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mylovesstuffs · 4 months ago

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OT13 reacting to their s/o giving birth

Request: Hello!! Can I request a Seventeen OT13 fluff/crack/comfort reaction to reader giving birth? Like for each member the member and reader react differently? Like reader having a hard time with wonwoo’s child because of his wide shoulders, Vernon being unfazed as usual as his wife screams at him, reader having no tolerance for pain and is panicking so Mingyu panics too, etc

A/N: I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, anon. This took much longer than I expected. I actually finished writing it yesterday, but my draft got deleted, and I was so frustrated that I nearly cried. I had been working on this for a week while juggling other writing projects and a busy, stressful schedule. Instead of breaking down and giving up, I sat down and rewrote everything from memory. Since it was my second time writing it, I at least had a clearer idea of what I wanted to do. I knew that if I didn’t finish it now, it would end up delayed for another week or more, and I didn’t want that. Also, I pushed other queued requests back to finally get this one out since it should've been out earlier but I wasn't done with it. I really hope I did justice to your request! Thank you for your patience 💓

Seungcheol: To me it feels like his leader instincts kicking in like it’s a group comeback 😭 You’re physically drained and can barely push anymore, so Seungcheol will be holding your hand tightly, his voice steadying you: “Just one more, baby, you’ve got this. We’ll meet our little one soon.” On the inside, he’s panicking but doesn’t let it show because he knows you need his strength, "Breathe, babe, breathe!” Wait, should I breathe too?! Once the baby is born, he’s in tears, holding your hand like, “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” and kissing your forehead. Then proceeds to take the title of Best Dad very seriously.

Jeonghan: “This is YOUR fault!” you scream at him as another wave of pain hits, and Jeonghan, instead of being offended, just grins cheekily, “I know, I know. But look at me—I’m right here. You’re doing amazing.” He is unfazed and mischievous, even while you're snapping at him but don't get me wrong. He's like, "It’s okay, just a little more!” while secretly panicking and muttering, How does one raise a tiny human? He just doesn't want to look panicked in front of you and scare you. When the baby arrives, he jokes, “Wow, this kid’s already prettier than me. Must’ve gotten it from me.” Yes, he's like that—but in a moment of seriousness, he looks at you with so much love, “You were incredible.”

Joshua: You’re crying softly, scared and overwhelmed, and Joshua immediately cups your face gently, “I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You can do this. I’ll be here the whole time.” He's very soft and attentive, the perfect mix of calm and emotional. He never leaves your side, murmuring prayers under his breath. Holds your hand and whispers comforting words the whole time, “You’re amazing, you’ve got this.” When the baby cries for the first time, he literally cries too, “This is the best day of my life.” He lets out a laugh of pure relief and joy as his face says, This is our miracle. He insists on singing the baby a lullaby immediately. Sunday morning rain is falling in form of lullaby

Jun: Wait, I think I need to sit down—oh no, wait, you’re the one doing all the work! Chaotic but sweet, Jun is trying his best to be strong for you, but his emotions are all over the place. You’re gripping his hand tightly, shaking your head, “I can’t do it, Jun. I really can’t!” his heart clenches at your words but he then immediately leans in, his eyes wide but sincere, “You’re already doing it. Look at me. One more push, and we’ll meet our baby.” The sheer trust and love in his gaze give you the last bit of strength you need. After the birth, he’s SO emotional, holding them like the most delicate thing in the world in complete awe with wide eyes, “Wow… they’re so small. Are you sure they’re ours?” He traces a careful finger along the baby’s tiny hand, his eyes softening even more. “They’re perfect… just like you.” His lips press a lingering, grateful kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his eyes shimmering. “I love you. Both of you.”

Hoshi: He's excited and maybe a little too energetic. Freaks out every time you make a noise, “IS IT TIME?!” even if you’re just asking for water. During birth, I feel like, his s/o will be yelling from the pain and accidentally yell at him too lol. “STOP TALKING, SOONYOUNG!” you shout during a particularly painful contraction, and he freezes, wide-eyed. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet—but I’m still here!” When the baby is born, he’s crying harder than you are, clutching your hand, “WE DID IT! I mean, you did it! I’M A PAPA TIGER! Look at our little cub!” while also jumping up and down yelling.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is the reliable rock you need. You’re biting your lip, trying not to scream, and he notices your trembling. He leans closer, his voice soft, “It’s okay to let it out. I’m here for you, always.” He stays by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the back of it to soothe you. Every now and then, he murmurs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice laced with admiration and respect for his beloved. When the baby is finally born, he doesn’t say much at first—just stares in awe, holding them close with a small, amazed smile. After a long pause, he finally whispers, “So this is what pure happiness feels like.” Theb he looks at you, eyes full of love, and promises, “I’ll be the best dad. For both of you.”

Woozi: Stressed but trying not to show it. Internally writing 15 songs about his emotions while saying, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? A new husband?” all while trying his best to keep his emotions in check for your sake but low-key failing. “It hurts so much!” you cry, and Jihoon, though visibly worried and internally panicking, keeps rubbing your back, “I know, love, I know. Just a little more, and it’ll be over. You’re stronger than you think.” Once it’s over, he’s stunned silent, staring at the tiny life in his hands in awe, whispering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything more beautiful than this.” Then he looks at you, his voice soft: “You’re incredible.”

Dokyeom: Your overly enthusiastic cheerleader is trying his best. But when you let out a scream, “AUGH!” Seokmin yelps even louder, “ARE YOU OKAY?!” despite knowing full well that you’re not. He’s gripping your hand so tightly—probably too tightly and almost crying with you. “YOU’RE DOING GREAT. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Then, mid-contraction, he suddenly panics, “Wait, do you hate me right now? I think you do.” You glare at him between deep breaths, and he flinches, “Okay! No talking! Got it!” When the baby is finally here, Seokmin completely loses it, his happy sobs are the loudest in the room. “We did it! Well, mostly you, but we did it!” He’s melting, practically sliding to the floor as he holds the baby, overwhelmed by joy. Someone has to hold him up before he turns into a puddle of emotions.

Mingyu: He’s the definition of chaos with a side of tears. “Why is it taking so long?!” you cry out, exhausted and frustrated, and Mingyu, who has been pacing non-stop—pauses for a second before nervously responding, “I don’t know, but I’m here! We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He’s trying so hard to be helpful, but his clumsy ass is in full force. “Do you need water, baby? A towel? Oh no, I dropped the towel! Wait, where’s the doctor—should I call someone?!” The moment the baby arrives, Mingyu’s emotions explode, he’s full-on sobbing, barely able to form words. “You’re amazing! Our baby is amazing!” He cradles the tiny newborn like the most precious thing in the world, holding on so tight that the nurses have to coax him into letting them check the baby. “No! They’re so tiny! So perfect! I’m NOT letting them go.” spoiler: he doesn't. they have the check the baby from his hold.

Minghao: Zen but emotional deep down. He’s by your side, reminding you to breathe like a yoga instructor, “Inhale, exhale, you’ve got this.” But you are still exhausted and losing focus during labor, “I can’t do it,” you mumble weakly, and Minghao immediately takes your hand, his calm voice grounding you: “Yes, you can. Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re stronger than you know.” After the baby’s born, he holds them with the gentlest hands, his eyes full of tears. “You did so well,” he whispers, brushing hair out of your sweaty face. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.” His face is all smiley with streaks of dry tears down his cheeks as he kisses your nose, “This is the start of a masterpiece. You’re amazing, my love. I love you”

Seungkwan: The most emotional and slightly dramatic of them all. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Am I okay?!” He’s running on pure nerves. The situation escalates quickly when you reach the peak of labor, and it’s similar to Hoshi’s. “STOP TALKING, KWAN!” you snap, breathless from the pain. He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest, “I’m just worried! But okay, okay, I’ll shut up!” He’s jittery, constantly checking on you, the doctors, and the monitors, whispering prayers under his breath. The moment the baby is born, all his anxiety vanishes, replaced by unfiltered joy. He holds the baby, bawling his eyes out, voice shaking as he says, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then, looking at you with pure adoration, he sniffles, “I’m going to spoil them so much.”

Vernon: Surprisingly calm but mostly because he’s in shock. You’re gripping the bed rails so hard your knuckles turn white, trying not to scream, and Vernon, who notices how much you’re struggling, leans down, holding your hand. “You’re doing so great,” he says. “We’re so close, babe. Just a little more.” He doesn’t say much else, just keeps his grip firm, standing by your side like an unshakable pillar until you give birth while internally thinking, This is wild. When the baby is born, he stares at them for a long moment before finally saying, “Wow… we made this. That’s crazy.” But then, as he holds the baby, his normally neutral expression softens into something breathtaking. His heart eyes are fully showing— completely smitten, both with the baby and with you.

Dino: Our Dino is flustered but super supportive. “Do you need me to do anything? Tell me what to do—I’ll do it!” He’s hovering, heart racing, watching you struggle through the pain, and it’s breaking him. When you sob, “I can’t do it, Chan!” he nearly panics himself, but he quickly shakes his head and crouches beside you, rubbing your back. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little more, I’m right here!” The second the baby arrives, his stress vanishes, replaced by pure joy. His grin is so wide it almost hurts. “I’m officially a dad! We’re parents now, love! Can you believe it?” He holds the baby with so much pride and tenderness, already making promises. “I’m going to be the fun parent. You’re going to have the coolest childhood ever, little one.” and holds their pinky.

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hey lovely, How about Hotch and wife!reader having their first family outing with new baby, a walk in the park or grocery shopping something like that you can pick.

Hope your having a good weekend lovely Xx <3 🌼

ty for your request ily <3 —you and Hotch juggle your small family for the first time. fem, 1.2k

“Please hold my hand?”

Having a baby has activated some intrafamily jealousy, but you don’t mind. You’re cooing at Noah adoringly when Jack interrupts, thrusting his hand in the air, the very beginning of a tantrum lining his eyes and his thin eyebrows pinched like a threat.

“Baby, don’t you wanna come and sit up here with Noah?” you ask. There’s not much room next to the carrier, but Jack's slight.

He shakes his head, hand poking your tummy. Grocery shopping with Jack has always been hard, he wants to look at everything, wants to take the list, and doesn’t ever wanna sit in the cart, but it’s proving harder today.

“Aaron, you have to push the cart.”

He’s been begging you to let him for the last half hour. “It’s gonna tire me out,” he says, nudging you aside by the hip, “but I think I can handle it for you. You did call me by my first name for once. We reward good behaviour in this family.”

You roll your eyes and take Jack’s little hand. Calling him Aaron now you’ve had a baby together should feel natural, but it doesn’t. It feels more like a loving nickname than his actual name —over two years of calling him Hotch is hard to ignore.

Jack gives you a loving look that makes the fuss worth it. “This is fun,” he says.

“This is awesome.”

