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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park.

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street.

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel."

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection.

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot.

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder.

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes.

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over.

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted."

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again.

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe.

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road.

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'.

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too.

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work.

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?"

"Okay," she echoes.

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue.

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make.

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'.

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him.

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand.

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable."

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare.

"Yes, you are."

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body."

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving."

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically.

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms.

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options.

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet.

You're daunted.

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question."

"I don't know. Without?"

"You are so weird," he says happily.

You pout and pull Junie closer.

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two.

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone.

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection.

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?"

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him.

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone.

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you?

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?"

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness.

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs."

"Don't tempt me."

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping.

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation.

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?"

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow.

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-"

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness.

"I guess she's old enough."

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should.

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces."

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you.

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly.

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke.

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down.

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it."

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing.

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers.

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently.

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb.

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw.

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing.

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog.

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble.

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!"

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated.

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath.

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper.

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?"

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another.

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted.

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos."

"I saw."

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?"

"Subtle."

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson."

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold.

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?"

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound.

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers.

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap.

"Why?" Junie asks.

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?"

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her.

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant.

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle.

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed.

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy.

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears.

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV."

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour."

"No," she whines softly.

He covers her unhappy face with his hand.

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear."

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better.

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly.

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through.

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed.

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted.

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me."

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air.

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine.

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat.

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something.

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to.

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks."

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts.

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you."

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie.

He knows it for a fact.

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face.

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!"

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea.

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside.

Junie lifts her flushed face.

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet.

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings.

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?"

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention.

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers.

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime.

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy.

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh.

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are.

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep.

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking.

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?"

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid.

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred.

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt.

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake.

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all.

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me."

"What?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants."

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares."

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder.

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie.

She raises both arms.

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks.

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired."

"You're alright to walk out to the car?"

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts.

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you.

It's a cool, crisp night outside.

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating?

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road.

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick.

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes."

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water."

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special."

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door.

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head."

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say.

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car.

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head.

You're staring at him as he opens the door.

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?"

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?"

"Kiss it better?"

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion.

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted.

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright.

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially.

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side.

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt.

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here."

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her.

"Eddie?" you ask.

He turns. You look miserable.

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression.

"Thank you."

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog."

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous."

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur.

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love.

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap.

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues.

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything."

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg.

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg.

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully.

"I should go home."

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear.

"Can you hug me?" you ask.

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation.

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine."

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me."

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?"

"Ow," you whine.

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts."

"Why's everybody always on top of me?"

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?"

"No!"

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it."

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug.

"I'm not sitting in your lap."

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest.

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden.

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone.

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in.

Long minutes of quiet hugs.

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried."

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart.

"I wasn't," you say.

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page.

You get really, really sick.

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle.

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend."

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home.

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said.

And now here he is again the day after.

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say.

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks.

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes."

"This is just something I had lying around."

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head.

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-"

"That is in terrible taste."

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think."

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts."

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently.

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption."

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves.

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV.

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks.

You grin to yourself.

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June."

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to.

"Fun," she says.

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you."

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown.

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry.

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment.

"Don't baby me."

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head."

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight."

"What does she want for dinner tonight?"

"Boo! Exactly my point."

"I'm gonna go ask her-"

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave."

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word.

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything.

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to.

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now.

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing."

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious."

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-"

"Mild-"

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!"

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party."

"I promised."

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?"

"You can't."

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday."

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do."

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman."

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me."

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot."

"Name-calling."

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?"

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move."

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin.

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls.

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close.

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much.

"Freckle."

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends.

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry."

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff."

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard.

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it."

"I said, 'You're an-"

"Amazing friend and confidante?"

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?"

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said."

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat.

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands.

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws.

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash.

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-"

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper.

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life."

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on.

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face.

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes.

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish."

"Eddie…"

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar."

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs.

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious.

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up.

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely.

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length.

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression.

"Mis'd," she says.

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully.

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms.

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?"

"You're not very convincing."

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender.

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue.

"She might've. You tell her enough."

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic."

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain.

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck.

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time."

"Mommy," she says into your neck.

"That's me."

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts.

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing.

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist.

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please."

"Thank you."

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-"

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-"

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me."

"What does that mean? Of course I did."

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie.

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?"

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin.

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?"

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity.

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles.

You and Junie wave him off.

"To work?" Junie asks.

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?"

"To work?"

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now."

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you.

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow.

But apparently he's coming back tonight.

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock.

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair.

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention.

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said.

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne."

"You don't wanna be here."

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do."

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know."

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?"

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb."

"You keep saying that."

"You keep being dumb, boy."

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat.

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning.

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle.

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence.

"Hot shower," you explain.

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features.

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence.

Eddie's better than okay.

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it.

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy."

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot."

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero."

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes.

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now."

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth.

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend."

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face.

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it."

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of."

"Even murderers?"

"Maybe not murderers-"

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?"

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject."

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you."

"You do."

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be."

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall.

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks.

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning.

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe."

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?"

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is."

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften.

"What if I was?" you ask.

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone.

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast.

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt.

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer.

"You're so fucking pretty," he says.

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap.

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose.

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp.

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone.

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy.

"I'll make you sick."

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat.

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes.

You don't answer.

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch.

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close.

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears.

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own.

You have to feel it.

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully.

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever.

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does.

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough.

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters.

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt.

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly.

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything."

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes.

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart.

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips.

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore.

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head.

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that."

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous.

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter.

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic.

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you."

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good.

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips.

"What?"

"I…"

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me."

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly.

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back.

"Just wanted to do that," you say.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter

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#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 x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #Single mom!reader #reader insert

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hier--soir · 6 months

Text

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button. Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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miloformula123fan · 1 month

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Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He opted to hold her hand during the celebration of the Merc's double podium because there were too many people. "Move through the crowd while holding hands so as to not lose one another – and not letting go afterwards". Just something fluff and comfort. Add something if it's not right. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

sorry it's so short! but I loved writing this fluff, and honestly churned it out in like 1 hour.

also if you have older requests i am working on them, I am just also working on school work.

luckily, all my assessments are nearly done, and holidays are next week so yay! more updates :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

toto wolff x wife!reader

“AND THAT IS A MERCEDES 1-2 TO THROW THIS CHAMPIONSHIP WIDE OPEN AT THE SAUDI ARABIAN GRAND PRIX AND 3 YEARS AFTER WINNING HIS LAST GRAND PRIX HERE, LEWIS HAMILTON HAS WON HIS 104TH CAREER VICTORY AND WHAT A WAY TO DO IT IN HIS LAST SEASON WITH MERCEDES.”

The rest of Crofty’s speech was drowned out by the cheers of the garage around Y/N as the team who had gone so long without winning, especially Lewis’ side of the garage cheered and yelled and as the pit mechanics came back from where they’d been on the fence yelling and contributed to more noise.

Y/N felt a little overwhelmed. She hadn’t really been in the garage since 2021, due to her husband’s tensions during the year and her wish to continue to just focus on her own career. She tried to insist she was the team’s bad luck charm after Abu Dhabi, until people had pointed out that she’d also been there during the dominant 2020 season. And as she had spent 2022 and 2023, which also were not great years for Mercedes, she’d agreed to do a lot more of her work remotely and come to the grand prixs. She insisted that she was bad luck at the first grand prix, and Toto had basically dragged her along to Saudi.

Maybe she was their good luck charm, she thought, as the garage exploded when Max and Sergio had crashed into each other, making both the red bulls retire. The Ferrari’s had been having problems all weekend but no one truly hoped even when they were sitting in a 1-2.

At least until they’d crossed the line. And then they’d had hope. And then the celebrations had begun. Someone had already found champagne and begun spraying it around, no one thinking about the podium, until all of a sudden everyone was and they were all rushing around and Y/N was all caught up in the rush and being pushed around by everyone, trying to find Toto until she felt a hand slip into hers.

She jumped back, not wanting some strange man holding her hand until she looked up and realised that it was in fact her husband who was trying to hold her hand.

“Sorry…didn’t realise it was you.”

“That’s okay Liebe. I’ve got you. Now lets go watch Lewis on the podium, okay?”

The second she nodded in agreement, Toto slipped his hand back into Y/N’s as he tried to push through the crowd again. Being tall and the team principal helped, and as they weren't coming for the pre podium celebrations, which is where everyone else was rushing towards. As the drivers were hugged and yelled at again by the mechanics (honestly how were they going to have voices tomorrow, and how were the red bull mechanics’ voices not very raspy after doing this practically every week for the past few years). Y/N thought she was going to have to cancel her meetings for the next few weeks as she would just be unable to talk.

Toto pushed through the throng of mechanics, pushing through the Mercedes and Williams colours everywhere, trying to get a good position at the front, and then the announcers began, and Toto and Y/N were wedged against the barrier and they decided to stop and watch the podium.

Y/N watched as Albon mounted the podium, grinning to the feral screams of the Williams mechanics to her left. She’d ended up wedged between James and Toto, smiling at James’ excitement on Alex being on the podium. She smiled at him as the noise from the Williams side of the podium celebration. He smiled back, almost bouncing up and down by the excitement of what Williams was achieving. And as Lewis, George and Bono bounded onto the podium, bringing up a round of screaming and even Y/N raised her hands. And as she raised her right hand, she could feel Toto’s hand, still intertwined with hers. She smiled, locking eyes with Toto.

His eyes twinkled as he smiled down, before his attention was brought back to the podium and yelling at the drivers.

The German and British anthems blared out, and while Y/N knew most of the words of the British anthem (it was mostly just the same words on repeat ‘god save our king’). And while Toto was able to sing the German anthem while Y/N butchered it here and there. She loved listening to her husband singing or talking in his natural language. It was very hot, if Y/N had to admit it.

As they left the podium to go back to the garage, Toto had still not let go of her hand as they continued winding between what felt like millions of people crowding the pit lane.

When they finally returned to the Mercedes garage, and walked up to Toto’s office, Toto finally let go of Y/N’s hand and started to gather up his work and laptop to get ready to return to the hotel.

“Hey, toto?”

“Yes liebe?”

“Why were you holding my hand?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get lost, and I didn’t want you to get lost, liebe.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you let go of my hand when we got to the podium”

“Do I need an excuse to hold your hand, darling?”

“No but…”

“Then I kept holding your hand because I wanted to keep holding your hand. Is that a good enough excuse?”

“Okay Liebe.”

