaned into his shoulder.

Katsumi pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a big smile on his face. “There we go… do you like this? Am I touching you right?”

(Your name) shyly nodded, her eyes glance at him. “Y-yes… I…”

Katsumi gave (your name) a soft kiss, his body trembled a bit. “Can I… can I give you more?”

“More?” (Your name)’s back arched when he curled his fingers inside of her in her most sensitive spot. A loud moan escaped her lips. “What do you mean-“

(Your name)’s words were stuck in her throat at the sight before her. Katsumi had a damp spot on his shorts from the end of his erection, his cheeks a bright cherry red under her intense gaze.

“I want… I want to become one.” Katsumi blushed, his head shyly tilt off to the side. “Please… I’ll be gentle.”

(Your name) curiously reached a hand forward to touch the strained bulge, Katsumi shuddered in response. He didn’t dare stop her curiosity. He was too over the moon that she just touched him to care if she wanted more.

“I trust you…” (Your name) lowered the waist band of his pants, his member sprang out and smacked right below his belly button. He was thick… could she fit her hands around it?

Katsumi whined when her hand gently wrapped around his shaft. Her eyes widen at his reaction.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you-“ Katsumi gentle thrust into her hand, his eyes half lidded with lust.

“No… feels good.” Katsumi replied while he continued to curl his fingers in her which elicited a moan from her lips. “You make me feel so good…”

Katsumi pulled his dripping fingers out of her with a squelch. The young man brought the wet digits up to his mouth and sucked the juices off of them, his eyes didn’t leave hers once.

Katsumi scooped her wrists up in his hand and pushed them above her head. The man gulped above her.

“I think you’re adjusted enough… it might hurt a bit.” Katsumi whispered. “You can hold onto my back, okay? Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Katsumi then pulled his hand back to line himself up at her entrance. The damp, bulbous tip began to slowly breach her walls, a shudder escaped Katsumi’s lips at the sensation.

“So tight!” He cried while (your name) held onto his back. Her body burned s little from the foreign intrusion. “I’m not hurting you am I?”

“No, Katsumi.” Katsumi shushed her, his thumb wiped away a few stray tears.

“You say that and then you cry. Liar.” Katsumi placed his lips on hers with the tenderness of a man in love. “I’m not even halfway in yet and you’re squeezing me so tight… just relax, baby.”

(Your name) felt more tears fall but Katsumi maneuvered his thumb back to her neglected clit. The young man began to softly circle the small bud again while he inched into her.

The young woman began to slowly adjust to him with a soft smile. Her hips slowly bucked into hers and without warning, he began to slam himself into her. His heavy balls slapped against the fat of her ass, words of incoherent praises and curses spilled from his lips that would bring any porn star to shame.

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” Katsumi moaned. “Gonna fill up your womb with my cum!”

(Your name) could only gasp and moan under Katsumi, his thrusts slammed the whole bed into the wall. She held onto his back for dear life while his hand held the head board.

“I’m gonna to breed you!” Katsumi cried, tears fell from his eyes. “Gonna make you my wife!”

(Your name) felt a coil start to build up, her moans and gasps grew louder while Katsumi’s hips started to stutter. She knew he was close.

“Katsumi, I think I’m gonna-“

“M-me too. Let’s cum together.” Katsumi muttered before he slammed his lips down on hers in s hungry kiss. His hand tangled in her hair as his thrusts became sloppy.

(Your name)’s body wracked with an orgasm, her body shook and her toes curled from the force. And Katsumi was immediately after, his muscles went taut and his eyes rolled back. Hot, molten cum filled her as her muscles clamped around him.

“I love you.” Katsumi whispered over and over again. The man pressed his lips all over her face. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.” (Your name) giggled at his touchiness. The dark haired man buried his face into the crook of her neck. “I love you a lot, Katsumi.”

Katsumi smiled up at her as he pulled out of her. He wrapped his arm around her in a tight hug. She’d never love him a fraction of what he felt for her, but that was okay…

Katsumi was never going to let her go. Now that they lost their virginities to each other, they were bound for life. Marriage and children were the next logical step.

“Let’s get married and start a family.” Katsumi whispered into her hair. “I’m all yours… just please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’d never leave you, Katsumi.” Katsumi and (your name) shared a smile.

Katsumi pulled the blanket over the two of them for warmth. Finally… finally this was a longing fulfilled at last…

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