You and Jack got used to doing grocery shopping by yourselves while you were on your maternity leave without his dad. With Hotch now on his own paternity leave to accompany you, it is admittedly easier, and much more fun. You and Jack swing your hands together as Hotch steers the cart and your baby into the cereal aisle, which’ll take hours to get through, no doubt, but it doesn’t matter. What else is there to do?

You make it Hotch’s job to say no to the boxes that are mostly sugar, and, unfortunately for Jack, get distracted by Noah in his baby carrier where it’s locked into the cart. His eyes reluctant to open, tired, dark lashes threaded together at their corners, his tiny mouth. “Aw, look at you, handsome, you’re nearly smiling. You look just like your daddy, he never wants to smile either,” you say, tapping his nose.

Your saccharine tone prompts distress. “Y/N,” Jack whines, “you need to help me choose the cereal.” He yanks at your hand.

“Jack, don’t start, bud.”

“Dad,” Jack pouts.

“No, it’s okay. We’re supposed to be sharing everybody now, so Jack gets to share me too. I’ll help you pick some cereal. I don’t mind,” you say.

You sort of do mind, just a bit. This is Noah’s first time out in the world that wasn’t sitting peacefully in the backyard, and you don’t want him to be scared. Maybe baby’s can’t be scared, you don’t know. It’s nicer to feel close to him in these big moments. But it’s Jack’s first time having a baby brother at the store, too, so you’ll have to make it work.

“You don’t have to,” Hotch says.

“It’s fine, it’s okay.” You bend down to see the cereal selection. “They have your favourite, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. And your second, Fruity Pebbles. It’s up to you, it’s your treat.”

Jack gasps and hits a box of Fruity Pebbles, “Barney’s on the box now!” he says, pointing at the blonde character behind the cereal bowl.

You give a soft laugh quickly lost as Jack’s force topples the box. It hits the floor with a light crunch. “Oh, whoops. Let’s pick this up,” you say, popping down into a crouch without thinking.

“Honey–” Hotch says, which would surely be followed by a Should you be doing that? if you weren’t already flopping onto one knee in pain.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Having a baby tears a mixture of tissue and muscle, and while the fiery pain of labour has since become a bad memory, a spike of trauma erupts between your legs. “Ow,” you yelp, eyes welling with unbidden tears.

“Y/N!” Jack and Hotch say simultaneously.

“Are you alright?” Hotch asks, bending at the waist to grab you, never cruel but clearly perturbed as his hands grasp your shoulders. They slip down under your arms. “Come on, can you stand up?”

You blink away tears and force yourself to stand with his help. He’s quick to pull you close, one hand on your wrist, head ducked to see your face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You let out a queasy breath. “Something’s not done fixing itself,” you joke weakly.

“Are you alright?” he asks again, lower.

“I’m fine.” You’d love to sit down. The pain is a thrum like your heartbeat now, hurting but half as intense. “I’m okay. Really, it just shocked me.”

He slips his arm around your neck to encourage you in for a temple kiss.

“I’m sorry.”

You wiggle out of Hotch’s hold. Jack stands with a large pout near the fallen box of cereal, his hands twisting together over his tummy. “It’s okay,” you say.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, panicked tears slipping down his cheeks. “You hurt getting it and it was mine, I’m sorry.” His voice squeezes out of him in guilty pangs.

“It’s okay!” you repeat, leaning over with a wince to offer your arms, “It’s really okay, it’s not your fault. Don’t be upset, baby, I’m fine.”

You hoist Jack into your arms as he begins crying in earnest. His crying startles Noah, who starts to whimper, and then sob despite Hotch’s gentle shushing. You look at one another in mild defeat, your hand cupping the back of Jack’s head as he clings to you for reassurance.

Noah’s sobbing is like a ringing bell. Jack says he’s sorry into your neck, and it’s such a desperate scene you let a laugh slip out. “Aw, baby,” you say, smiling as you press your nose to his cheek, “it’s really okay. It wasn’t your fault at all, it was just ‘cos I’m out of practice. I’m just tired.”

“You fell.”

Noah gurgles behind you. “I know,” Hotch says quietly. “I know. You’re okay, bud. Jack’s okay. Mom’s okay. Shh, shh.”

It’s obviously not how you’d want your shopping trip to go, but Jack’s crying eventually slows, sapping all of his energy, and so he finally agrees to sit in the cart. The only problem is that he doesn’t fit there as well as you’d thought he would. Hotch ends up carrying him the entire time you’re in the store, and Noah doesn’t ever settle. You’re like zombies when you get back to the car, a headache stark between your ears and evident in his pinched brow.

“Let’s try again in a few weeks,” Hotch suggests. “I can go by myself. Or we can make somebody else.”

You wish you had the energy to kiss his brow, giving a defeated nod as you slouch down into your seat, grateful at least for his hand on your knee. “Okay.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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smartkookiee · 9 months ago

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How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! (OUT NOW) || jjk.

SERIES MASTERLIST

❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader

❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+

❥description: How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! A guide of what you shouldn't do in the first 30 days of a relationship if you don't want him running for the hills! You get to see my experiment with the things I did wrong in the first 30 days of a brand new relationship.

You have just received your first opportunity to write your own column at Composure Magazine. This is everything that you have ever dreamed of and should be simple enough, drive a guy away in 30 days. Across town Jungkook, who hasn't committed to anyone in years, is issued a bet that he can stay with the same person for one month. Both of you being so head strong to achieve your goals cause a myriad of hilariously disastrous dates, unexpected sparks, and a countdown that neither is ready for. 30 days to fall in love or fall apart. After all, all is fair in love and war.

❥warnings: set in the universe of How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days, comedy, sort of a crack fic???, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, eventual smut, some angst, Y/N is a love girl (sigh), Jungkook used to be a playboy (heavier sigh), fluff, Y/N basically torturing Jungkook, Jungkook will never surrender lmao, I watched the movie recently and I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head (like seriously I plotted out the entire fic in like three hours), you don't have to have seen the movie to get this fic.

❥disclaimer: Might be a bit before I start this fic, I want to get Wounds We Never Show a little further along before I decide to juggle two Jungkook fics (sigh). (Also sort of want to get an interest check on this fic hehe)

CHAPTER ONE

.��。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・。.・゜✭・.・✫

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parvulous-writings · 3 months ago

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Could I request dating headcanons for Viktor, Jayce, Vander, Silco, and Ekko with gn s/o? - Fluff anon P S. Please delete the first one because I forgot to put my name 🤣

Warnings: None, I don't think! Just fluff :3

Notes: Thank you, once again, fluff anon!! Was very fun getting to write a couple of these, as I've not written for a few of them before! :3 My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Viktor

- Viktor doesn’t always “have time” for personal affections outside of the laboratory - he tries his best, but he gets so focused and stuck into his work that everything else fades away. His work, some weeks quite literally, is his life. He spends days on end there, hardly going home, all in the pursuit of progress. That is, until you slowly start showing him that, yes, there is time for those small affections. Small talk, stolen laughter as he works. It’s a very slow process, but eventually, he does begin to relent, and show some of these affections back. - He loves when you join him in the lab - even if you’re unable or unwilling to help him with his tasks, he likes having you there. He appreciates the company. With Jayce coming around the lab less and less, even for a man of Viktor’s minimal social need, it’s a struggle. He’s feeling the loneliness, which is something he never thought he’d been affected by. Having you there, even if you’re doing something entirely different to him, makes him feel so much better, so much less alone. - When not spending time in the lab, he likes to go on walks through the academy and it’s gardens with you. Sure, you both have to take it a bit slow, but it helps him clear his head - and a walk is the perfect opportunity to have a nice, proper conversation with you. A time to catch up - like what you’ve been doing outside of your many visits to him, or how your other friends and family may be doing. Despite being a very work-oriented man, he does take an interest in your life, too - such is the way of someone so in love such as he. - He struggles to show the affection that he feels for you, sometimes. He knows that most show it through physical means - hugs, kisses, and the like - but he’s not typically a very touchy man. He likes to be approached first. If you initiate a kiss, or a hug, he will gladly reciprocate - but he struggles to know when, or how, to initiate these himself. He instead shows his affection through his creations - little side-projects that he works on when he’s dealing with a mental block with his main projects. Some of them are little trinkets - ornaments for the mantle, or fancy looking mechanisms akin to a complex child’s ornament. Others are to help you around the home. Things for cleaning, or for reaching hard to get spots.

Jayce

- In a similar sense to Viktor, Jayce sometimes struggles in juggling all of his responsibilities, and his time is very often split between you, working with Viktor (which is becoming less and less of an occurrence) and his time with the council and the political figures within. Some days it’s hard to have a conversation with him that lasts for more than 5 minutes, because the poor man just gets so overwhelmed with his attention being pulled in every direction known to man. - In terms of quality time, he likes spending it in his chambers - or yours. Doesn’t overly matter. What matters is that you’re both shut away from the prying eyes of the world, responsibilities left outside the door, and work shoved into a distant corner of both of your minds. He likes to put his head in your lap and let your fingers run through his hair - it’s a feeling that often lulls him into near-sleep. A state that is very much needed and appreciated, with how stressed he gets, he often finds it difficult to actually relax or get any sleep that helps him feel rested. - Although he tries to keep the majority of his work life and love life separate, there are times when an idea just… Hits him. He has to get it out, has to tell someone just to get those words out of his brain and into existence. Most of the time, this person is now you - even if you have absolutely no clue what half of the words he’s saying are, just smile, nod, and ask a couple of basic questions so his brain can turn it’s gears and work out the kinks he can think of. You just need to help him get the ball rolling - once he’s got those ideas down in rudimentary note form, he can take them to the lab, and he and Viktor can get the real work started. (He usually forgets that most of the time it’s Viktor who ends up doing the majority of the work). - He likes sleeping near to you - in fact quite early on in your relationship, he refuses to sleep without you at least in the room with him. This went on for… A very long time, and still hasn’t completely gone away. He particularly likes hugging you in his sleep; whether he’s the big or little spoon, it doesn’t matter to him (it changes mainly based on how good or bad his day has been), so long as he’s able to feel his skin against yours, he’s a happy man. A very happy man, indeed. - If you want this man to do something - and do it very willingly, with a massive grin on his face - give him some food. If you bribe him with food - particularly cakes, and perhaps some nice savoury items - he’s at your every whim, your every beck and call.