Toto put all his files and laptop in his left hand after shrugging on his overcoat, and then offered his right hand to Y/N.

“Can I keep holding your hand liebe?”

“Of course you can darling.”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fic #toto wolff #toto wolff x female reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n

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astrophileous · 7 months

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I feel like Derek would be SO aware of Bug when she gets further along in the pregnancy. Anytime she winces due to a harsh kick or Braxton hick, he’s right there beside her. He makes a huge deal of it too, especially if he can’t be by her side immediately 😭 even asks Penelope to send him updates when he’s away

This takes place during the first pregnancy, when Bug is pregnant with Little Bug 🥰 I kinda took inspiration from that scene when JJ went into labor the first time around, I hope you like it <3

Side note, I literally interrogated my mom abt her pregnancy/labor experience for this one cause I don't have any 😭 but then she proceeded to ask if I HAD SOMETHING I WANTED TO TELL HER AKJSJSJDJ LIKE MOM NO I'M NOT PREGNANT I'm just writing a story plsss

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

With your due date just around the corner, it felt like Derek was also constantly in your corner.

The week marked your first one on maternity leave. You had many objections over having to take a longer leave--how were you ever going to survive four long weeks at home doing nothing?--but after constant pestering from both your doctor and Derek, you relented.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Derek was next to you in a flash, as per usual, after he had heard your wince. You were sure that the man was just in another room mere moments prior, yet the second he caught the tiniest sign of distress coming from you, he proceeded to transport himself towards your side.

"Nothing." You chuckled, trying to ease his mind. "Your son is just eager to practice his kicking skills today."

The frown on his forehead deepened. "Does it hurt?"

"It's not that bad."

"Are you sure?" Derek's hand sneaked on top of your belly, as if trying to tell your son to calm down before he could send another painful kick against your abdomen. "Are you sure it's even a kick? Maybe we should go to the--"

"Derek, I'm fine. Promise." You patted his hand that was still on top of yours, entangling them together. "Have you heard from Hotch about where you guys are going tomorrow?"

"Louisville, Kentucky." Derek seemed to ponder something in silence before he continued, "Should I ask Hotch to sit this one out?"

"What? Why would you do that?"

"I don't like being so far away from you." His hand squeezed around yours as he said it, as if trying to emphasize his point. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing is gonna happen, honey. I'm probably just gonna be sleeping half the time you're gone. You'll be bored as hell and wish that you were in Kentucky instead."

"I don't know. I kinda like watching you sleep."

"Good one, Mister. But still no," you said. "Everything's gonna be just fine. Trust me."

Derek wasn't entirely happy about it, but you managed to push him out of the door bright and early the next morning. In his absence, you had the whole house to yourself, and you used that opportunity to do anything to keep yourself out of boredom. Nothing too strenuous, just as your doctor instructed. Not that you could do anything extreme with the weight of your 36-week bump.

You were in the middle of preparing dinner when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Confused, you turned off the stove before heading towards the front door, wondering all the way who could be visiting you on a random Tuesday night.

Your curiosity was answered the moment you opened the door, only to be met with a familiar pair of eyes behind red rimmed glasses and a head of blonde hair in perfect ringlets.

"Pen? What are you doing here?" Your eyes flitted down, noticing the polka dot duffle bag on the ground. "Why do you have a bag?"

"Surprise, Beets! We're having a sleepover!"

You were still in shock when Penelope rushed past you and entered the house. "What do you mean, sleepover?"

"Have you never had a sleepover before, Beets? It means I'm gonna stay here, of course!"

"What? I don't--" realization dawned upon you then, "--did Derek put you up to this?"

"No."

"Pen."

"Okay, fine! Maybe he did. But--" Penelope raised her finger when she saw you about to cut her off, "--I was more than happy and willing to do it anyway. I also don't like the thought of you being alone in this house all by yourself."

"Pen, I appreciate the gesture, really, I do. But just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm not the same person I was before. I can still deliver a mean punch if I have to," you reminded her. "You don't have to do this."

"Beets," Penelope gripped your shoulders, "I know I don't have to, but I want to, okay? Unless you're not looking forward to a marathon of the greatest 90s romcoms every single night. Shall I make myself scarce?"

You mulled over Penelope's offer for a minute. A marathon of the greatest 90s romcoms every single night did sound tempting.

"Fine." When Penelope began to squeal, you quickly added, "But no smothering!"

Penelope ended up staying for nearly the entire week, during which time Derek was constantly terrorizing her with text and voice messages; either demanding an update on you and the baby or asking Penelope to monitor your condition throughout the day.

"He's being ridiculous," you had commented one night when another one of his text messages came in the middle of My Best Friend's Wedding.

"He's worried about you."

"He's too worried." You grabbed another handful of popcorns. "You have my permission to block him anytime you feel like he's being too much."

"Won't that just give him a reason to hop on a plane and go home early?"

Your munching stopped. "Damn, you're right. Fine, just... tell him off anytime he starts being too crazy."

On Saturday, you finally received word that the team was flying back home to Virginia.

"They'll arrive in a couple of hours," Penelope called out from her position in the kitchen. "I've packed my bag and will get out of your hair as soon as Derek gets here. You guys can--what are you doing?"

Penelope knitted her eyebrows together once she walked back into the living area, seeing you somewhat writhing on the couch.

"I don't know. I just can't seem to get comfortable," you said. "And there's this... squeezing pain, I think? I don't know. I think he's pressing on my bladder or kidney or something."

"Beets." Penelope's face had gone a little paler, but there was the ghost of a smile adorning her fuchsia-painted lips. "I think you just described a contraction."

Your heart stuttered. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Beets." Penelope was beside you in a second, just in time for another contraction to hit. "You're going into labor."

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #dad derek morgan #shemar moore #love bugs

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vemuabhi · 2 months

Note

Hey I hope you’re having a great day! I was wondering if you could write a One piece luffy x chubby y/n for your Mini event!

Good Morning

This is one of my pieces for the mini event. Please enjoy and let me know what you think about this. Please forgive any mistake, it isn't proofread.

Prompt taken from here (18) Credit @/bas-writes

Pairing : Luffy X Reader

Word Count : 841

I was listening to Still with you by Jungkook

As a routine Luffy woke up because he got hungry in the middle of the night. He slowly walked towards the kitchen even though he knew Sanji would throw him into the ocean if he ate the meat which is supposed to be tomorrow’s breakfast. But he knew, that meat now is worth being thrown into the sea.

“Going somewhere Luffy?”, your voice made him to stop in his tracks. He slowly turned towards you and smiled sheepishly. The pink cheeks of your captain made you to chuckle.

“So…. I woke up because I wanted to eat something. Got hungry y’know”, you nodded and took his hand. The sound of the waves along with the moon light, it seemed absolutely beautiful. His hand was warm. You both walked into the aquarium room. After you turned on the light, you let his hand go to fetch the secret box of food that you kept hidden.

“You- You have food here”, his eyes light up as soon as you placed the box in his hands.

“Yes, I keep it here hidden, even I get hungry late at nights”, you winked.

“Truly Y/N, I am so happy today”, he said as he started to eat.

“This is our secret, don’t let anyone know about this, especially Sanji”, you placed a finger on your lips as he nodded in enthusiasm. You chuckled, thinking how this so-called secret would be out by the next day. But what mattered the most was that he was not hungry anymore.

You closed the empty box and he was feeling sleepy. A smile formed on your face as you shook his shoulders. “Captain, Don’t sleep while you are still sitting”.

His drowsy eyes scanned the place and noticed Robin’s shawl. His hand stretched to grab the shawl. While the hand travelled back, you were also caught in his grasp. With a swift motion, you were in his arms laying beside him, with the shawl covering you both.

“Let’s just… sleep here for now. I don’t wanna… go back”, he yawned making your cheeks turn red, “You can hold me… tight… if you are cold”. With that the man was already knocked out but at what cost?!! Were you going to sleep if he was so close? With so many thoughts running in your mind, you didn’t even realize when you fell asleep.

The next day, by the time you got up, he was awake but still sleepy. Luffy became muscular during the 2 years of training which wasn’t invisible. But looking at him so close made it even more prominent.

“Mor..ning”, he yawned as a small tear drop formed on the corner of his eye, due to his sleepiness.

“Go.. good morning luffy”, you managed to speak and got up. Rushing to the bathroom was a small word to what you were feeling.

You freshened up then went to eat breakfast, thinking how your secret would be out by now. But to your surprise, no one seemed to talk about it. ‘So… he did keep it a secret’, you covered your face with one of your hands as your eyes met Luffy. He threw you a gentle smile without knowing the consequences it rose in your heart.

That day night, you were unsure if Luffy would come but you waited with two boxes of food near the aquarium room. On dot at 12AM, like yesterday, he was in the room with a smile on his face. Oh his smile was like a virus to you. Making you smile as he came and sat next to you, with him eating his box. Both of you talked and laughed as you ate your food. Like yesterday, he pulled you closer and fell asleep beside you.

This became a routine. Everynight both of you slept beside eachother. You both wished good morning after you both woke up in each other’s arms. The comfort of being beside Luffy made you to feel… safe and happy. One day, you woke up before Luffy and went to on the deck to make the cool breeze caress you in advance you go and train for the day. Zoro who was on night watch, got set to get inside as he saw you. You waved to him as he nodded.

Then to your surprise, you felt the rubber arms hold your waist and pull you up towards the roof of the aquarium room. Luffy hugged your form and sighed.

“Don’t just… go away without saying good morning. It… it isn’t warm if you aren’t beside me like usual”, he said as his grip tightened around you two. His arms covered you and him twice. How hard did his feelings just got hurt because of not being beside him when he woke up?

Your heart was pounding with the feelings Luffy was showing to you. “Sorry Luffy, I’ll make sure to stay beside you when you wake up”, you hugged him back.

He pulled back a little and said, “Good morning”.

That made you to giggle. “Good morning Luffy”.

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!!

#one piece #my writing #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #mugiwara no luffy #opla luffy #opla x reader #opla luffy x reader #mini event

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wslydoxy · 2 months

Text

ink-stained hands.

fred weasley x fem!reader

warnings: the readers house isn't specified, and the term princess is used once.

Fred Weasley the ever-charming never-flailing flirt. Always popular around the girls, always having that annoyingly cocky smirk on his face, him and his infuriatingly pretty smile and knee-shaking height. you on the other hand were the girl always writing, always a roll of parchment and ink bottle evident in your hands.

Unbeknownst to you the redhead had a tiny crush on you, "it's microscopical George!" he would defend himself, he just wanted to know why your hands were always filled with books or parchment and as if evidence of them being in your hands prior, ink stains. Whether you acknowledged it or not, when you were in the room the older twin's eyes were always set on you, If it was in curiosity or admiration was unknown to him as well. You just had an aura to you, one that drew him in a way he couldn't explain.

You of course always had seen the redhead and his twin around the school, you saw them yelling in joy after a quidditch game or just after a good prank. A small attraction may have sparked towards the boy but you always swept it under the rug knowing it wouldn't lead anywhere anyway, If only you knew how wrong you were.

No matter how many teasing looks from his friends when you were in the room, it was not enough for the boy to get over his initial nerves to talk to you. but after one extraordinarily good game of quidditch here he was, adrenaline rushing through his veins, in front of your dorm room waiting for you to open the door.

You open the door perplexed, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape “Uh- Fred Weasley, right?” you ask. “Uh yeah, look- listen I see how weird this probably is and I honestly Merlin don't know how else to put this except that you're really pretty and for some reason, you're always distracted writing something or another and it's so infuriatingly attractive how you don't notice anything I do, no matter how I hard I try to get your attention and I think it's adorable how your hands are always stained with the ink you use and how you always have something smart to say in class and how absolutely funny your sarcastic replies are and honestly? I just reallyreallyfancyyou” he spits, chest heaving from the whirlwind of words, saying the last part all in one go.

You look at him eyes fully open, you haven't quite fully processed what the redhead said, after a moment you slowly, quietly question “You fancy..me?” you say your left hand pointing to him then yourself. “Um yeah? is that okay?” he questions his resolve melting slightly with your extended reaction time. “That is more than okay, that is great if u ask me, I would totally love to be liked by you because I totally maybe kinda fancy you too?” you say voice going quiet by the end of the sentence.

By the end of your sentence, you look up to see Fred with a completely cocky smile and his usual confident front back “You fancy me too? How perfect, care to tell me how exactly I caught your eye over a cup of butterbeer this weekend?” the boy is full on leaning on your door frame at this point, quidditch robes still on and quite honestly looked hot right now. “How can I say no to that,” you said smiling up at him. “I'll see you this weekend for the date. and tomorrow for breakfast too? Or will I see you at the after-game party tonight?” he asked joy glazing his features due to your acceptance of the date.

You gave yourself a once over in your pyjamas and messy hair and then shifted your eyes up at him eyes squinted and mouth in a straight line, “Yeah about that, I don't think I'm in the prettiest state right now.” humour evident in your voice, “I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow and definitely for that cup of butterbeer” “Yeah I'll see you tomorrow y/n” he says smiling and looking at you head to toe, checking you out quite openly.

A voice hauntingly similar to Fred's twin is heard calling for Fred to come to the common room, and party full-on rage as the loud music is deafening. “You better get going then yeah? people are waiting for you” you smile beckoning him to go, “yeah I should,” he pauses looking you in the eye “I think you look pretty damn cute, even in your pj's princess” the endearing term whispered leaving you with a slight blush dusting your features, and he was gone before you could reply.

With a shake of your head and an airy laugh, you close the door and go to bed with an ever-present smile just to not sleep most of the night, going over the earlier events that had unfolded seemed to keep you up. Smile still gracing your features as you went to breakfast the next morning, and if you put a little extra effort into your hair and makeup just to have it all messed up in the room of requirement by a certain redhead, no one had to know.

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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darling--angst-archived · 9 months

Note

Hii! congrats on 100 followers!! May I have Sports, (1), Ranpo, Romantic, maybe reader feels sad/lonely due to not exactly feeling as though she deserves ranpo's love so he confronts her about how she seems blue

Sports

Pairing: Ranpo x Civilian! Reader

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Warnings: kissing

Synopsis: The summer came and it was really stressful for the agency, things went on as usual but Ranpo felt that something was wrong with his lover, and he was right.

A/n: This idea is so cute! I really had fun writing this :)

Event // Ada. Masterlist // M.Masterlist

The hot summer breeze passed through the open windows of the agency and the complaints of the the members are all you can hear.

"Kunikidaa! Can you set the temperature a little lower?" Ranpo complained from his desk, a mini fan just beside his sweating face.

"I'm afraid not Ranpo-kun, we have to spend less since our budget is a little off because there aren't that many requests that have yet been completed" Kunikida continued typing on his laptop despite his hair being completely completely soaked with his sweat.

"Kunikida-kun!! I'm bored!" Dazai's muffled cries was heard from the lounge, his face planted on the couch. He ignored him but stopped when he heard Yosano step out of the infirmary with her machete on hand.

"Do you need something Yosano-sensei?" He asks slowly turning to face her.

"Does anyone want to go to the mall with me? I have to buy some supplies?"

"Maybe I could go with you, after finishing this document.. but may I ask why do you have your machete with you.?" He asked.

"Well before going I'd like to ask someone if they want treatment" She nonchalantly responded. Everyone except Ranpo and Dazai dropped cold sweat her words before ducking as she made a finger like motion on who to chose. Unfortunately for Kunikida, he was on his chair and he ducked last.

"Hmm... Oh! It seems like you really like my treatment Kunikida..." She smirked before walking towards him.

"Wait-! Yosano-sensei! I still have things to do in my schedule! Please!" He screamed as Yosano dragged him inside the infirmary. After that, everyone let out a sigh they have been holding, not minding his screams.

"hmm... I miss (name)-chan.." Ranpo muttered, his right cheek squashed on the table.

The day went on per usual. Kunikida was shining, with drool slipping past his lips as his chin laid on his desk after Yosano operated on him for 7 times. Dazai was slacking off in the couch, sweat pooling on the cushions. Naomi was clinging onto Tanizaki, their body heat and sweat mixing as she clung onto his side. Kenji and Atsushi were out on a mission about an exploding car. Ranpo was on his desk with his mini-fan and snacks, it was a normal day but he suddenly had a feeling that something is wrong, or that something will go wrong.

It was finally time for clock out. He watched as the clock slowly ticked each second until the bell rang. Grabbing his things, he walked passed Kunikida who was closing his laptop, and met Dazai just by the door, throwing in his coat.

"See you tomorrow everyone!" Dazai hummed before completely walking out the Agency. Ranpo didn't even say goodbye to them, he rushed out, only throwing in his hat, he left; earning confusion from many.

"Hmm.. something's wrong with Ranpo-kun.." Tanizaki stated.

"Maybe an emergency? Anyway let's get that cake from last time Jun'ichirō!" Naomi tossed herself into him, getting both of them out of balance. The other agency members didn't mind them and continued to leave with the same thought: "is Ranpo really okay? Did he and (name) argue?"

Ranpo walked on the sidewalk of Yokohama to his and his lover's shared apartment. His heads was filled with thoughts on what may be wrong, and before he knew it, he reached his destination. Opening the door, he stumbles on a table of untouched food, covered by a cloche. He muttered a small "I'm home" before he removed his shoes and hung his coat on the hanger, looking around, he saw no signs of you. He started to panic now, he was about to barge inside the bedroom until he heard your footsteps. You opened the door to see Ranpo with opened and wide eyes.

"Oh hey love welcome home" you tried your best to smile and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah.." It was the only thing he said before he followed you to the dining area. He thought that he was too paranoid but he couldn't help but notice the smudged concealer below your eyes. He never said anything about it, afraid that his suspicious are true, hoping to have something prove him wrong.

The dinner was quiet. The only sounds are the utensils hitting the plate and the small buzzing of the florescent light hanging on the ceiling. You were now cleaning, as you picked up his plate to clean the dishes he stopped you.

"Is something wrong, dear?" He asked you but you only halted from your movements before continuing to put the plate on the sink.

"Yeah, of course! Why would I be not?" You faced him to try smile at him. He stood up and now you were looking at him straight in the eyes.

"You're not." He stated, his hand finding it's way to your cheek, caressing it. You leaned into his hand, feeling his warmth, and you unconsciously smiled before responding:

"I am." You let out a breathless sigh before you flinched as his thumb smudged the concealer beneath your eyes.

"What's this.?" He looked at his thumb and your eyes widened. He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from you.

"it's- it's nothing.!" You slapped his hand away but only then did you realize what you did.

"Your eyes are puffy.. now please tell me what really happened.." He reached for your cheek, wanting to convince you to tell him the truth.

"I... I'm sorry" you ignored his question, more focused on what you did. Hanging your head low, you clenched your fists. Your expression darkened and thoughts ran on your mind: "I'm hurt him... I should've never done that.. now he will leave me! No,nono!". Panicking, your hands trembled and he tried calling your name but you didn't respond.

"Dear.. dear... (name)!" He grabbed you by the shoulder slightly shaking you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Tears unconsciously began to pool up in the corners of your eyes as you looked up and saw him giving you a concerned look on his face.

"Ranpo.?" You muttered and he let out a breathy sigh of relief.

"I know something is wrong.. so please just tell me.?" He confronted you and your breath hitched at his question. "There really is nothing to hide from you, the world's greatest detective—no from Edogawa Ranpo.." you thought to yourself, biting your lower lip.

"Ranpo..." You let out a breathless sigh and he tensed up at your actions.

"Just tell me what's wrong. I'll make sure to fix it.. please" The last part was more like a whisper yet his voice cracked. Your eyes widened at his words and thought: "He really is perfect.. He'll comfort me when I'm upset and he goes out of his way to make sure I feel alright... While I... I do nothing..". Your head hung low once again, biting your lip, and trying to stop the incoming tears that blurred your vision.

"Ranpo.. I love you.. but you deserve someone better.. someone who can solve crimes, who can keep up with your intellect.. and someone who- someone who isn't me" You struggled to say those words but you knew it was the truth. He struggled to find meaning behind your words, his hand never left your shoulder in an attempt to make sure you'll face him.

"Hey.. it doesn't matter that you're job is not related to a detective's work... It never mattered if you can't keep up with my so called intellect—" he said softly, lifting your chin up to look at him, and brushing away the tears that escaped your eyes. You were puzzled with what he's saying but nonetheless, you listened, feeling comfort in him.

"—you're you. And that's what makes me love you. You keep up with my childish antics, you help me understand things I find trivial, and most importantly, because you found a way to love me sincerely.. you saw me as Edogawa Ranpo and not as my title as the World's Greatest Detective" He softly removed a strand of hair from your face, then he gently cupped your cheeks.

"But I-" having tried find your words you tried to speak up but you can't as he already hushed you with a deep and passionate kiss. You closed your eyes tasting a faint taste of sweet candy while feeling butterflies in your stomach. A few seconds passed by before your lips parted, he brushed away some tears that unconsciously left your eyes before leaning his forehead with yours.

"I would be not be the World's Greatest Detective but a fool if I were to let you go" He whispered in your ear before kissing your forehead, cheeks, and the back of your hand in a gentleman-like-manner.