Vander

- Vander is a very affectionate man; he loves calling you by anything other than your name, loves physical displays of affection, and just… Being very domestic. He may be called the ‘Hound of the Underground’, but most of the time he’s little more than a dog who longs for affection - his more hound-like, violent days are long behind him, now. After all, he’s a father of four, he’s got an example to set. And he feels that the domestic life, despite his unfamiliarity with it, is the life he can best do that in. - Vander loves cooking with you. Or, well, trying to cook. 9/10 something goes wrong somehow; someone will spill something, a dish will overcook despite having been in the oven under the recommended cooking time.Though, a lot of the time, that can be attributed to… Little helpers, trying their hand at cooking. Vander doesn’t usually mind all that much - unless they try to actively force themselves into the situation after he’s already said no - as he can normally whip up an edible meal quite quickly. The last 1/10 times is when the kids are all tucked up and asleep, and he’s taking his sweet time teaching you how to cook some of their (and his) favourite meals. - He always has a chair reserved for you in The Last Drop. Well, two, actually - so you have options on where you can sit. There’s one at the end of the bar, so you can be close to him as he works, and you can keep an eye on him as he serves. Then there’s also another one in a secluded corner booth, where you can still see one another, but you’re a little more on your own in case you don’t really want to be bothered by anyone else. He’ll nip over there every so often to make sure you don’t feel too lonely, and to top up your drink for you. More often than not he also brings a snack over too - just in case. He can’t have you going hungry, now, can he? - He likes it when you help him close up for the night - he tells you every time that you don’t need to, it’s alright, he can handle it, but secretly, he loves the fact that you’re able or eager to pitch in with him. Hell, even if you’re just sitting on the bar, talking to him, he’s a happy man.

Silco

- Silco spoils you in some ways, but not all. Yes, he has his claws in every nook and cranny of Zaun, and you have lived without want since you started dating him, but he never wants you to slip into overindulgence - mainly when it comes to material belongings. He doesn’t want you to end up taking anything for granted. There’s always that possibility, in the back of his mind, that everything may be stolen away at any moment. You need to be prepared for that. - He likes being in your presence. You could be doing entirely different things in the same room, and he’d be happy. He isn’t a massive fan of being left on his own, normally. The only real exception to that rule is when he’s majorly pissed off with something or someone, and even then your presence can usually lull him back to a sense of calm. He doesn’t have a particular ‘happy place’ unless you count being by your side. For a man who is normally so dour, he’s sweet to you. - If you ever have an opinion on an issue that he’s trying to fix - be that economy related, or general public relations - he’s happy to listen to you. He’ll take your views into account, though he may push back and debate with you over things, always trying to look at the bigger picture or the long game. Though he is often ever so tempted to make decisions based on your quality of life and joy, he is very aware that he can’t do so - not if he wants the nation under his rule to live on. - He tries his best, for the most part, to keep you and the unsavoury business of his job separate. He wasn’t sure if he could bear the idea of you getting tangled up in it all - and there was no way at all that he would want to subject you to any of the gory sights he had had to witness over the years. While he made sure you were at least aware of the goings on around the Undercity, the thought of you getting caught up in it - especially caught up in the gang activity - made his blood run cold. He wanted you to be aware of what life could be, if worst came to worst, of course, but he would never let you actually live it so long as he was alive.

Ekko

- Ekko is BIG on physical touch. Whenever you’re within arms reach, he has to have a hand on you - not in a gropey way, but more… That he likes having the knowledge that you’re there, close to him. His hand will be on your shoulder, or the small of your back, or holding your hand. He especially loves holding your hand; he can twirl you around, pull you in for a hug or kiss, or even do something as mundane as swinging your hands back and forth a little bit as the pair of you walk together. There’s something so special to him about physical contact - and this leeches over into hugs as well. He loves hugging you to nap or sleep; it brings him a sense of calmness and security. He doesn’t care where, or in what position you sleep in, so long as he’s able to feel you he’s fine with it. - He likes sharing his clothes with you; no matter the weather. You’re cold? His jacket will warm you right up. Oh, you’re hot? Here, have his shirt, it’s a lighter colour it won’t attract as much heat. Seeing you wear his clothing is something that sparks a little bit of joy in his heart - he LOVES it. And if you let him wear some of your clothes? The cycle will be complete, and he will not let you go - you already have a special place in his heart, and it will be entirely solidified if you let him have some of your clothes. - He likes walking with you. Be it around the grounds of your communal home, or in the Lanes. It’s a brilliant way to bond, he thinks. You can talk, or stay quiet, it doesn’t matter. And if you struggle a bit with the parkour that sometimes needs to be done to traverse the undercity? Not to worry, Ekko will teach you. When he’s not being pursued, he’s a very patient teacher - he’ll tell you what point to jump from and how to land so you don’t hurt your ankles or knees - and so you don’t fall off. Once you’ve at least got a steady foot, he’ll take you to all his favourite spots, to all the best views of both the undercity, and topside. - Eventually, Ekko may ask you if you want to help with the massive memorial mural in the centre of the communal hideout - nothing major, just touchups of the paint where it’s started to fade or flake away. It’s important to him to keep it vibrant, so that people won��t forget all those who have been lost over the years. After a few visits, he lets you know that you can add anyone you’ve lost to Silco or the enforcers, if you so wish. He doesn’t force the idea upon you, but he just quietly tells you, that if you’re comfortable enough, if you want to, you can. He’d even help you, if you wanted. He wants you to be as comfortable as is possible - even when confronting grief.

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hummingbird24220 · 1 month ago

Note

May I please request swordsman! Reader who can understand swords?

I've seen in a couple fics where swordsmen are able to talk to their swords after bonding with them but the idea of reader being able to with out a bond present would be so funny! Idk if it's a skill reader learned (like a special technique) or a devil fruit power but reader just absolutely clowning on the swordsmen in one piece as a whole. Idk if the swordsman themselves can talk to their swords but I feel like it's funnier if they can't. Reader learning all about Zoro as a kid from Wado and all the embarrassing things it's seen (its been with him so long)

The only other swordsmen I can think of are Law and Mihawk. Readers experience with their swords are a little different

I feel like Yoru(I think is the name) has to much respect for Mihawk to tell any embarrassing stories like Wado but would still be embarrassing with how much bragging it does. It's very proud to have Mihawk as it's owner (he's the best swordsmen afterall)

Law's sword, Kikoku is just as cautious as it's owner but can't help but to take this opportunity to tell reader to tell law to take better care of himself

(You don't have to write for law or Mihawk if you don't want to! I just wanted to add my thoughts on them! You could just do Zoro with his three swords or any other swordsmen- honestly I have lots of thoughts about this 'prompt' so sorry for rambling <3)

(I have more thoughts if you like this request enough if not no worries!)

This is a cool idea! Thank you for requesting <3 I havent met Law in the anime yet (still on baby episodes) but i did a smol google and stalk. Sorry if hes OOC! Kinda went into it with the mindset of 'if the sword vibes with the wielder, then the wielder can kinda understand the sword' - but thee reader is fluent in swordeneese ;)

I saw your other message about you wanting a Swordsmith reader - i wasn't too sure how to incorporate it to the story so its a bit of a doozy. I could do a part 2 - focusing more on the swords being cared/repaired if you like, maybe with some scenes with shanks and his sword (reader tries not to acknowledge his sword so he doesn't think shes nosy or something? big bad shank emperor vibes ((when really hes a softie)))

Let me know if you want part 2 ^^

Enjoy <3

Sharp Tongues, Sharper Blades (Part 1)

One piece x Swordsmith!Reader

You didn’t set out to be a menace. That just sort of... happened.

Your Devil Fruit—unofficially dubbed the Blade-Whisper Whisper Fruit by a very drunk shipwright—granted you the ability to hear and speak to swords. Not just your own. Not just special, bonded blades. All swords. All the time.

It was less of a superpower and more of a constantly running group chat in your head, filled with temperamental steel with centuries of backstories and too many opinions.

Zoro’s swords were loudest of all.

You had snuck into the Sunny’s training room while the crew was off eating. You were supposed to be sharpening some of the crew’s utility knives. Instead, you were crouched beside Zoro’s swords, whispering like you were conspiring with old friends.

"Alright, alright—Wado first," you muttered, eyeing the pristine katana resting in its scabbard.

Wado Ichimonji’s “voice” came through calm and noble, but with the weary sass of someone who’s seen too much.

“It’s about time you listened. Do you know how hard it is being the only reasonable one among these idiots?”

You snorted. "You're literally a sword."

“And yet more emotionally mature than your average swordsman.”

"Tell me something embarrassing."

There was a pause.

“…When he was ten, he practiced shirtless in front of a mirror because he thought he’d grow muscles faster that way.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep the laugh in.

Sandai Kitetsu gave off an unhinged energy, like a cursed blade that listened to heavy metal and screamed into the void for fun.

“I told him to stop juggling me. That was not a test of fate. That was plain stupidity.”

"How many times has he tried to use you while drunk?"

“Seven. Eight if you count the time he mistook a mop for me.”

Shusui (grumpy, old, and dramatic) immediately interjected.

“Hmph. That mop had better stance.”

You pressed your forehead to the wooden floor, wheezing with laughter.

"Wado, how do you deal with him?"

“Love, patience, and the ability to ignore shirtless mirror flexing.”

You wiped your eyes. "You're killing me."

A familiar voice suddenly barked from behind you.

“What the hell are you doing with my swords?”

You turned slowly to find Zoro in the doorway, brow furrowed, arms crossed.

Think fast. “...uh, bonding?”

He looked skeptical. You grinned.

“Wado says you used to practice shirtless for gains.”

Zoro’s face turned ten shades of red.

“WHAT?!”

From the sword rack, Wado Ichimonji whispered smugly: “He also cried after losing to a squirrel once.”

Dinner on the Sunny was loud, chaotic, and usually filled with the sounds of Luffy trying to steal food off every plate within reach.

Tonight, it was also filled with the sounds of you barely containing your laughter as you side-eyed Zoro across the table.

He was trying to act normal, gruffly chewing through his rice like it hadn’t been hours since you’d had a little... chat with his swords. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eye kept twitching every time you looked at him and smirked.

You were so going to milk this.

“So, Zoro��” you said casually, poking at your food. “Ever get into any fights with… squirrels?”

He froze mid-bite.

Luffy blinked. “Wait, what kind of squirrel? Like a big one?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes at you. “You said you weren’t gonna say anything!”

“I said nothing about dinner,” you replied, grinning. “Besides, Wado told me. I’m just the humble messenger.”

Sanji leaned over from across the table, intrigued. “Oi, moss-head, did you really lose to a squirrel?”

“It was strategic retreat,” Zoro grumbled.

Robin was sipping wine, completely unbothered. “How charming. Perhaps we can find you a rematch.”

“I’LL KILL THAT SWORD,” Zoro snapped.

You snorted into your drink. “I don’t think that’s how swords work, sweetie.”

Wado Ichimonji—propped up nearby in its sheath—was practically vibrating with smug energy in your head.

“Tell him I still have the scar. Right on the saya. From when he tripped into a tree trying to dodge it.”

You bit your tongue. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Okay, laugh later.

“Anyway,” you said, taking a bite, “the real scandal was the mirror thing.”

Zoro dropped his chopsticks.

Usopp looked between you and Zoro. “Wait—what mirror thing?”

Nami raised a brow. “Oh no.”

Brook’s skull tilted curiously. “Was it about his form?”

“Or lack of muscles?” Sanji added with a smirk.

“HE WAS TEN,” Zoro barked, face red. “DROP IT.”