"Now let's go I'm sleepy!" He leaded you to your shared bedroom by the hand.

"But what about the dishes-?" Before you could protest he hushed you by saying:

"The dishes can wait for tomorrow, I can't!" With that you gleefully smiled at him.

That night both of you slept in each other's embrace, cuddling below the blanket, using one another as your personal pillow. You felt warm and secure around Ranpo and he felt the same with you. He doesn't know what he'll do in life without you and you don't know how you will be without him.. You two really are perfect for each other.

A/n: When I was writing this the whole idea was so fluffy and sweet hile my earphones was playing intense violin concertos/op by Tchaikovsky..

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remusluvr · 1 year

Text

in my feelings | remus lupin

summary: you realize just how much you love Remus. content warning: female reader, argument (kind of), sappy love, p in v, fingering, implied first time, no usage of (y/n), i love you's, angst, not edited

He can't help but stare at you. Your hair is falling over your face as you write away at your essay. It's due tomorrow and he doesn't want to distract you so he stays quiet as you finish up. He cherishes these times with you, the comfortable silence. He watches you carefully and he swears it just slips from his lips, "I love you. You know that?"

You look up from your essay with wide eyes. He immediately feels regret seep into his veins. It weighs him down as he waits for you to say something. Your lips pull into a thin line and he watches as you take a deep breath before looking down.

It's the equivalent of being shot right through the heart, he thinks. The way you looked at him like you wanted to say it but won't. He doesn't want to rush you. Not at all. But it has been seven months and how he hasn't said it before is surprising to him.

"Rem," you start, looking back up from the floor. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at you. You lose your train of thought or he thinks you do as you sit up and gather the parchment in front of you.

"I didn't say it so that you'd leave," he murmurs, embarrassed that he confessed something so vulnerable only to be rejected. However, he doesn't stop you from packing your things up and into your backpack. And he doesn't stop you from leaving because he knows he can't make you love him back.

Remus doesn't know how to feel. All he wants is to take it back and pretend like it never happened but he can't. And he can't stop picturing the look on your face after he had said it. It pains him and he runs a hand down his face, grabbing his bag and leaving to go back to his dorm.

His body still feels heavy the next morning and he can't get out of bed, not even after James tried to give him a 'Potter Peptalk.' Remus hadn't told them about what happened but James and Sirius had assumed it had something to do with you. He never got like this about anyone else. It's weird what love does to a person.

All James can do is run a hand through Remus's hair, patting his back and telling him to feel better. Remus is glad when they leave the dorm. He knows he shouldn't be missing classes over this but he is.

You notice his absence immediately after trying to find him at breakfast. You hadn't meant to fuck things up this bad. It was the only thing on your mind. He looked so dejected after you couldn't say it back. You cursed yourself when you had gotten back to your dorm room, ignoring the looks from your roommates as you slinked into your bed.

His absence was even more noticeable during the classes you had together. James covered for him, saying he was feeling under the weather but you knew better and from the side eye you got from James, he also knew better. You wonder if he told his friends what happened.

It's difficult to get through a class without him. Usually, he's right beside you, cracking jokes and writing notes on your spare papers. You miss him.

Your chest feels like it's being crushed at the thought of never having that again. Now, while you can't exactly say the words, you know what you feel. And you're going to have to figure out a way to tell Remus or else you'd lose him and you can't lose Remus.

Skipping the rest of your classes, you trek up to the Gryffindor dorms. Tears prick at your eyes as you walk closer to his room and you have to take a moment to yourself outside of his door before walking in, willing yourself not to cry and make him feel worse.

He's chainsmoking out of one of the windows when you walk in. His eyes flicker over to the door, halting as they fall onto you. You don't know what to do, how to fix it.

"Hi," is what you start with. He gives you a tight-lipped smile before turning back to the window. You want to throw up everywhere at his dismissal. Walking over to him, you pluck the cigarette from his fingers, stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Those things are bad for you."

"Sorry," he mumbles. Your bag slides off your shoulder and you toss off your uniform robe, throwing it over top of your bag.

"Remus, I am so sorry about yesterday a-"

"You don't have to apologize. It's fine, I'm just not feeling very well today," he sighed, reaching for another cigarette.

You're not sure why you're having so much trouble saying the words he wants to hear. It's not that you don't love him. It would be a greater feat to not love him. He's so caring. Always carrying your books for you, making sure you eat, checking up on you when you're more off than usual, letting you cuddle into him when you can't sleep at night, buying you things when you go to Hogsmeade together. The list could go on forever.

You clear your throat, looking down at the ground as you will yourself to say it. If you say it then it means that this is real. That you and Remus are really real.

"I love you," you breathe and he whips his head toward you. You're still staring at the floor.

"You don't have to say it. Really, it's okay."

"No, Remus. I love you," you affirm, looking up at him. He's already stubbing out his cigarette and moving to you. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. Tears are welling in your eyes and all you want is for him to say it back. You want to know that everything is fixed and that he still loves you. Your lip quivers with the effort you're using to not cry.

"You mean it? You're not just saying it because you feel bad?" He can feel all the unease and heaviness leave his body when you nod, smiling at him. He swallows before closing the gap between you and him.

He's been aching for you, for your presence. You're glad to be hugging him again, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, "I love you too."

He backs you up to his bed, pushing you back onto it. He smiles down at you as he hovers over top of you. Your chest feels shaky as he stares at you and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to help you focus on something else.

Things between you and Remus have not surpassed a heavy make-out session. But now feels different. It is different.

He's messing with you by just looking at you. But before you can even begin to process that thought, his lips are on yours and his hand is hiking one of your legs up so he's more comfortable laying on top of you. Your high on him as your hands grab the sides of his face to keep him held to you. He tastes like cigarettes and chocolate. What else could you expect from him?

"Need you," you sigh into his mouth and he pulls away from you, the opposite of what you wanted. His lips are swollen and you lick yours subconsciously. You pout up at him and it's all that he needed. His mouth is on yours again and his hands are pulling at your uniform, untucking your shirt and pulling the tie from around your neck.

Your hands are equally as grabby with the way they're tugging at his shirt, a shirt you had gotten him for his birthday a few months back. You smile into the kiss and feel him smile back. He pulls back from you again but it doesn't last long as he lets you readjust closer to the headboard of the bed.

His chest is heaving as he watches you shimmy the rest of the way out of your skirt. You eye him as he runs a hand through his hair. Remus can't believe the sight in front of him - you in your bra and underwear, hands reaching for him to drag him towards you. He doesn't let you go without him for long, just as desperate to be close to you.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles into your mouth, free hand cupping at your breast. You whine into his mouth in return and he nearly dies inside. His hand trails down, slipping under the hem of your underwear. He watches your face as he rubs circles on your clit, a way of asking if you're okay. You're more than okay with the way you're leaning into him. His fingers trace your entrance before slipping in, loving the way you take a quick inhale through your nose.

"Remmy," you moan as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His lips are sucking marks into your neck and your brain is fuzzy. Your hands are pinned beside you but you will them to move and you pull at the hem of his own pants.

"Oh god," he breathes into your neck and you feel bad, taking your hand away. You didn't want to do anything he didn't want to do and the sudden lack of you worries him enough to stop the attack on your neck. "What's wrong?"

His fingers still in you and you whine, pushing yourself down onto his fingers, "Remus. Need you, please."

He understands. His pants are off instantly as he takes a moment to kiss you again before taking his boxers off too. You're worried to say the least. He's big and your gaze flickers from him to him.

"I'll go slow. Promise," he smirks down at you, pulling your underwear down your legs. He keeps his promise, pushing in slowly and staying like that until you tell him to go. Your hands are tangled in his hair and his face is pressed into your neck again.

It's desperate and needy the way you two are grabbing at each other. He can't get enough of you as he thrusts into you, soaking in the way you squirm beneath him. It wasn't a secret that he wasn't going to last very long and he's close before he even knows it.

"R-R-" you moan out and he shushes you, helping you chase that high. Your fingers claw at his back and still when you come, eyes rolling back and moans unabashedly leaving your mouth. He doesn't last long with the way your cunt is squeezing him and he fills you.

He stays lying on top of you for a few moments before rolling over, chest still heaving. You're sleepy and already missing him. You roll over with him, leg tossed over his stomach and head resting on his chest, his hand idly running through your hair.

"How you feeling, baby?"

"Good, a little gross though. Can I use your shower?" you ask, looking up at him. He's definitely gone to heaven or he's dreaming. There's just no way any of that happened and now he has you in his arms.

"Can I join?"

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dreadsuitsamus · 16 days

Text

Daddy's Little Secret | Isshin Kurosaki x Reader |

part two

author's note: this idea has been in my head for a good while now, and i've finally decided to write it! there won't be much of a story in this, as i plan each chapter to be a sexual encounter between isshin and reader

pairing: isshin kurosaki x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, no explicit smut but it is sexual and suggestive, masturbation, voyeurism, age gap, reader is a few years older than ichigo

“Are you sure this is okay, Ichigo?” You murmur as he leads you up the pathway of his home, the younger man carrying your bags for you. “I don't wanna just barge in… You haven't even asked your dad if it's cool—”

“Dad’s not gonna care.” Ichigo shakes his head. “He'd rather you stay on our couch than in your car on the street. It's okay. Just trust me.”

Sighing, you follow your friend inside and slip your shoes off politely. Your housing situation has hit a bit of a snag and you're officially, though hopefully temporarily, homeless. Ichigo's to the rescue as always, however, and was quick to give you a warm helping hand, just as he was when you first met him. Being a bartender is wonderful, but the drawbacks such as rowdy, creepy drunks tend to call for more forceful measures than your best holler can provide. Luckily for you, Ichigo has a helluva right hook and you've been friends ever since!

Setting your bags down, Ichigo starts a quick tour of the house. You've met his family before, as the bar you work for is also a restaurant, but you've never been to the Kurosaki household. It's surprisingly well-put together despite the chaotic relationship of Ichigo and his father, though it's likely due to Ichigo's younger sisters, if you had to guess.

“My dad's not home yet, but he should be here soon with my sisters.” Ichigo murmurs as he grabs some linens from the hall closet; tonight the couch will have to do for him, as he's a gentleman and will absolutely give up his room for you, but he'll arrange to stay with his sweet girl Orihime for a little while starting tomorrow. He's not looking forward to it: how his father naps on that lumpy, uncomfortable old couch so easily is a mystery!

“Thank you, Ichigo.” You murmur softly. “I'll try to get out of your hair soon.”