You smiled sweetly. “But you believed it would work. That’s the cute part.”

Zoro shot to his feet. “I will personally throw all your tools into the sea.”

You shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll just ask Wado what your favorite shampoo is and swap it with mayonnaise.”

Wado, gleeful: “It’s lavender. He says it’s for 'clarity.'”

Zoro screamed into his hands.

Across the table, Luffy was just staring in awe. “Your swords talk back?! That’s so cool!”

Zoro glared at you. “They don’t talk.”

You leaned back in your chair, arms behind your head, grin wide as the ocean.

“No, Zoro. They don’t talk to you.”

The galley was quieter after dinner, lit only by warm lanterns and the soft clatter of dishes. Sanji was elbow-deep in soap suds, humming a soft tune as he washed. You were drying plates beside him, content for once to enjoy the stillness after a meal full of teasing and near sword-based homicide.

“You know,” Sanji said, glancing over, “for someone who spent dinner instigating Zoro into an aneurysm, you’re surprisingly helpful in the kitchen.”

“Gotta stay useful somehow,” you replied with a shrug. “Besides, I only poke the moss bear out of love.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

As he turned to scrub a pot, a glint from the knife rack caught your eye. A particular chef’s knife��slender, perfectly weighted, lovingly honed. It practically vibrated with attention as you passed.

“Hey,” it whispered, voice soft and precise, like a blade gliding through ripe tomato skin. “That man. The one with the cigarette and perfect fingers. He’s a good one.”

You blinked, surprised. Most blades didn’t care for conversation unless they had drama to spill or blood to remember. This one was… almost reverent.

“You want me to tell him something?” you murmured under your breath, pretending to clean the counter.

“Tell him I appreciate the oil he uses. The cloth. The sharpening stone. And the way he holds me—steady, confident. It’s rare to be treated with such respect.” A pause. “…His julienne game? Immaculate.”

You stifled a chuckle. “Right, I’ll let him know.”

“What was that?” Sanji asked, glancing over.

You hesitated. Normally, you’d play this kind of thing for laughs. But this blade wasn’t mocking. It was genuine. So you dried your hands, turned to him, and leaned against the counter.

“Your favorite knife just wanted to say you’ve got great technique,” you said casually. “Like, really appreciates how well you take care of it. The oiling, the sharpening, the… julienne game. All of it.”

Sanji paused mid-scrub, frowning. “You serious?”

You nodded. “Dead serious. It’s almost poetic about it. Kinda adorable, honestly.”

For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the Sunny.

Then Sanji—cool, composed Sanji—turned pink at the ears.

“…Tch. Stupid knife,” he muttered, looking away. “Gonna make me emotional over a hunk of steel.”

You smiled. “Steel’s got feelings too, apparently.”

He shook his head, but there was a softness in his eyes as he went back to scrubbing.

“I always knew that one was special,” he murmured. “But... thanks for telling me.”

You gave the knife a quiet pat. It practically purred in your mind.

“Tell him he makes me feel like art.”

You looked over at Sanji, this man who danced around a kitchen like it was a ballroom, who wielded his tools with precision and pride.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “He really does.”

You hadn’t meant to end up at Mihawk’s castle. That’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

A pitstop, a storm, a bit of misdirection from a smug talking dagger who told you “he’s got the best view in the East Blue,” and here you were—on Kuraigana Island, standing in front of the most intimidating sword you’d ever laid eyes on.

Yoru. Black blade. Supreme Grade. Taller than you. Probably older than everyone you’d ever met combined. It radiated authority.

You hadn’t even tried to speak to it yet.

It waited, mounted in quiet glory behind Mihawk, who was calmly sipping wine like you weren’t internally panicking about what this sword was going to say to you.

“I hear you speak to blades,” Mihawk said, not looking at you.

“I do.”

“I presume you’d like to speak to mine.”

“…A little.”

He finally glanced at you, gold eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t speak to just anyone.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “It doesn’t need to. I don’t ask to hear them. I just do.”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “Then proceed.”

You turned to Yoru, stepping close.

The second you entered its aura—because yes, this sword had aura—you heard it.

Rich. Deep. Regal. Like a baritone dipped in ink and forged in centuries of ego.

“Finally. Someone with the taste to recognize me.”

“Oh boy,” you muttered under your breath.

“You may tell the boy—sorry, Dracule Mihawk, Wielder of the Blade Supreme, Greatest Swordsman of the Era—that he is… doing a satisfactory job.”

You blinked. “That’s it? You just want me to tell him he’s adequate?”

A pause. Then—

“…And that I am still undefeated. Still untouched. Still flawless. Unlike that moss-haired one. Wado said he once slipped in mud. Disgraceful.”

You held back a laugh. “You brag more than a sword with arms.”

“My existence is a brag.”

You turned back toward Mihawk, who was watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Well?” he asked.

You cleared your throat.

“Yoru says… you’re doing a satisfactory job.”

He blinked.

You smirked.

“And that it is still undefeated, untouched, and flawless.”

A long pause.

“…Of course it did,” Mihawk muttered.

You hesitated, then added, “Also it wanted me to let you know that Wado thinks Zoro once slipped in mud. So. Clearly, your sword is keeping up with the gossip.”

Mihawk took a very long sip of wine.

“I expect you to never repeat this,” he said flatly.

You gave Yoru a wink. “No promises.”

As you turned to leave, Yoru called out—low and proud:

“Tell me—did the chef’s knife like his compliment?”

You blinked.

“…How do you know about that?”

“We all talk, child. You think I don’t keep tabs on the competition?”

Oh. Oh no.

Even ancient blades were messy little gossip gremlins.

You weren’t supposed to be here overnight.

And yet, here you were: Mihawk’s castle guest for the evening, curled up in a surprisingly cozy chair by the fireplace with a cup of hot tea, while the man himself read quietly across from you.

You hadn’t spoken much. Mihawk wasn’t the chatty type. But the sword? Oh, Yoru had no such issue.

“You’re slouching.”

You frowned. “I’m not slouching.”

“Your spine is curved like an inferior blade.”

You glanced at Mihawk, whispering from behind your mug, “Yoru says I’m slouching.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “Yoru says that to everyone.”

You leaned closer to the sword, which rested behind Mihawk’s chair like a smug throne.

“You ever say anything nice?”

“I allowed you to address me directly. That’s the highest honor I offer.”

You stared. “That’s… genuinely the most pompous sentence I’ve heard from an inanimate object.”

“I’m not inanimate. I’m revered.”

Mihawk finally sighed, turning a page. “Yoru, must you?”

“He needs the practice. You’ve been brooding at the fireplace like an oil painting all day. I’m carrying this conversation.”

You snorted into your tea.

“Also, remind him,” Yoru added, voice dropping dramatically, “that it is time to oil my hilt. I detected dryness. This is unacceptable.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh. “You have dryness detection?”

“Superior craftsmanship has superior needs.”

Mihawk glanced up at you, then at the sword.

“…Did it say something ridiculous again?”

“Yes,” you said, barely holding it together. “It wants you to moisturize it.”

“I do oil it,” he muttered, clearly offended.

“Not last Tuesday. You skipped.”

You fell off the chair laughing.

Yoru, ever composed: “She is unworthy of my presence.”

You wiped your eyes. “Then why do you keep talking to me?”

“Because someone must appreciate my glory. And I’ve exhausted Mihawk’s capacity for flattery.”

“I never flattered you,” Mihawk said without looking up.

“You held me up to the moon once.”

“That was a duel. You were reflecting light.”

“It was symbolic.”

You choked.

Later, after Mihawk retreated to his room (muttering something about “blades with superiority complexes”), you sat beside Yoru again in the quiet dark.

“…You really love him, huh?” you asked softly.

There was a pause.

“He is a warrior worthy of me. A craftsman of battle. A bearer of precision, discipline, and solitude.”

You nodded.

“…Also, have you seen how well he grooms his beard? That is commitment.”

You grinned, whispering, “You’re kind of obsessed with him.”

“As he should be with me.”

You leaned back against the stone wall, letting the warmth of the fire and the low hum of Yoru’s self-importance lull you into calm.

Maybe you didn’t mean to stay here. But honestly? You could get used to this.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped onto the Polar Tang wasn’t the crew. Or the high-tech submarine layout. Or even Law himself, who was exactly as grumpy and sharp-featured as you expected.

It was the sword.

Kikoku.

You didn’t even have to look directly at it to feel it watching you. Not menacing. Not hostile.

Just… wary.

You’d felt cursed swords. Wild ones. Vengeful ones. But Kikoku wasn’t like them. It wasn’t cursed. It was careful.

You didn’t speak to it right away.

Law met you in the upper hall with a raised brow and crossed arms. “You’re the one who talks to swords?”

You nodded. “They talk to me, mostly.”

“Tch. Great,” he muttered. “Just don’t touch anything.”

“Don’t plan to,” you said, and then, softer, to Kikoku: “May I?”

There was a long pause. Then, softly—softer than any blade you'd ever heard—

“…You’re not with the Marines?”

Your breath caught. “No. Definitely not.”

“You're not with the World Government? Cipher Pol?”

“No.”

“You don't plan to experiment on anyone while you're here?”

“…Also no.”

Kikoku exhaled—if a sword could do that.

“Alright.” A pause. “You can talk to me. But keep your voice down. He's always listening.”

You glanced at Law, who was standing just far enough away to look disinterested.

Yeah, that tracks.

You stepped a little closer to Kikoku, careful not to make sudden moves. “You okay?”

“I am functional. I would be better if he got more than four hours of sleep a night and remembered to eat food that wasn’t coffee and spite.”

You smiled. “Should I tell him that?”

“…Yes. But phrase it gently. He pretends not to care, but he does.”

You turned to Law, who looked extremely done with your presence already.

“Kikoku says you should sleep more.”

Law blinked. “You asked it that?”

“Nope. It told me on its own.”

You paused, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Also said you live on coffee and spite.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“…Tch. It talks too much,” he muttered, brushing past you toward the bridge.

Kikoku, smug now: “He heard me. That’s what matters.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning. “You’re a softie.”

“He won’t listen to anyone else. If I have to nag him myself, so be it.”

You liked this sword. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t gloat. It didn’t care about power or titles.

It cared. About its wielder. About his health. About keeping him safe.

It whispered like a quiet protector in the middle of a warzone.

You looked after Law as he stomped down the hall, coat flaring like always.

“Hey, Kikoku?”

“Yes?”

“…If he ever needs help, I’ll be around. Just whisper.”

“…Thank you.”

You weren’t technically snooping.

You just happened to be in the Polar Tang’s small medbay, tidying up after helping Bepo rewrap a sprained paw, when Kikoku—leaning quietly in the corner, within arm’s reach of Law’s desk—whispered to you again.

“He had another nightmare last night.”

You froze, hand still on the edge of the cabinet. “…About Flevance?”

“No. Corazon.”

That made your chest squeeze a little.