Your friend merely waves a hand and sets the sheet and blankets on the arm of the couch before grabbing the remote and turning the television on. The mind-numbing cartoon isn't performing for you, however, as your heart thrums in anticipation. Ichigo's father, Isshin Kurosaki, doesn't seem like he'd mind your presence, but the worry remains. You know you'd certainly have some feelings about such an unexpected guest!

Your poor heart nearly pops when the sound of voices at the front door get louder upon entry, and Ichigo stands to meet his family, lest his father say or do something embarrassing before you've even been announced. Yuzu rushes to her older brother's arms as Karin spots you, perking a thin brow. Ichigo doesn't tend to bring friends home, especially not since he started college.

“What's up?” She cuts her eyes to her older brother, and Ichigo explains more to Isshin, who is oddly quiet, rather than Karin.

“She needs a place to stay for a little while.”

Isshin nods, turning to look at you. He's as handsome as ever, his stubble grown out a tad more than it was the last time you'd seen him at the bar, and his smile is gorgeous and polite, though you can't escape the feeling of it being more muted than you're used to. “Stay as long as you need to. Any friend of Ichigo's is always welcome here.”

“Thank you, sir.” Your cheeks warm, relief washing down your shoulders. Gazing at your wrist to check the time, you sigh softly. “I’ve got to get ready for my shift tonight.”

“I'll walk you to your car.” Ichigo offers, and waits patiently as you wash up and change into your uniform. Isshin settles onto the couch beside his only son, thumbing at the stack of linens to be used for his temporary bed tonight.

“You know I don't mind taking in your friend.” He starts, voice low in the event you come downstairs and overhear him. “I just would've appreciated a heads up.” Unsaid is that he would've used that advance notice to fix his hair up before you saw him, and perhaps undone a button or two on his shirt.

“Sorry, Dad.” Ichigo murmurs. “Her roommate dropped the bomb on her last night that she had to leave. We spent all day moving her things to a storage unit.”

Isshin rubs at his chin, gently tugging at the bit of stubble. He's gotta shave tonight, he thinks. “You givin’ your room up?”

“Yeah.”

Isshin claps his hand on his son's shoulder. He's raised a good man, one that he's incredibly proud of! He squeezes for a brief moment before pulling away just as you come downstairs, dressed in your simple work uniform. High-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the bar’s name splashed over the front and tucked into your waistband make for a pretty sight, especially with the low cut that provides Isshin with a hearty eyeful of cleavage. It's what deters him from visiting your bar more often; his daughters don't need to see how much their pervy father longs to faceplant in between your breasts.

Ichigo and his father stand and your eyes flit to gaze at the older man. “I’ll be back around 2:30. I'll be quiet, I promise!”

“You couldn't wake Dad if you tried.” Ichigo deadpans. Isshin's cheeks warm at your giggles, and he tackles Ichigo to the ground. Embarrassing his own father right in front of an absolute babe??? Unforgivable!

“Dad, come on!” Karin shouts, scrambling to intervene now. With a guest over??? Her dad has lost his mind!

Grinning softly at the madness, Karin having been sucked into the wrestling while Yuzu rushes in with a broom to smack at them all, the heels of your boots click on the hardwood as you head for the door. Your stay here certainly won't be dull!

With a sigh, you tiredly park your car outside of the Kurosaki home. Work was rough, and nothing sounds more wonderful than a hot shower and some rest, and maybe even a sandwich if you can stay awake long enough.

You're met at the door by Isshin, who presses a gentle finger over his lips as the sounds of Ichigo's snores ring out. Laughing softly as the older man winks, you slip your boots off at the door. “You're up pretty late.”

“Insomnia.” Isshin shrugs casually and follows you up the stairs, shamelessly staring at your ass the whole way up. “Heard your car pull up. Wanted to make sure you got in safely.”

“Ah.” At the top of the landing, you pause for a moment with Isshin just across from you, his henley and plaid pajama pant combo somehow striking. Perhaps batting your lashes more than you should be at a friend's father, you lick your lips, teeth slowly dragging along the flesh of your bottom lip. “Thank you, Mr. Kurosaki.”

“Isshin. After hours, anyway.” He tucks his hands in his pockets with a shrug, perking a brow at the embarrassing admission from your stomach. “Hungry, hm?”

Cheeks fiery and the tip of your nose and ears burning, you duck your head. “Mm… A little. Ichigo and I had some lunch earlier, but that's all I had to eat. Besides a few fries at the bar, anyway.” And an iced coffee to start the morning!

Isshin shakes his head. “Girl dinner.” He grumbles with a scoff and an eye roll— he's treated too many women that hardly eat at all and then complain about headaches! Turning to start back down the steps, Isshin waves a hand. “I’ll warm up the dinner leftovers.”

Covering your mouth to hide a giggle, you venture into Ichigo's bedroom and rifle around your messily packed suitcases for a fresh pair of panties and pajamas. Exhaustion weighs down your bones and a big yawn leaves you damn near spent, though you power through enough to grab a thong and a tank top to get you through the night. Everyone should be out of the house by the time you wake up to start your day, so the worries of anyone catching a peek of your cheeks don't settle.

Rubbing your tired eyes as the shower warms, you sigh with pleasure as the hot water spreads and soothes the ache between your shoulders. Life has been nothing but stressful lately, this recent move only the cherry on top the shitshow mountain. College is hard, work is unfulfilling and the tip money only barely covers the bills, and your sex life has tanked.

Thinking about sex as you run the soapy washcloth over your breasts probably isn't the best idea, but it doesn't stop your other hand from the pinches and tugs of your nipples to relieve some of the pressure. Leaning against the shower wall, your teeth dip into your lip as your fingers do a bit of walking. It's nothing but a tease, a shallow dipping of your fingers to feel the wetness gathering between your folds. A few soft, breathy gasps pass beyond the thin curtain that veils you, but the man with perceptive brown eyes in the hall pushes the door open just a tad wider than you'd left it to peer into that gap.

Isshin smirks softly, licking his lip as he watches you touch yourself. He's wanted a piece of you since he first saw you, as forbidden of an idea as that is. You're his son's friend! He can't. Even if you wanted to, and he thinks you do, it can't happen. That's a line he can't cross… He's too old for you, anyway.

Though as he watches you slowly rub your clit and toy with your breasts, he's sure that this old dog could show you the best night of your life. With a wistful sigh and a firm squeeze to his cock, Isshin heads downstairs before he's caught perving and fixes your plate of dinner properly.

Biting your lip through a grin, you're quickly out of the shower and drying off before Isshin's back upstairs. Of course that old man's the type to peep in on a young woman's shower! You laid the trap and he walked right into it— what a typical doofus of a man.

You've just slipped into your thong when you hear Isshin moving upstairs again, and you purposely ditch the tank top in favor of looping the towel over your shoulders, your breasts just barely covered by the blue cotton as Isshin turns the corner with a warm plate of food in hand and heads for Ichigo's bedroom.

Two gentle taps of his knuckle on the bedroom door are all you get before he's letting himself in, and for a moment he falters at the sight of you. He really should have taken that melatonin tonight… You're before him in a skimpy thong with only a teeny tiny towel over your breasts, and he has to act like he's fine. Like he's not ready to pounce and pound you into pure oblivion. He can't.

This being a father thing is so damn difficult!

Finding the pause cute and the dumb look on Isshin's face even cuter, you smirk gently and approach him with a swish in your hips. His Adam's apple bobs when you're so close to him he can see the few beads of water on your collarbone, and fuck he wants to lick them away and leave a bite or two…

“Something on your mind?” You practically purr at him, and aren't you just awful! Flirting with your friend's father, the one with a dead wife and three kids he's had to raise by his lonely…

Carefully, the man licks his lips and forces himself to look you in the eye, and frankly he's not sure if that pretty face is making his little problem in his pants any better. “No.”

Reaching up, the backs of your fingers gently graze over the side of his face. “That's a shame… Would've loved to hear all about it. I'm sure you've got some… Interesting ideals.”

A growl forms at the back of Isshin's throat, low and deep and the glint in your eye at the sound just makes him want to tug that towel off and—

Well, now you've gone and done that part for him.

Dropping the towel to the floor, you rub Isshin's jaw, his beard noticeably trimmed down to the way he usually likes it. “You shaved. It looks nice.”

“Just nice?” Isshin sets the plate on the desk, his fingers itching to touch your supple skin as he loops them around the thin bands of your thong, his thumbs rubbing the silky fabric. “Not sexy? Ravishing, even? How about a place you'd like to sit?”

A chuckle bubbles in your chest alongside the fireworks going off inside. The door's wide open and it's three in the morning, any of his kids are liable to get up and use the bathroom at any time! Pressing your hands to his chest, you find him firmer than you thought he'd be. “What makes you think I need something like that from you?”

Isshin clicks his tongue, snapping your thong against your skin as you softly push him away. “My bad for assuming. I just thought with, you know, the way you touched yourself in the shower that you've been a bit pent up.” With a wink and a shit-eating grin, Isshin's closing the door behind him and heading back to his bedroom.

Goosebumps litter your body, and that sly little smile doesn't leave your lips even after you've finished eating and settle in for bed. It's been one night and you've already nearly fucked your friend's father— it's not a matter of if now. Just when.

And will you be able to hide it from Ichigo?

#isshin kurosaki x reader #isshin kurosaki x you #isshin x you #isshin x reader #bleach x reader #bleach imagine #fic #x reader #reader insert

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 17 days

Note

Hiya!! (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) I love your stories and your OCs a lot and i read them everyday. Especially loving your Damon, Knoxx, and Eros 😘. Would you mind to write a scenario when Y/n teasingly calling them "husband" one day when talking to their friends like : "Oh, me and my husband just doing something" and their reaction to that lol. Thank you very much (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Yandere! Jock, cowboy, and Villain with their darling calling them "husband"

This is really cute djadjasdja like if ya'll watch tiktok, you know that one trend where the gf "mistakenly" calls their boyfriend husband? THATTTT I like that trend. It's sweet and cute (except for that one viral boyfriend who obviously hated it. I felt bad for the girl ;-;)

YAN! JOCK

Damon was a bit inebriated that day.

After the gruelling day's work of grinding his ass off, proving to his coach that you aren't a bad influence on his sports career, all he wanted to do is lie by your side and kiss your soft, supple cheek. Maybe cuddle, touch... Run his rough, calloused fingers down your skin, tease the hem of your shirt...

He tenses, feeling the blood rush between his legs. He needs to calm down if he doesn't want to scare you into ignoring him again.

Ah, those days were quite painful.

Speaking of, did he feed Venus that day? He can't remember.

Drinking more of the beer one of his teammates offered, he wiped his lips dry. They were celebrating the fact that they got in the preliminaries for the national team. Just one more step and--

"Pah!" Damon exclaimed, his throat bubbling deliciously from the froth. "That's a good beer. Hmm~ I want to see my cute darling..." He even used that dastardly nickname he uses for you.