Kikoku wasn’t like the other swords. It didn’t speak unless it had to. And it never gossiped.

So if it brought something up… it mattered.

“Does he talk about him?” you asked quietly.

“Never. But sometimes he mutters his name in his sleep. Apologizes to him. Tells him it wasn’t supposed to go that way.”

You turned to the blade, frowning. “Why tell me this?”

“Because you’re the only one who listens. And he won’t say it himself.”

“…You want me to say something to him?”

“I want him to stop carrying everything alone. If that means you talk to him, fine. But don’t push.”

Just then, the door opened behind you.

“Talking to my sword again?” Law said flatly, stepping in with a clipboard.

You didn’t jump—barely.

“I was just…” You paused. “Yeah. I was.”

Law raised a brow. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I realize how ridiculous you sound, constantly pretending you don’t want people to care.”

His eyes narrowed.

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Kikoku just… it worries about you. That’s all.”

Law scoffed, moving past you toward the desk. “Swords don’t worry.”

“Kikoku does.”

He set the clipboard down harder than necessary.

“…And what did it say this time?”

You hesitated. “That you had a nightmare.”

That stopped him cold.

You added, gently, “That you talked to Corazon.”

Silence. Heavy and tense.

You didn’t fill it. Not this time.

Law slowly turned, shoulders stiff. “I don’t talk about that.”

“I know. And you don’t have to. But you don’t have to carry it by yourself either.”

His jaw clenched.

“Look,” you said, stepping closer, “Kikoku isn’t trying to betray you. It’s worried. I’m not here to drag your past out of you. I’m just… here. If you want someone to talk to.”

Law looked at you for a long moment. Eyes searching. Calculating. Vulnerable, maybe—just a crack behind the walls.

Then he looked away.

“…Tch. Tell Kikoku to mind its own business.”

You smiled faintly. “It did. That’s why it told me.”

You turned to go, pausing at the door.

“Kikoku’s a good sword,” you said over your shoulder. “And you’re not alone, even if you keep pretending you are.”

You left the room in silence.

Behind you, Kikoku whispered, ever so softly: “…Thank you.”

It started out simple.

You were at a neutral dockside tavern with the Straw Hats and Law’s crew, sharing a temporary alliance and, supposedly, a peaceful meal.

You had barely touched your drink before Kikoku whispered in your head:

“They’re here.”

You looked up to see Zoro walking in, swords strapped across his hip, expression set to ‘grumpy and ready to duel.’

“Oh boy,” you muttered.

Then Wado Ichimonji chimed in—loud, dramatic, already fired up.

“I smell that blade. The smug one. The one with the silence complex.”

“Wado, please don’t start.”

“I never start. I finish. Tell the butter knife to sheath its judgment.”

Kikoku, cool and sharp: “Your wielder can’t even find the front door without walking into a tree.”

“Okay, that’s—”

Wado: “He’s got spirit.”

Kikoku: “He’s got concussions.”

You choked on your drink.

Zoro and Law sat down across from each other like two cats about to hiss. You sat between them like a hostage.

“I know you’re listening to them,” Zoro muttered to you.

“Don’t drag me into this,” you hissed. “They’re being ridiculous.”

Law looked equally annoyed. “Kikoku never talks like this.”

You turned to him. “Maybe because she’s never had to be in the same room as that one,” you said, gesturing to Sandai Kitetsu, who was screaming in the background.

“FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.”

“Not helping,” Kikoku snapped.

Zoro narrowed his eyes at Law. “Your sword thinks I’m stupid, doesn’t it?”

Law sipped his drink. “That’s because you are.”

You groaned and put your head on the table.

Meanwhile, Shusui had entered the chat like a war general summoned from retirement:

“We should settle this with an honorable duel.”

Kikoku: “You’ve been retired for five owners. Sit down.”

Sandai: “I will SETTLE THIS BY BITING THE OTHER SWORD’S HANDLE.”

Wado: “Tell the emo blade to respect its elders.”

Kikoku: “Tell the museum piece to update its technique.”

At that point, you stood up so fast your chair nearly fell backward.

“I am not facilitating a steel-themed group therapy session right now. You four can air your issues without me as the interpreter.”

Law: “You’re the only one who can understand them.”

You: “And I would like to not die of psychic sword-related migraines today, thanks!”

The entire table stared.

Then Brook leaned in, cheerful as ever. “Yohoho! So are the swords dating or fighting?”

“They’re doing both,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Kikoku and Wado: “We are not dating.” “I have standards.”

Sandai: “...I’m open to a polycule.”

Zoro stood. “I’m leaving before someone stabs someone, and it’s me.”

Law nodded. “I second that.”

You sighed, gathering your things. “Next time I’m bringing duct tape. For the scabbards. And my own ears.”

As they left, you heard the swords start back up again—Wado muttering insults, Kikoku returning fire with surgical precision.

And in the background:

“FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.”

You were finally back aboard the Sunny, the sun warming your shoulders as the sea stretched endlessly in every direction. Peaceful. Blissful.

Or at least, it was, until Luffy burst onto the deck holding a cutlass, a bread knife, and a rusty kitchen cleaver like a kid who just found treasure.

“DO THESE TALK?!” he shouted, shoving them toward you.

You blinked, gently pushing the bread knife away from your face. “Luffy, where did you get these?”

“Found them in a barrel! They were just sitting there! Like, waiting to be alive!”

You sighed. “Okay, but—wait. That cleaver is literally still covered in jam.”

“SO DOES IT TALK?”

You closed your eyes and concentrated.

The cutlass: “I was once wielded by a man named Jerry who only knew how to scream and swing. It was exhausting.”

The bread knife: “I'm not technically a weapon. I was forged for croissants. Please stop using me for melons.”

The cleaver: “…I yearn for peace. I miss the days of slicing fruit and feeling needed.”

You opened your eyes. “They’re tired.”

Luffy gasped. “THEY HAVE FEELINGS?!”

“Yes. Mostly exhaustion.”

Brook appeared beside you, gentle smile in place, holding his cane sword. “May I?”

You took it with care.

The second your hand touched the hilt, you felt it. Not just voice, but emotion. Waves of grief, laughter, music. The weight of time. Of silence. Of death and persistence.

And then—warmth.

“…He still plays for them. Every night, even if they can’t hear. I remember each note.”

You swallowed hard. “Your sword remembers your crew, Brook.”

Brook tilted his skull. “Oh?”

You nodded. “Every performance. Every time you stood beside them. Every time you wept while you played.”

A soft pause from the blade.

“He’s kind. Gentle. A little forgetful. He sometimes uses me to stir soup.”

Brook laughed. “Yohoho! I did do that once!”

“But… he remembers them. Always. Even when he forgets where he left me.”

You looked at Brook, voice quiet. “It says you’re the reason it never went dull. That your heart, even now, is sharp enough for both of you.”

Brook put a hand over his chest. “That is… deeply moving. Thank you, (Y/N).”

The blade hummed in your hand, full of music.

Later that night, you sat alone at the ship’s railing, feet dangling off the edge, gazing at the stars. You’d talked to so many swords—heard chaos, tragedy, bragging, battle cries, jokes. So many voices.

And for the first time… silence.

But not lonely silence.

Just… peace.

Your own blade rested beside you, quiet and still.

You smiled. “Thanks for sticking with me.”

It didn’t speak.

It didn’t need to.

You already knew.

#x reader #one piece #luffy #sanji #reader insert #nico robin #nami #tony tony chopper #usopp

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

Brighter Than a Supernova | Bob Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister

Summary: Bob planned to simply stop by Phoenix's Hanukkah party for a few minutes before heading back home. He'd hang out with the guys for a bit, even though he never quite felt like he fit in with them, and he'd meet the little sister Phoenix often referred to as annoying. But he had no idea how bright and magical one night could be compared to every other night that had come before.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, feeling insecure, loss of virginity, smut, drinking

Length: 9000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister (OC)

This was written for the Winter RomCom Challenge hosted by @bellaireland1981! Check my masterlist for more. Beautiful banner made by @ryebecca

"Bob, you're coming over tomorrow night, right?"

When he turned to look at his friend, Bob couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that washed over him. "I think so."

Natasha sighed and reached for his hand and gave him a little squeeze. He hadn't been at Top Gun as long as everyone else, and he felt like he didn't really fit in with them. Even now, the other guys were all hooting and playing keep away with Reuben's phone while Bob stood off to the side on the tarmac.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. It's just a Hanukkah party," she whispered with a smile. She always seemed to be able to tell when he got lost in his own thoughts, and he would be forever grateful that she was the pilot he got to fly with.

He shook his head and looked over at their Super Hornet. "I've never been to one before," he muttered. "And I'll probably just end up sitting quietly all night."

Now Natasha was squeezing both of his hands. "But we already drew names for our gift exchange. And you won't be the only one newer to the group. My obnoxious little sister, Nova, is coming in from New York, remember? She's graduating from college in the spring? She hasn't met any of the guys yet."

"But-"

"Bob, I really want you to come," she said firmly, looking up at him with her dark brown eyes. He trusted her in the air, he might as well trust her on the ground, too.

"Okay. I'll be there."

But when Bob parked his truck in front of Phoenix's tiny house on Saturday evening, his hands were shaking slightly as he held the wrapped gift. He absolutely hated that he got this way around the guys. They hadn't done anything to make him feel this way, really. He just generally didn't fit in anywhere, something he was very aware of at age twenty eight. But he would do this for Natasha.

He climbed out of his truck with the gift and a bottle of wine and walked up to the front door. Should he knock? Or just walk inside? It sounded noisy even out here, so after he tapped on the door a few times and nobody opened it, he just let himself in.

"Bob's here!" Jake called out from the couch, waving him over to where he was drinking a beer while Javy tried to spin two dreidels at the same time.

"Bob!" Natasha practically shouted as she ran his way. He had to juggle the bottle of wine so he didn't drop it. "Can you help me make latkes? Nova and I have been peeling potatoes for what feels like hours, and now we're heating up the oil."

"I don't know how to make latkes," he told her, but his eyes caught on the woman standing in the kitchen laughing at Bradley. He could only see her profile, but she had long, dark brown hair just like Natasha. Only she was a little taller and a bit curvier, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, he wanted to run and hide.

"It's easy, Bob. It's just a potato pancake. Nothing scary," Natasha whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "Come meet Nova, and you can help us cook."

He swallowed hard, realizing that the brunette goddess holding a potato peeler in one while she smiled directly at him was Natasha's little sister. The one she always referred to as obnoxious and annoying. This was... decidedly not what he had imagined.

Bob didn't know where to look. Every part of her was so pretty. She was wearing black leggings and a cropped long sleeve shirt that was purple and said NYU on the front. He could see some of the soft looking skin just above her leggings, and his eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. She was barefoot with neon orange painted toenails that for some reason made Bob a little short of breath.

"Bob, this is my sister Nova," Nat told him, rubbing his back gently as his gaze wandered back up along her curves. His eyes landed on her face as Natasha said, "Nova, this is Bob. Please don't annoy him."