He smashed the can to the floor and stood up, excited to find you. "Don't you dare all follow me. I want to see my darling alone." He threatened to his teammates who only chuckled at his antics.

He skipped towards the Education building, drunk and confidently giddy. He doesn't care if he's caught drunk, but he just wants to see you.

Then, there you are. Talking to your friends who were asking for help in their Lesson Plans.

"Darling!" His eyes lit up like lights blaring down, bounding towards you. The ground shook a bit even due to the sheer force of his powerful legs and weight. "I miss you..."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, burying his face and nibbling on your outfit a bit.

"Ah..." you blinked, not expecting this. Is he drunk? Well, he smells like it.

The friends flushed red from the sudden display of affection and looked away, excusing themselves as they decided to run away. Annoyed, you looked at Damon. It's the first time you saw him drunk.

Wanting to tease him a bit, you gave him a gentle pet on the head and hummed. "I miss you too, my husband."

He froze, his whole body rigid as your words took 10 seconds to register.

You just said husband, right?

He looked up at you. And sure enough, you are giving him an affectionate, almost domestic look as you hummed a bit. "My husband is so drunk. Hah, I don't really like drunk people."

Oh god. He's sober now. He cleared his throat, washing his face with his hands. He can feel the heat running through his body and to his neck, then his face.

"Ah... W-wife..." He whispered, holding your hand. He feels extremely shy now, but really happy.

YAN! COWBOY

Knoxx has just finished feeding all of his horses.

It's been a long day of rounding up his animals, patrolling the whole town, talking with the mayor, interacting with the residents, helping them with their shit...

Knoxx can't even take a break.

Seriously, who's the sheriff or mayor here again? It sure ain't him.

"Sorry, boy." He whispered as he caresses the mane of his horse, Red. "I didn't mean to neglect ya. We'll have our walk tomorrow mornin'. How's that sound?"

As if to answer, Red whinnied and huffed out air from his nostrils.

Knoxx felt his body ache from the whole day of activities. All he wants is to rest on his bed, sleep, and dream of nothing. He looked down at his muddy work boots and pondered if there's something he forgot.

"Ah shit... Darlin..." Knoxx groaned, feeling ashamed that he forgot about you.

He can feel the bile rising to the back of his throat. It's a date night too. And it's already 7pm, way past the meeting time. His skin crawled from the cold air and the quiet air. He just knew he fucked up.

He slowly slid down to the floor, burying his face on his knees. He's so overwhelmed that it's not even funny for the usually calm man. He can feel his ears ring, his heart hurting from the fact that he forgot about you. Fuck this day, fuck the mayor, fuck the people, and fuck himself for forgetting you.

He can imagine your disappointment painting your face as you thought he stood you up, waiting in your beautiful dress as the people wondered where he is. His fingers and toes curled as he buried his face deeper to his knees.

He'll just explain to you tomorrow. What time will the florist be open again? Also, where is his mother's cookie recipe sheet?

He shakily stood up, chuckling weakly at Red's attempt to nuzzle him. "Not now boy. Dad's kind of... Sad. I stood up your mom." Red whinnied again, perking at the word mom and started looking for you.

Knoxx sighed again and pat Red once more before walking outside of the building.

As he sluggishly opened the door to his home, he froze when he realized it's unlocked. And is that stew he smells?

He looked down to remove his shoes and froze again. A pair of shoes. Shoes that are so familiar. He trembled.

Not bothering to remove them entirely at the front, he stumbled as he ran to the kitchen. His heavy footsteps echoing on the floorboards as it creaked.

And there you are, stirring the stew you cooked with a smile on your face.

"Hi Knoxx." You giggled, a bit shy. "I saw how much you ran around the town today. ANd I kind of knew that you're not gonna be able to attend our date. So I decided to surprise you by cooking. You were working so hard too."

You wiped your hands on the apron and approached him. You gently grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks. Instantly, Knoxx melted at your gentle touch and leaned to his left, the stress leaving his visage.

"Wife..." He muttered lowly, making you blink and chuckle.

"Husband..?" You said, a bit unsure but giggling at the face he showed.

Red, shocked, shy, and happy. The previous look in which he looked like the world collapsed on him, was exchanged with a look that says that you're the most precious thing in the world.

YAN! VILLAIN

Eros has done it again.

He threatened Yuno once more because of his stupid mouth.

It was just supposed to be a nice, relaxing cup of tea with the Empress. She just wants to catch up, see if she can weasel her way into how's Eros' mind work. After all, with Yuno's position as a crown prince being shook due to the scandal, the Empress wanted to see if there's a way to make her son the crown prince again and not that arrogant Callisto.

But the Empress found herself trembling at the presence of Eros. He may be lowkey these past few months, but he's still a warlord of intelligent standards. That cold, calculated look in her eyes always struck fear in her. She also remembered how Eros exposed his own mother, a pedophile, and had her executed sadistically with a rusty axe.

The Empress then discreetly called for Yuno, excused herself, then placed Yuno in that uncomfortable spot to "reconcile".

What's there to reconcile when Yuno's ex-fiancee is rumored to be dating the Duke?

Yuno was trembling as he watched Eros sip his tea calmly, a bloodthirsty glint in Eros' eyes.

"Yuno, may I know what's going on in your head?" A line of a polite man, but the distant coldness in his tone was surfacing. Yuno gulped and decided to talk his annoying mouth again.

"So, y/n..."

Eros gripped the teacup in his hand. small cracks forming.

"Yes?"

"Did they seduce you that much? Or are they pregnant that you have to take responsibility?"

The sound of broken porcelain, a terrified shriek, and the sudden influx of dark mana spreading around the vicinity of the greenhouse.

"Do not talk to y/n like that." Eros gravely tone came out. "I do not like filthy pigs like you being hypocritical about the situation."

"B-but how did the two of you even know each other? There's no other way to explain it really. They were really head over heels with me too!" Arrogant yet wrong, Yuno blurted out stupidly and that made Eros even angrier.

And that's how he found himself. His arm, with pulsing veins running across the muscular appendage, wound itself on Yuno's collar. His eyes filled with bloodthirsty rage that one cannot fathom the depth of the emotions in them.

The air was full of tension. As if one wrong move will make Eros ballistic.

Then, the door opened and a familiar voice made Eros falter slightly.

"Yes, your imperial Majesty..." You inwardly sighed. You were just supposed to visit the Imperial library to know more if there are other cases of reincarnation like you. But the Empress knew of your entry and had to rush off to where you are to convince (command) you to talk to Yuno. Talk about luck. "I will talk to Yuno..."

When your eyes finally landed in front, you froze from the scene in front of you. The air was thick with dark mana too that you can even feel some pour inside of you despite not intaking them. That's how thick it is.

And you saw Yuno suffocating from the dense mana that seems to clash with his. So, in a panic in not making Eros a royal murderer and you an accomplice, you rushed towards the still Eros and tackled him in a hug.

"My loving husband! You're here! I've been looking everywhere for you!" You can feel sweat pouring on your back as your lips trembled from telling those words.

You somehow know that Eros adored you greatly. Maybe romantically. Well, not maybe. You know that he's deeply attached to you for some reason. You had suspicions that he remembers the past too, so you have to get close to him no matter what.

Even if it meant being brash like this.

Yuno's jaw slacked, his eyes wide. Husband? The fuck you mean husband?

"COUGH! COUGH!" Yuno coughed out saliva and spittle when Eros' grip loosened and he fell to the ground. He looked at you once more, betrayal on his face. "W-what do you mean husband?!"

Eros finally moved. He moved in front of you protectively and held your hand. "Yes. Husband. We were supposed to announce it at a later date, but we got married secretly. An elopement if you will." Eros lied smoothly. But gods is his heart pumping so fast that it's embarrassing.

He doesn't know why you called him husband. It honestly confused him. But he loves it so much. It rang true in his ears, and is intending to make it stay that way.

So, with a kiss on your hand, he took you away from that greenhouse with a triumphant, calm smirk on his face.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere fic #yandere x you

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

Hihi could i request a tadc x reader who cries from anger when she's too angry?

TADC cast x reader who cries when angry!

late post for tonight! admin isnt sure how much theyre going to write tonight since theyre sleepy but they still have art stuff they need to work on... sobs.... ill try to make up for it by writing tomorrow! similar post

CAINE:

takes you away from the scene, swiftly giving out an excuse to try to keep your dignity in tact. i think hes the type to rationalize; or at least the best an ai can do, as well as trying to give you a peptalk. he seems like the type to give peptalks, i think..! gives you a handkerchief that he probably has tucked away in there... somewhere.. if not he just. makes one. i think it would be reasonable to believe he can do that. generally does try his best to uplift you but due to him being new to complex funky emotions he can be a little.. eh.. definitely takes some time; lets you do what you need to do to get your feelings out. cry, vent, punch some drywall, sleep, ect ect

POMNI:

oh honey... oh silly, shes so so lost. in the post linked above shes awkward and vaguely uncomfortable when people cry... and i think this would be even more prominent with angry crying because youre dealing with an entire blow out, you know? i think she follows a similar route, though; tries to ask you whats wrong and try patting your back... which may or may not work, i think it depends on the reader..! sometimes soothing back pats can do wonders, you know! i think she would try to ask you what had happened; and though she cant offer the... best comfort or solutions, she does at least try to listen

RAGATHA:

queen of comfort, she lets you do whatever you need to do. like caine i do think she would give you a handkerchief, likely one that she has made herself. hehehe cute patterns ueue.... back on track, i think she would also get mad on your behalf if someone had upset you, or something totally unfair had happened. the shared anger can either make things worse or make you feel like youre not alone; i think this would depend on a case by case basis, you know? takes you off to the side away from prying eyes so no one can see your tears... speaks in very hushed words trying to calm you down even if shes getting angry for you... as level headed as i tend to write ragatha, i think she would be a fairly empathetic person

JAX:

probably the one who pushed you that far in the first place, though i think this is more likely in the beginning since hes still gauging what your limits are... you know since his whole thing is being an annoyance... so hes a little surprised when you finally blow up. it gets. really awkward. because usually people just cry or get mad, never really both. kind of just stands there before trying to defuse the situation, but hes so not used to actually having to be responsible that he kind of sucks at first. overtime, though, i think he gets better... though to be fair he knows your limits and kind of lets up on you, even more so if you guys actually romantically get together... generally very lost and tense because "oh.. wow i actually kind of feel just a little bad"

KINGER:

oh no...! are you hurt? did someone hurt you? did you hurt yourself? whats wrong? whats happening? hes immediately swarming to you as soon as your eyes start watering, and thats assuming hes not already rushing to your side as soon as he sees you just slightly getting upset... this man worries about you enough as is, but it ramps up when youre unhappy. oh course, he takes you to the pillowfort, and even lets you scream in a pillow while he watches in bewilderment and tries to decipher what happened. probably asks you straight up what happened and if youre okay, even if the second question is a little dumb and obvious, but hey... .this man is all over the place right now... lets you stay in his pillowfort as long as you need. obligatory soothing back pats only dads can muster

ZOOBLE:

doesnt outwardly react much the first few seconds, at most you probably see their eyes widen. but if theres someone actively making you upset, or even unintentionally making you upset actually... i think zooble would step in and put a stop to the nonsense. very. harshly. like snappy, you know? does a little scoff before walking away with you, they seem like a scoffer

thinks

doesnt do much in terms of comfort outside of leading you to their room where you guys just chill and listen to music. theyre not oblivious enough to ask the obvious, but they do probably ask in their own way later on if youre feeling any better once some time has passed... not much comment on the tears

GANGLE:

honestly she probably starts crying a little too, be it from shock or from being empathetic to your feelings.... maybe both... hmm... i would say she tries to stand up for you but i just know that it would fail miserably and would likely end in her being down in the dumps... unless she actually truly loses her shit and goes off on someone, akin to the "the devil shivers when a nice guys loses his temper" but instead of a redditor its some sensitive ribbon person losing their marbles. buuuuuuuuut as much as i love the visual of gangle absolutely going off on someone (cough cough jax) i just dont know if shes actually capable of it, at least not as she currently is judging by the pilot... probably tries to tug you away from the scene... lets you make vent art in her room, even leaves so you have some privacy to do so and/or lends you some of her art supplies

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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ashterrope · 11 months

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HIHIHIHIHIHI I LOVE YOUR X READER POST SMM CAN I REQ HSR MENS REACTION WHEN READERS WET???!!!!!!! TYANK YOU

— their reactions when you’re wet

⤷ hsr mens - hc/drabble | ft. Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Gepard.

⤷ tw: Suggestive content, masturbation, tbh unexperienced Blade but he’s a fast learner, fem!reader.

a/n: um.. this has been in my draft for quite sometime, second time writing suggestive stuffs.. *coughs* sorry if this isn’t what you want.

Dan Heng has just came back to the Express from the Xianzhou Luofu, he was feeling pretty exhausted after settling all the Stellaron and his past regards. Everyone from the trip immediately returns to their rooms after the issue was setteled. Well, that was what he think until he heard… some squelching noises came from his room- the data bank. He immediately stops in his tracks while eyes went wide in suprise, your scent could be smelled from miles away and it’s driving him crazy. What if the others could smell your scent? what if they could hear it too? what if- he thought, until he heard your sounds of whining his names being said repeatedly. He wastes no time opening the door, you needs him right now and that’s what all matters to him. The sight he was met caught him by suprise, instead of pleasuring yourself you sat there hopelessly waiting for your lover to come back and pleasure you himself. Dan Heng blushed at your exposed cunt, wanting to be fucked right here right now. And how wet it is for him to insert himself slowly, just looking at you like that already gave him so many dirty fantasies and can’t wait to do all that to you.

Jing Yuan was rarely home to begin with, with his work being the general of the Luofu who needs his undivided attention is pretty hard to find time for the two of you, let alone just being together for a few minutes. It was often you who came to the seat of the divine foresight yourself just to get a glimpse of your lover, but today something was wrong. Jing Yuan is someone who is observant of his surroundings despite having the title of “The Dozing General”. Today you didn’t came to his office and he decided to finish all of his work due tomorrow so that he could have some time with you. The moment when he stepped inside your shared house, all he was met was your muffled screams of his name. He wastes no time rushing inside the bedroom you two have shared since years ago, once he was inside the room he was met with your laying figure, exhausted after trying countless time to make yourself came on your own fingers. Jing Yuan could only chuckle at your pity attempts on satisfying yourself, maybe he was away for too long and gave so little attention to you. Do not worry though because tonight, he will show you how much you truly means to him.

Blade doesn’t really noticed it at first, on how you always shift your gaze, face flushed, and legs trembling. But all he noticed is that there was.. this sound that really picked his curiosity. He’s not really experienced in relationships considering this is his first one to be in a romantic relationship, so don’t expect him to notice it right away. Though as much as he’s embarrassed to admit it, he eventually reached out to Kafka for help. Once he get a better understanding at what was happening, he immediately rushed to you with that stupid smirk on his face. His eyes widen upon seeing you laying on your bed, your essence pooling on your cunt. Blade walked slowly while eyeing you as he did so which got you to be embarrassed by his stare, he was staring at your dripping pussy and then to your face and then back at it. Do not worry though, because he has a better understanding at this kind of stuff thanks to Kafka, he will let you scream out his name the whole night.

Gepard is no wonder a busy man with him always leading the front line banishing the fragmentums. So whenever he is home you will certainly use this moment at its fullest, although today you’re feeling rather wet at the thought of him fucking you against the wall while waiting for him to come back. You were unaware of your surroundings while daydreaming about him fucking you mindlessly, so when he stepped inside your shared home he was met with nothing except for your scent. He reached towards your bedroom and saw you zoning out with a heavy blush on your face, and the fact that he smell your scent proved his suspicion. He knew he was gone for a while but are you this needy for him to the point you’d daydream about him doing those things to you? he’ll make sure to get what you deserved though, he’s been gone for far too long it seems. And he’ll apologize to you by doing whatever the hell you were thinking about.

⤷ taglist :: @crowisinthetrash, @t0x1cw4ste

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year

Text

Chapter three— in all fairness

Au Masterlist!!

Philippe sat on the couch, the stubbornness of his daughter racking his brain as he tried to give her a bottle, his attempt lasting nearly twenty minutes and was fuelled with agony, “Flo, baby, you gotta eat my girl” he whispered as he bounced her on his knee, “your mama makes this look so easy.” The little girl stared at him for a second, her eyes glossing over as she stared at the bottle in his hand, her bottom lip wobbling as Phil tried to work the nipple of the bottle past her lips, “please no tears baby,” he mumbled to her as she whisked her up into his arms loud wails coming from her as he rubbed her back. “Where’s my smiley girl?” he asked while pulling her away from him to look her in the eyes, the cries slowly dying off as her tiny hands find the plush of his cheeks and squeeze, a smile growing as he pulls her back into his chest to places kisses all over her face, “There she is,” he says in between kisses.

“I get why people say you get your stubbornness from me,” he said grabbing the bottle again to attempt to feed her once again. “It's easy,” the young woman said from the doorway, startling Philippe, “You just have to let her hold it herself, she’s recently discovered independence” “Oh thank god you’re home,” “Yeah yeah,” the girl smiled as she dropped her bags on the ground to grab Flo from the man who was now in a hurry to get to campus, “go to class, have a good practice tell the media team I miss them” “I owe you my life,” he said as he kissed his daughter on the cheek before handing her over, then he placed a quick kiss to her mother's temple before searching for his car keys. “What's new” the girl mumbled as she sat down on the couch with Flo resting against her chest.

She grabbed the bottle off of the coffee table and smiled as she sat Flo up on her lap and placed the bottle in the little girl's hands, “now little Miss, time to eat” she said as they watched Phil triumphantly find the keys and run out of the house in a rush to make it on time class. Her phone lit up, a notification reminding her about an essay due the next day that she had completely forgotten about, “Oh shit” anxiety grew in her chest as she reached for her phone to look at the assignment, “fuck, okay” she groaned as she hiked Florence up on her hip to go and grab her computer and textbooks.

“Hey, sweets!” A voice behind her startled her as she entered the kitchen. “Holy fuck Jay you scared the shit out of me,” she said breathlessly as she looked at the three boys who all smiled back at her. Her eyes travelled down from Jay’s face to his shirt, her brows furrowed at the ‘I love hot moms’ in big bold writing across his chest, “you like my shirt, I wore it with you in mind” the man smiled innocently as Nolan high-fived him, the two of them ignoring the woman’s loud scoffs. “This is why Nick is my favourite” She pointed to the quietest guy who now sat on the couch as the group of four found themselves working their way towards the living room, Nick looked up from his phone with a small grin and waved at the baby who reached out for him, “see how he sits there smiling and stays quiet?” Nolan put his hand over his heart and pretended to act wounded, going limp and falling into the couch dramatically, “Is this what betrayal feels like?” He questioned as he looked at the woman, hoping she would say something to make him feel a little appreciated. “Suck it” Nick mumbled as she passed him the baby.

“You look tired,” Jay said in a serious tone as he passed her the coffee they had picked up for her on the way over, “Here.” “I just remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow in my child development class” She frowned and stood up from the couch in search of her laptop that she had meant to grab before they showed up, “I'm stressed, but Flo is due for a nap so I'm hoping to start it then,” the woman gave a defeated shrug as she settled back onto the couch “Hey, we will take Flo with us to practice, make Truss watch her while we all practice,” Nick said softly as he took the baby from the mat on the floor and placed her on his chest as he took her little hands and started to play with her. “That’s not fair to him.” “The idiot is out on an injury and still has to go to the mandatory practices if anything you’re doing him a favour and relieving him of boredom,” Nolan said with a scoff, the boys loved when she visited, it kept morale high so her visit would help the team and Jacob out a lot more than they let on.

“Can you at least text and ask him first before I send my child off with him? I don’t want to just assume he’s okay with it” she asked as she looked over to Jay who was already on it. “Give me two seconds,” he said walking into the kitchen to call him.

Nolan smiled as Nick handed him the baby, a smile on her face as she ran her chubby hands over his moustache, “I think that's a sign to shave” “She loves it” he smiled as the baby yawned and rested her little head against his shoulder, “do you need anything before we go?” “No no, I just need some quiet” she grinned watching as they pretended to be offended by her words. Jay came into the room and gave everyone a thumbs up, pointing to his phone to let the boys know that they needed to leave in order to make it to practice in time, “want us to drop you off at the library?” Nolan asked as the woman stood up to help them get Flo ready, she shook her head and grabbed a warm set of pyjamas from Florence's freshly clean laundry basket “Okay, let us know if you need anything and we'll make sure Phil gets it”

“Thanks Jay” she smiled as she scavenged for a clean pair of baby socks. “Anything for my fav Milf” he joked “Choke,” she said in a dead tone, lightly hitting him in the chest as Nick passed her the baby to change. Jay smirked and watched as she ignored his laughter, “You love me, I know it”

Nick opened the front door, “where’s your car seat?” The girl looked up from the babbling baby, Flo was squirming making it hard to change her “You’re a hundred percent sure that he’s okay with it” “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, read his texts” Jay said as he grabbed Flo’s snowsuit and maize Michigan hat, or her ‘rink fit' as mum liked to call it. “Okay the car seat is in my car, let me go and get her dressed quickly” She started to change Flo before Nolan swooped the baby and her clothes off the couch. “You stay sat, I will go get her little diaper bag and the necessities, don't worry I know the drill” The girl frowned before opening her mouth to interject, “Don't try to cut me off and say you can do it, I'm aware you’re capable, I just want to help you out, I've decided to be kind” “You guys all suck” she closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest as she death stared Nolan. “Hush”

Once the boys are ready and Flo is in her car seat the three of them stood at the door with proud smiles, “You guys call me if anything happens,” she says sternly as they all nod, “and tell Truss that if anything happens to my baby on his watch I will break his other arm.” Nolan laughs at her threats as he lifts the carrying to make Flo wave her little hand to her mum, “Yeah sure, anyways, we love you go do your assignment.”