"Hi," she said with a little smirk on her face. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached her hand out to him. "I've heard a lot about you, Bob."

He was terrified that he would stutter or trip over his words, but he just said something stupid instead. "You don't look annoying."

She laughed as she shook his hand. "Oh, I can assure you, I am." Her eyes were the same color as her sister's, but they were looking at him playfully as she nibbled on her lip. It was easy to tell Nova and Natasha were sisters, but there were some differences, too. Bob had the fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind just looking at her all night until he identified them all.

"Feel free to ignore her," Nat told him as she went to stand in front of the stove. "I usually do."

"I don't see how that would be possible," Bob murmured, and Nova laughed again before he realized what he'd said. He could feel his cheeks flush as he tried to look at anything besides her, but as soon as he did, Bradley dove for her attention.

"So tell me all about New York CIty," he said as if he'd never heard of it before. This was fine though. Better even. Nova and Bradley could just flirt all night, and Bob could help cook and then probably leave soon. That way everyone would win.

After a few minutes, he desperately wanted to ask Natasha if they could cook any faster so he could open his impersonal gift from one of the guys and get going. But he found that making latkes was actually pretty enjoyable.

"That's too much egg," she told him, laughing at his messy hands as his glasses slid down his nose. "You need more flour." But her hands were a mess, too, and Bob was trying to adjust his glasses on his shoulder.

When he turned to the side, he saw Bradley, Mickey and Jake all talking to Nova, but she was actually looking right at him as he very awkwardly shrugged his shoulder against his glasses. "I got you, Bob," she said, closing the distance to him and helping him out. She adjusted his frames on his face, and then she ran her fingers along his hair and behind his ears. "Better?"

He watched her pull her hands away and wished she wouldn't. "Yes," he whispered. "Thank you." Then he just stared at her as she made no move to back away.

"You're welcome. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

He swallowed hard as he washed his hands and shook his head. "This is my... first time."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Perfect! You can help me light the candles, and I can teach you the prayers."

"Might as well light the menorah now," Natasha told her as she flipped some of the squishy looking potato blobs over in the hot oil. The kitchen smelled like fried food, and there was a huge box of donuts that the other guys already got into. Javy brought the dreidels into the kitchen, and he was currently spinning five at one time. This holiday actually didn't seem so bad. Especially when Nova reached for his hand.

"Gather around," she announced with the kind of confidence Bob would never have, and all the guys followed her to the other side of the island. But she kept Bob right there with her and smiled up at him. "Here you go," she said, handing him the lighter. Then she stuck some candles in the menorah.

"Don't you light them from left to right?" Bradley asked as he sipped a beer and ate a jelly donut while glaring at Bob.

"Yes!" she replied as she put the last candle in for the eighth night.

"You want me to light them for you, Bob?" Bradley asked, and Bob was just about to hand the lighter over when Nova reached for his hand.

"I'm going to say a really pretty prayer in Hebrew about how Hanukkah is a time to celebrate miracles," she told him, seemingly ignoring the rest of the guys as Jake started whining that he was hungry. But Bob was transfixed. He was suddenly dying to hear this prayer. He could see the light smattering of freckles on Nova's cheeks as he stood this close to her. He never noticed before if Nat had freckles.

It would be a Hanukkah miracle if Bob could get through the evening. When she told him to light the center candle and then pick it up, he did. And then her hand joined his as they lit the candles together, but Bob wasn't looking at the menorah. He was looking at her face and the way her lips moved as she almost sang the prayer. Then he kept his hand on hers as long as he could, the warm candlelight making her face glow.

When she dropped her hand to her side, Bob could feel her fingers kind of tangle with his, and he had no idea what to do about it. He was suddenly painfully aware that he'd never had a girlfriend before, and he almost wished she was paying this much attention to someone else.

"Latkes are done!" Natasha announced, and Bob took a step away from Nova. He cleared his throat and then turned to leave the kitchen as everyone else made a dash for the food. When he retreated for the relative quiet of the powder room, he could feel dark eyes on his back.

Bob realized he'd been in the bathroom for long enough that someone might think he was sick, but he couldn't stop splashing cool water on his face. He had been prepared for something else tonight, but not this. Maybe Nova was just an annoying little sister to Phoenix, but to him, she was exquisite. He needed to leave now before he could embarrass himself more.

After he dried his hands, he quietly opened the door, but then he paused. He could hear voices. Two female voices, and he could easily tell them apart as he stood there eavesdropping.

"Natasha, you lied to me," Nova whispered loudly. "You said Bob was kind of nerdy!"

Oh no. She must have thought Bob was extremely nerdy. Perhaps he could make a run for the front door, and maybe nobody would notice he'd gone.

"I mean, he is," Natasha replied softly.

"No, he's not!" Nova hissed. "He's hot! You know I have a thing for glasses and biceps, you rotten liar!"

Now Bob was frozen in place. He was pretty sure they were talking about him, but there was a chance he misheard.

"Nova," Natasha snapped a little louder this time. "Bob is one of my best friends, and he's very kind. Do not toy with him."

There was a pause, but then Bob heard her soft response. "I wouldn't. You can tell how sweet he is from a mile away."

He looked in the mirror one more time before leaving the powder room. It wasn't that he was bad looking, it was just that he was awkward. Compared to the other guys, he was a joke. Maybe Nova somehow hadn't noticed that yet. He forced himself out to the small hallway where the two sisters were standing close together near the kitchen, and the way Nova looked at him just didn't make sense.

"Grab some latkes," she said as he walked past. "I'll save you a spot on the couch for the gift exchange?"

Bob swallowed hard. "Sure. Thank you."

When he ducked into the kitchen, he heard her whisper to Nat, "He has nice manners, too."

Nat groaned. "I can't believe you have a crush on my WSO."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have kept this information from me."

Bob was anxiously piling a plate with more latkes than he could probably finish when Nova flounced into the room, picked up her half empty glass of wine along with an unused one and winked at him. "I'll be in the living room, and I have a glass for you," she said.

He looked down at the potato concoctions on his plate, and they looked good. He tried a bite, and it was delicious, but he'd lost his appetite. Nova Trace had a crush on him, and now he had to go sit with her and drink some wine without looking like a moron.

After a few more bites, he pushed his plate aside and headed to the living room where she was sitting right next to Bradley. He had his arm draped across the back of the couch a little possessively, and Bob froze, blinking at the scene before him. He had the undeniable urge to remove Bradley's arm and wrap her up with own.

"Bob," she called, scooting away from Bradley and patting the cushion. Once he squeezed in between her and Bradley, he realized he was touching her no matter what he did. And then she took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, leaning back against his chest a little bit. "It's a tight fit," she said, handing him a glass of wine.

"Seriously?" Bradley grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Bob wasn't sure what to say as he had an armful of the cute girl who was in demand. This was all new to him. So he just drank all of his wine and pretended to watch everyone open their gifts.

When he set his empty glass down on the table, Nat handed him a small box wrapped in silver paper. He didn't recognize the pretty handwriting that said To: Bob.

"Oh," Nova whispered, reaching for it. "You don't have to open it."

"It's from you?" Bob asked, and she looked up at him over her shoulder, face just inches from his.

"Yeah, but it just seems kind of dumb now," she muttered, playing with the hem of her top. "Nat made it seem like you were super nerdy or something," she laughed. "And clearly that's not the case. You're hot."

Bob chuckled; this whole entire night was completely absurd. "I've never been called hot before."

Nova rolled her eyes. "You know what? Just go ahead and open your present," she said, shoving the small box closer to his chest while she blushed.

Bob started to carefully tear into the paper when Bradley leaned across Bob and asked, "I'm sorry, Nova, but did you just call Bob hot?"

"Yes," she replied immediately.

Bradley stood and grunted while he put on the hat that Javy just gave him that said 100% Certified Fuckboy. "She picked Bob. Nice work man," he said, patting Bob's shoulder. "Who needs a beer?"

"I do," Nat told him as she eyed Bob and Nova together on the couch with curiosity. Bob wasn't sure what he should even say to her. It wasn't like he was going to date her sister or something. She lived in New York.

"Open it," Nova whispered. "Just open it so I can get my embarrassment over with."

Bob couldn't believe she seemed more embarrassed about the gift than she did about announcing to the room at large that she found him attractive. When he took the lid off the box and looked inside, it was filled with a set of sky blue dice.

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh. "Nat said you play Dungeons and Dragons, and I found the dice and thought they were pretty, and now I'm noticing that they're kind of the same shade as your eyes." She took the box from him, put the lid on and set it aside.

"Wait," he said, reaching across her to pick it up again. "I do play. And light blue is my favorite color. How did you know?"

"I didn't," she said, cheeks pink. "It's my favorite color, too."

He could see her freckles again as she grinned so close to him. Bob suddenly realized that the living room was getting loud as he held the box between his body and hers. "Thank you. I really like them. I was a little afraid to see what the guys were going to buy for me, so I'm glad it was from you."

"Nat dropped down on the couch on the other side of Bob as she spun the keychain around her finger that Bob got for her. "Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek as the airplane charm hit her palm. The guys were spinning as many dreidels on the coffee table as they could while fighting over the mound of chocolate candy coins. "You know, if it's a little too loud, you could always step outside for a minute," she told him, patting his thigh before joining the guys.

"Let's take a break," Nova said as she stood and pulled him to his feet. Bob felt like Nat had just given him some sort of permission. But for what? "I could use a break as well. It's hot in here."

She opened the front door and slipped out into the darkness on the small porch, and Bob joined her, closing the door and stifling the sounds inside. "Aren't your feet going to get cold?" he asked softly, looking down at her neon toenails.

"Good call," she replied before wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tops of his shoes. Bob's hands went to the soft curve of her waist immediately, startled by the sudden turn of events that had Nova's body pressed to his. "Is this okay?" she asked casually, looking up at him as she let her fingers trail down his neck.

His body was throbbing in delight as his brain cried out in terror. "Y-Yes. It's... very okay. You're very pretty." His eyes went wide as she laughed, and it sounded too intimate this close. He could feel her bare skin against his fingertips, and it was so soft. Softer than anything. He couldn't help the way he let his palms spread out on her back, as he blurted out, "I like you."

He noticed her soft smile first, and then her eyes closed. Bob was admiring how her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she said, "I like you, too." And then she kissed him. She just kissed him. It was suddenly time for kissing. And then it was over before Bob really got to enjoy it. Nova was looking up at him like she was trying to gauge his reaction, but he just stood there trying to figure out what to do next.

Her fingers stilled on his neck before she released him and tried to step away, her face falling into a much shyer look. But he kept his hands on her back. Her lips were softly parted, and Bob wanted them on his again. Even though he wasn't quite sure if he was doing any of it right, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers a little too hard at first.