-❀-

The woman smiled at her phone, three texts from Mark popped up on her screen, two little photos of him on the ice holding the baby in his arms, Flo’s little hands on the flushed skin of his cheek as she smiled up at him. the baby raise hat on display as she giggled, it was merely a photo but the woman could hear her baby’s laughter through the image. The other photo is of him hugging her against his chest, her little hands now wrapped around his neck and pulling at his long strands of hair, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Mackie stood on the other side of him and placed a kiss on Mark's other cheek, mirroring Flo’s actions. It is impossible to stop her face from warming up as she reads the tiny caption “Always knew I was her Favourite”.

She stares at the two photos for a few seconds longer, she doesn’t even know why, it's like she’s trying to pick apart every aspect of the photo, trying to decipher what about these images are making her stomach feel fluttery and her chest tight. Convincing herself that it's just the cute way her daughter smiles in the photos, the happiness displayed on her daughter's lips as she hugs the boy.

She highly shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her phone back into her lap so she could return to her work, the essay had been coming along very easily as she finished finding her sources and her outline. The intro paragraph wrote itself and now she just had to finish the bulk of the work.

Her phone began to ring in her lap just as she went back to staring at her computer screen, her eyes stinging from the brightness of the screen. Philippe’s contact photo pops up on her phone as she looks back down at her phone. “I’m about to ask you a question, and feel free to say no if you’re too stressed,” he said, the girl was able to hear his smile over the phone as the boys in the background all chatted in the locker room. She smiled as she heard Duker softly singing to Taylor Swift in the background, Flo squealing in the distance, “What’s up?” “The seniors are having drinks at their house tonight and I was wondering if I could join them?” he asked, his voice wavering on guilt and desperation for a yes.

There was something so familiar about this occurrence, the conversation felt like it had happened at least a hundred other times. A constant loop of Phil asking for lenience and her letting him live the life he had pre-Florence. This conversation was happening almost every other weekend, him asking to do things that normal twenty-year-olds do and her letting him go off and experiencing life, the way it was before their daughter. She couldn’t say no to him, because she had held a lot of pent-up guilt about their situation, like his new way of life had all been an accident and all of the blame falling onto her shoulders.

The girl's smile faltered as she looked at the time and the amount of work she had finished so far, annoyance wracked her brain as she let out a short sigh, followed by a “yes.” Phil profusely thanked her and apologized as Steve and Jay cheered in the background. “How are you getting Flo home?” she massaged her temples, remembering her daughter was stuck at the rink. "Mark and Eddy offered to drop her off on their way home,” he said shortly.

"Can you give Mark the phone?" She asked as he silently agreed and handed the phone over to his teammate who stared at the man who ushered for him to put it up to his ear. ”Everything okay?” he asked as he was met with silence on the other end. The woman softly sighed as she shut her laptop and got up to retrieve her sweater, ”I can go pick her up, Phil shouldn't be putting his responsibilities on you" she said the ending bit in a hushed tone as she searched for her keys in her bag. “It's fine really," Mark shook his head, the phone now balanced between his shoulder and ear as he snatched up Flo from her spot on Luke's lap and put her back into her car seat,” besides, if he’s putting the responsibilities on anyone it's you, I'm just driving her home" Mark reasoned as Flo ripped her hat off of her head and giggled.

"He needs a life too,” she felt like a broken record, that sentence seeming to be the only words ever leaving her mouth. “You deserve a life just as much as he does,” he paused to let it sink in for a moment, "me and Ethan will be over with her in 20 sounds good?” She softly frowned on the other end “perfect”

-❀-

Mark and Ethan had come and gone, staying for a bit to help Mum with the bulk of getting Flo settled and ready for bed. Ethan had left the two of them for a brief period of time to go and pick up Dylan, Adam, and Luca from the party that they had deemed boring.

The boy sat with Flo in his arms as he feed her one last bottle before bed, “I don't get how she is so perfect” he whispered as she closed her eyes, lazily drinking from the bottle as she fought off sleep. “she gets it from me” the woman joked as she reached forward and took the bottle out from Flo’s mouth. Mark looked up at her seriously, “She does” his tone held not a single ounce of humour as he handed the now sleeping baby over to her mother, the woman softly murmured to the little one as she cradled her to her chest.

He watched with soft eyes as she smiled down at her daughter and then back up t him, he was always there in moments of need, or even the softest of domestic moments so far in her journey of motherhood.

“I wasn’t meaning to tell you how to handle yourself earlier, I know I sounded harsh,” he said as she looked back up at him with confused eyes, completely forgetting their phone call earlier, “It's just that you treat yourself so unfairly, he gets all the freedom at your expense” Her lips formed a straight line as she shook her head, “it’s fine, no harm done,” it was now his turn to frown, she was always so dismissive to her own emotions.

“When was the last time you went out with the girls, or even just joined us for drinks while he stayed in?” She shrugged her shoulders and thought for a second before the answer came up as nothing, “never I guess.” “That’s not fair to you” he reasoned, a sad expression on his face as he watched her look away from him, blinking back tears, “I love Phil, we are teammates, brothers even, but that’s not fair to you.”

Mark’s phone began to ring, startling the both of them as he looked down at the caller and back up at her with soft eyes, “the boys are here so I'm gonna head out,” he ushered out the window to Luke’s car. “Thank you” she whispered as he placed a kiss on the side of her head, a sad but knowing look on her face as she stood up to walk him out, the baby still on her chest as her eyes began to water, chalking her burst of emotions up to exhaustion. Mark put on his sneakers as she opened the door and waved out to the boys in the car who smiled back at her, “call if you need anything” Mark whispered as he ran his thumb on the soft skin of Flo’s cheek as a sort of goodbye, “promise?" She gave him a soft look and nodded, he stared at her waiting for verbal reassurance, “Yes Mark.” “Good.”

It wasn’t long after she was awoken from her bed, a slightly tipsy Philippe stumbling into her room with an expression of worry on his face as she sat up in her bed. “Phil?” “Yes?” He mumbled as he laid himself across the bottom of her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she sat up, her pyjama top was twisted and her hair a mess as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes, her arms folding over her chest as she turned on the lamp beside her.

Phil groaned at the light as he propped himself up to look at her, a soft smile on his face as his vision travelled over to the crib next to her bed, “Where are the boys?” She asked pulling him back into reality. “Still at the seniors,” his hand found her shin, drawing shapes on her skin to occur himself from staring at her, “I needed to come home.” Her brows furrowed as, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine” he started, “but we need to talk” “We do?” “yes.”

He slowly stood up the shut the door, just in case someone came home, a frown on his face as he stared down at his sleeping daughter, “Have you ever thought about us?” “In what way Phil?” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut to fight off the exhaustion creeping back up on her. “Like together, a couple?” “I’m confused?” “I think I'm in love with you!” He blurted out loudly gaining a soft cry from Flo who was awoken, the woman sat frozen for a second, staring at Phil as he waited for an answer.

She then stood up from her spot, not daring to blink as she walked around the crib to retrieve her crying daughter, her heart was loudly beating in her chest as she read an unreadable look on the man's face. His eyes were hazy from the booze, his cheeks flush from the heat of the party and what she assumed to be the sprint home. “Phil, you’re drunk,” she bounced the baby on her hip to settle her as she made her way back under the covers of her bed, he sat back down on the bed. She shook her head as he grabbed her hand to make her look him in the eyes, “I'm not, I’m nearly sober,” she frowned at him, pulling her hand away from his grasp to run it over her face, not believing his lies.

The woman let out a sigh as Flo went silent once again, her face cradled in her mother's neck as the rocking continued, “I don't know what you want me to say to this Phil” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head, vision blurring with tears as his hand re-found hers. “I just wish I could understand how we can do this,” he motioned between them, the baby, their current life, “ we literally created a life, and you still have not an ounce of love for me” he whispered back, tears now rolling down his cheeks as his thumbs wiped away hers. “Philippe, I love you so much, so deeply” Her sentence got caught in her throat as she placed Flo down on the bed in front of her. Her cries were so intense that her body shook, and trembling hands reached out to wipe Phil’s tears away, “I promise I do love you, I just don't love you in the way you want Phil.”

“I think if you really loved me, I think if you really loved this family you would at least try to,” his tone was so serious and so cold that she backed away from him, her hands letting go of his as she physically moved away from him.

Her jaw dropped as she let go of his hand, “That’s not fair to me, to you, or to her” “I'm not being selfish, I just want our daughter to experience parents who love one another,” his voice now less a drunken whisper and more an annoyed tone.

“That’s such bullshit, Phil,” she said numbly as she stood up from her bed to find her phone and the baby’s diaper bag, “I think it's really shitty of you to show up to my room, confess your feelings and then tell me I'm basically failing my daughter cause I don't love you in a romantic way” her voice grew venomous as she found an old hoodie on the floor of her closet and slipped it on “That’s not-" She cut him off by opening her bedroom door and motioning for him to make his exit, “no you don't get to speak to me right now, I'm done listening” she wiped her tears again and ushered him out of her room, before shutting the door and rummaging through Florence's drawers for some spare clothes.

She dialled her phone and waited as it rang three times before a tired voice picked up on the other end, ” Hello?” “Can me and Flo come and stay with you for the night?” “I'm on the way”

I feel like the reader needs a nickname, so please lmk what you think fits her :)

Also sorry (kinda, not really) for the update literally taking a month. I've been through it with adulting and shit, so we are just gonna pretend that this didn't take me an entire month to finish...

#mylittlestlovesau!!#mark estapa #mark estapa fic #mark estapa x reader #philippe lapointe #umich boys #umich hockey #umich imagine #luke hughes #ethan edwards #dylan duke

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