She moaned softly as she brought her hands back up around his neck, and Bob eased himself back a little bit, making the kiss softer. This felt good. She had smooth skin and eager lips, and now her fingers were in his hair as her cheek bumped his glasses. He felt like he was getting the hang of things when she parted her lips and tasted his tongue.

Bob's hands slid down to grab at her hips through her leggings, and Nova laughed softly as she tasted him again. The soft vibrations against his lips had him more aware of his body than he ever had been before, but not in a bad way. He seemed to be making her feel excited as she wiggled her curvy hips back and forth slightly in his hands.

Nova broke the kiss and raked her fingers along his forehead and back through his tidy hair. "You smell good," she told him, leaning in close again and running her nose along his neck. "Like... something outdoorsy mixed with a fried potato."

He couldn't help but laugh as she kissed the spot next to his Adam's apple. "That sounds like it would smell bad."

"It doesn't," she reassured him with a giggle. "It just makes me want to taste you." Bob had to press his lips together and count to ten in his head as Nova ran her tongue in a slow and steady stripe up his neck to his ear. When her lips met his earlobe, his hands on her hips were pulling her body closer to his as she said, "I could eat you up."

She was still standing on the tops of his feet, but now Bob had her back pressed against the doorframe. They were making out, and it was all coming pretty naturally for him. She kissed his neck and told him something sweet, so he decided to go ahead and try the same thing. "I think I love kissing you," he said, his voice raspier than normal as she tipped her head back.

Nova was moaning his name as he kissed the front of her neck, and she pressed her thigh against him. And oh no... Bob had an erection. She didn't seem bothered, but he pulled himself a few inches away from her and looked down at her pretty face. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.

"Should we?" he asked softly, sliding his hands back up to her waist as she shrugged.

"Probably. But I'm sure they all know exactly what we're doing out here."

His eyes went wide. "They do?"

She smiled and ran her fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'd venture to guess they know we were making out, Bob."

How was he supposed to go back inside now? He thought about just leaving; his truck was parked right there on the street. But he didn't want to go without his new dice. Or Nova.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah... maybe we should go back in."

"Okay." But first she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pressed one more soft kiss to his lips. "Just let me know if you want to take another break, because I'd be more than happy to tag along."

Then she opened the door, and the bright light and loud laughter coming from inside were enough to have him reaching for Nova's hand as she stepped down from his feet and onto the living room floor. She looked back at him with a coy smile as she laced her fingers with his. It was so obvious that they had been kissing. Bob knew he was blushing, and her lips looked a little puffy from the way he'd been enjoying them. When Jake fist bumped him as they walked past, Javy winked, and Bradley was on the couch with Nat pouting.

But Nat smiled and shook her head as Nova led Bob into the kitchen. "Want some more wine?" she asked, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator. There was something about the way she looked in the semi darkness as the candles from the menorah burned low. Her face was cast in warm light as well as shadows, and Bob found that leaning down to kiss her again was the most natural thing in the world.

The cold bottle was pressed to his arm, and she kissed him back. When Bob opened his eyes again, his glasses were crooked and two of the candles had burned out. The kitchen was even darker now as she pecked his cheek and then strolled out into the living room. He took a few seconds to consider that now he'd initiated more kisses than she had. The desire to follow her and kiss her again was so strong, he almost tripped when he thought about her going back to New York. Had he ever felt this way about a girl after a few hours? No. Absolutely not.

He knew he should have found another place to sit in Nat's tiny, loud living room, but when he saw the spot on the couch next to Nova was empty, he couldn't force his steps in any other direction. She tracked him with her eyes, clearly feeling no shame about what was happening here.

"How much have the rest of you had to drink?" she asked the guys. Jake was laying on the floor laughing while Javy tried to spin a dreidel on his nose. Bradley's cheeks were bright red, and he was half asleep at the other end of the couch. Mickey actually was asleep in the armchair. The only one who looked okay was Reuben.

"A lot," Javy said. "We turned dreidels into a drinking game, and clearly Nat is better than the rest of us." Nat winked at Nova who winked back. "And Mickey can't hold his liquor for shit."

Nova laughed at him in the armchair. "Is that a WSO thing, Bob? Or can you handle another glass of wine?" she teased.

"I can handle what you give me," he replied before he could consider how that might sound. She gasped softly and kind of nodded as she poured some more into his glass from earlier.

"I guess we'll find out."

She tapped her glass to his, and they joined in the game with the others. Bob had never played before, but he was a quick study. It certainly didn't hurt that Nova kept touching his hands as she taught him what to do. And two glasses of wine later, Bob felt lighter and more carefree. His right hand was resting on her lower back, and she leaned in to his side as the game progressed. And the best part was, Nat seemed more than okay with this.

In fact, as midnight was fast approaching, Nat stood and stretched. "I'm beat. I don't care who stays over, but Nova is in the extra bedroom, so the rest of you can fight over the couches."

Bradley and Mickey both snored in response while Reuben started to gather Jake and Javy off the floor. "I'll drop the two of you off," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Nova. Thanks, Nat."

"Thanks, Nat," Javy and Jake echoed as Nat waved. Nova blew them each a kiss.

Once they were gone, Nat started to gather up the empty wine bottles to take them into the kitchen, and Bob figured he should get ready to go as well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked his friend, but she just waved him off. "No, I insist," he added.

He picked up some more of the trash the guys left, and as soon as he and Nova both stood, Bradley stretched out on the couch. "Just leave the rest of the mess. It's honestly fine. We can clean it up tomorrow," Nat said as she looked at her sister.

Nova nodded. "Yeah, I'll help you clean everything when we wake up."

They carried the trash they had already gathered in their arms to the kitchen, and then Nat hugged her sister before kissing Bob's cheek. "I'm assuming I'll see you again quite soon," she told him with an amused expression before she headed for the stairs.

Bob wasn't sure exactly what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. Right now he had to figure out a way to say goodbye to the woman in front of him. He wondered if there was some way he could tell her that the few hours he spent with her somehow meant something to him. If she lived in San Diego, he thought he would very much like to take her to dinner. Maybe he could figure out a way to say so without completely ruining the moments they'd shared tonight.

"Nova, I-"

It was time for more kissing. She didn't hesitate at all, almost like she felt as comfortable with this as he did. Her hand found the bottom of Bob's tee shirt and eased the fabric up so her palm could rest flat on his abs. She nibbled gently on his lip before she let him taste her tongue. She was sweet like wine. Then his hands were back on her hips again as she eased his shirt up a little further.

"You had a lot to drink," she whispered with a wink, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Maybe you should come upstairs with me?" Bob wasn't drunk in the least, and he thought he knew what she meant. When his posture stiffened, she looked up at him. "It's just a twin bed, but we can both fit. If you want."

"You mean to... sleep?" he asked, embarrassed that he had to confirm instead of just knowing how to do things.

Her hand glided down to the top of his jeans, and she laughed softly. "We don't have to mess around," she said as she kissed his lips softly. "But I don't think I can keep my lips away from yours."

When Bob nodded in agreement, heart pounding rapidly, she took him by the hand. Mickey and Bradley were both sound asleep in the living room where Bob made sure to grab his box of dice. Then he let Nova lead him upstairs.

She looked back to smile at him a few times and tugged on his hand when he started to fall behind. Once they were in the extra bedroom with the soft lamplight and the door closed, Nova seemed a little more hesitant.

"Well, there's the twin bed," she said, gesturing toward it before putting her hands on her hips. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed as she looked at the floor. "And I mean, obviously this was all a ploy to get to spend more time with you. But also, I don't think you should drive home after drinking so much wine." She paused before adding, "But mostly I just kind of thought maybe you and I could keep talking and making out."

Bob smiled when she looked up at him. "Yeah, I would like that."

She bit her lip, and Bob swore he had never in his life seen a woman who was so eager to be around him. He toed off his shoes before reaching for her hand again. And then he decided he was going to go for it. He was going to say what was on his mind as they both sat down on the edge of the bed together.

"Hey, Nova? I..." he paused as he looked at her pretty face, and he had to clear his throat before he kept going. "You're really... I like you a lot, and I just wanted you to know that if you lived in San Diego, I would ask you on a date."

She scooted a little closer and let her hand come to rest on his thigh. "Where would you take me?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jaw as he stuttered.

"I would... I'd take you to um, a restaurant that I like called Starlite. It's in the city. It's really pretty inside at night, and they have fairy lights and champagne. And I think you'd look beautiful sitting at one of the tables with me."

"Oh my god," she moaned against his jaw, and Bob had absolutely no control over how his body was reacting to her. "Tell me more."

He tried to keep talking as she moved her hand further up his thigh, but he wasn't sure he was making sense. "I'd get you whatever you wanted, of course. But the steak is really good, so I'd ask if you wanted that. And. And I'd be hoping the waiter was really slow, because you'd look so pretty with the soft lights all around you. I'd want to keep you there with me as long as I could."

"I want to go," Nova whispered, kissing his ear. "I can practically picture it."

Bob closed his eyes, willing his cock to stop having a mind of its own as her fingers went as high as the bottoms of his boxer briefs. If she kept this up, Bob would have to excuse himself, and he really didn't want to leave her right now. Then she straddled his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Bob's arms were full of her.

"I wish we could," he whispered, unsure what to do with his hands. "I'd take you there tomorrow, but Nat told me you're flying back east in the evening." He finally let his hands settle on her waist as she nodded sadly.

"I am," she said as her lips brushed his. "But just humor me. Would you kiss me at Starlite?"

"I'd have to," he replied immediately. "It would be mandatory. All the light and shadows on your face... you'd be ethereal. And if you were looking at me, I wouldn't be able to help myself."

"Bob," she moaned against his lips, nibbling on him softly as her fingers went to his hair. "And where would you take me for our second date?"

He laughed as she licked his tongue. "You'd go out with me a second time?"

"You're joking right?" Nova asked, pulling back a few inches as she played with his hair. "This is all hypothetical, and it's still the best date I've ever been on."

"Okay," Bob replied, and he couldn't help but smile as she nodded for him to go on. "For our second date, I'd take you to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater."

"What would we watch?" she asked, smiling as Bob let his hands drift up a little bit under her shirt.

He shrugged. "Probably a foreign film. You'd think it was cool, but I'd just be watching the way the colorful lights flickered across your face."

She squeaked softly. "Can we pretend we're at the theater now?"

"Sure," he whispered with a smile. "We're at the theater. You look beautiful, reading all the subtitles. But I lost track of the plot of the film already."

"Why's that?" she asked with a grin.

"Can't pay attention to anything except you."

She pushed on his chest until he was laying on his back, her long hair brushing the side of his face as she leaned down to kiss him. She was rubbing herself against his hard length through his jeans and making little sounds that he'd never heard before. His hands were stroking higher, and he could feel her bra with his fingertips. He didn't want any of this to stop.

"Now you seem like a respectable guy, Bob," she murmured. "Would you take me home with you after our second date or make me wait until our third?"

Oh no. Bob loosened his grip on her as he went silent. Nova was still kissing her way across his cheek to his ear when her movements slowed. She eyed him curiously before nudging the rim of his glasses with her nose.

"Bob?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I've never... taken a girl home before."

She looked down at him with a soft smile on her lips. "What?" she asked as she pushed her fingers back through his hair.

Bob was terrified that she would stop touching him as soon as he said the words. She was so lovely, gravitating right to him all night just the same way he subconsciously felt like he wanted to be near her. He already recognized that he could fall for his friend's little sister. Maybe he already had.

He took a deep breath as he adjusted his glasses. She was waiting for him to respond, and there was no point in lying about it now. "I'm a virgin."

Nova's brow creased, and her lips parted wordlessly. She examined his face, probably trying to see if he was lying, because there's no way someone his age shouldn't have lost his virginity by now. And it was a million times worse for a guy than for a girl. He knew that. It was all so very embarrassing.

She didn't laugh, rather she kissed the corner of his lips and simply asked, "How?"

Bob shrugged. "I'm awkward."

"No. You're hot," she replied, shaking her head. "That's not it."

He tried to turn his head and look away, but she followed his gaze until he returned her soft smile. "I'm not really sure," he whispered. "I got close a few times, but it just didn't seem right. That sounds dumb."

"No, it doesn't," she replied, surprising Bob as she kissed him again. "Are you picky?" she asked between each soft press of her lips to his.

"Yeah. Kind of," he told her honestly. "Always have been. Picky about who I spend time with.

She brushed her fingers back through his hair again, and Bob melted at her touch. "That makes sense. A guy like you should be picky."

Somehow Nova was making him feel a lot more normal about this as she wasn't shying away from him. "Picky," he confirmed. "And the timing was never right."

"That's important," she said with a smile. "You have to do what feels good to you."

Bob swallowed hard. He was picky, but he really liked Nova. And for some reason, tonight out of all nights kind of felt right. He could easily blame Nat's Hanukkah party and the soft glow of the menorah candles on Nova's face for getting him to this point. She was on top of him, still kissing him, and he didn't want this to end.

"This feels good to me," he blurted out, reaching up to push his fingers through her dark hair. "Tonight feels right."

She nodded, smiling as she crawled off of him, leaving Bob a little cold as he missed the feeling of her immediately. He sat up on the bed as she crawled up to the pillows and whispered, "Come here." She coaxed him along until she was laying on the pillows and he was on top of her, bracing himself with his arms so he didn't hurt her.

"Okay, so, we already went to Starlite for dinner and then to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. I'll give you until our third date to make your move," she whispered, grinning up at him as she ran he hands up his biceps. "Where are you taking me?"

He took a deep breath; now was not the time for this wave of confidence to falter. "Cliffs beach. I'm packing a picnic, and we can sit in the bed of my truck and watch the sunset while we eat."

Nova moaned again and hooked her leg around Bob's thigh, pulling him impossibly closer. "Dinner was perfect. But now that the sun went down, I'm a little chilly."

"Well, I could keep you warm." He kissed her. "I'd hold you as I tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you wanted to come back to my place."

"I'm wrapped up in your arms, patiently waiting for you to ask," she replied with a smirk.

He nodded, and he knew he was blushing. This whole thing was kind of silly, but it just made sense. "I really like you. I could probably fall for you. If I let myself," he whispered, and she whimpered softly. "Do you want to come back to my place, Nova?"

"Absolutely."

Her hands were all over his face and in his hair, and eventually she took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. She kissed him slowly as she rolled her hips up against his, and Bob blushed as he got hard again. When she carefully pulled his shirt off, she set it next to the pillow, and then she explored his body with her hands. But as soon as she pulled her own NYU shirt off and was laying beneath him, she arched her back.

Bob reached beneath her, and he fumbled for a few seconds before he unhooked her bra. As he pulled the black lace away from her body and looked down at her breasts and her confident face, he marked this as the furthest he'd ever gone with a woman. She seemed to sense he needed a moment as she ran her fingers through his hair as he stuttered, "You're gorgeous."

Nova looked up at him with her playful dark eyes, but right now they seemed a little more serious. "I could probably fall for you, too."

Then his lips were on hers, and his hands went to her breasts gently stroking each soft handful. He could fall for this, he was sure of it. He wanted to take her on all of those dates, and he would have if he could have. He was charmed by her, and she seemed equally interested in him.

"Bob," she moaned, breaking the kiss and tipping her head back as he pushed himself against her core. He brought his lips down to taste her breasts, and soon she was rolling her hips a little faster. "That feels good," she whispered as she looked up at him. "I like that."

Nova responded just like that to everything he did. When he kissed the side of her neck, she blushed a pretty shade of pink. She shivered for him when he ran his fingers down her side. When he paused with his hand just above the top of her leggings, she whispered, "Bob, you're making me kind of crazy."

She guided his hand down a few more inches with her own, but she didn't get annoyed when he took his time pulling her leggings and underwear off. His heart was pounding as he looked at her, completely naked. Maybe she could sense his hesitation, because she sat up, too, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'll tell you if I don't like something, okay? And you do the same?"

He nodded. "I like everything so far. I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't," she promised, taking his face in both of her hands and kissing him softly at first. Then her lips became more demanding, and Bob wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her on top of him. She giggled against his lips before swiping his tongue with her own.

Her fingers roamed his bare torso and found the light trail of hair below his belly button. "I'm going to take your jeans off," she whispered, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them. Her hair was already kind of a mess, and he knew his must have been as well. But then all thoughts left his mind as she started to pull his pants down. Bob wasn't dumb; he knew he was at least average size from the amount of time he'd spent in naval locker rooms. But he was surprised by her soft gasp when she pulled his underwear down far enough that his erection sprang free. Then his jeans, socks and underwear were in a pile at the bottom of the small bed, and he was naked, too.

He grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. This was the best thing he ever felt. Until she kissed him there. "Oh god, Nova. Wait," he moaned, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't we need a condom?"

She responded by licking his length before crawling up his body to kiss his lips. "I can go ask my sister if she has any if you want to use one."

"No!" he gasped, nearly headbutting her as he sat up. "No, don't do that." Bob wasn't sure that Natasha would respond kindly to that question coming from her sister. "Please don't."

But Nova was all smiles as she straddled his waist. "Okay," she whispered as he braced himself with his hand behind him on the bed. "I won't alert Natasha to the fact that we're about to have sex."

Bob sighed in relief and reached out to push her hair behind her ear. "Actually, if you could not mention her again right now, that would be great."

Now she was laughing softly as she scooted up until Bob could feel her wet pussy rubbing his cock. "Promise," she confirmed as he looked up at her face. When he glanced down between them, all he could see was her perfect body and his cock jumping against her in excitement. "I'm on birth control anyway," she whispered, kissing along his jaw. "And I know you're a little nervous, but so am I."

"Why?" he asked, surprised by her words.

Nova hummed as she kissed her way back to his lips. "I want this to feel good for you." She wrapped her arms around his neck as she slowly rolled her hips against him and made the softest sounds. His heart rate picked up as she added, "I want you to think about our hypothetical dates after I'm gone."

He was sure he would be thinking about Nova for a very long time. She was all gentle fingers in his hair and confident smiles. She was beautiful, and Bob could easily get addicted to this.

She guided him to lay back on the pillows as she asked, "You ready?"

"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse as he looked up at her and pushed her hair over one shoulder. When he let his hands trail over the soft skin of her shoulders, breasts and sides, she shivered as she kissed him. Bob could feel her hand around his length, and then his head tipped away from her as he moaned. "Does that feel good?"

Good. That didn't seem like the right word for it, but now his brain felt a little hazy. Nova's lips ghosted over his as he moaned again. She felt tight and inviting, and when she rolled her hips with him inside her like this, Bob gripped her hip a little tighter. His other hand ended up tangled in her hair as he traced her freckled cheek with his thumb. "Nova," he gasped against her lips before devouring her.

Her soft noises got a little louder, and each roll of her hips had Bob praying that this would never end. Every passing second was better than the last. Every time she whispered his name and tasted his tongue was too exciting. When she ended up on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, he kissed her neck and pushed himself deep inside her.

"Oh," she moaned, and he had to slowly shake his head to keep his focus. Her leg was hooked up around his hip, and he was suddenly very aware that he didn't know how to make her orgasm.

"Nova?" he gasped as she reached for his hand. But he should have known she'd be willing to help him with this as she showed him where and how to rub her.

"Fuck," she whined, taking a few gasping breaths. "That feels so good." He kept moving his hips, too, and a few seconds later, as she was nibbling on his lip and whining, he felt her squeezing around him. "Bob. Bob. Bob!"

Her back was arched off the bed, and her breasts bounced with every wild breath she took, and then he had no idea it would all happen so fast for him. He tucked his face against her neck and shoulder as he bucked into her without finesse. He couldn't control it. He came so hard, his vision looked like a kaleidoscope of colors when he opened his eyes. But she was right there, and she was perfect.

He half collapsed against her chest as she played with his hair, and it felt like it might have been a long time before he moved. Bob wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, and even though he thought he should feel timid, he didn't. He felt so relaxed and almost loved as she touched him like this. When he tipped his face up to look at her, she was smiling.

He was picky, and the timing never felt right before now. But Nova was lovely, and tonight was the right night. "My Hanukkah wish is to go on all of those dates with you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as she blushed. "And see how pretty you'd look with the sun setting and all the fairy lights."

She leaned up slightly to kiss his lips. "I wish we could."

As she laced her fingers with his, Bob whispered, "Maybe we can trade phone numbers? And talk until you get tired of me."

She nodded and asked, "And what if I don't ever get tired of you?"

Bob studied her face as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder. "Then we'll go on the dates for real."

Eventually they fell asleep around four in the morning after talking and having sex again. When Bob woke up at nine, it was to Nova's lips on his neck and her voice in his ear. "Morning, Bob."

He just held her a little tighter. When they went downstairs, nobody was surprised they'd spent the night together, not even Nat. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and he ended up staying all day, even after Bradley and Mickey both left. He just wanted to be around Nova for as long as possible, but eventually he had to leave so her sister could take her to the airport. So she could go back to New York.

"I'll miss you," she promised when she walked him out to his truck. She took his phone and saved her number for him.

"Should I text you now? So you have mine, too?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Fair warning, once you text me, I'll write back and probably never stop."

Bob laughed softly and quickly typed up a text to her while she kissed his neck.

I miss you already, and I didn't even leave yet.

Then he kissed her back until her sister started yelling out the front door about going to the airport. "Bye, Bob," Nova whispered before kissing his cheek and bounding back in the house. As he drove away, his phone lit up in the cup holder with a series of texts from her, and he hoped she was telling the truth when she said she wouldn't stop.

----------------------------

Five months later...

"Are you really this nervous to see her again?" Natasha asked him as they walked through JFK airport together. "You've talked to her everyday for months. Hell, you flew out to see her for a weekend in March."

Bob blushed as he thought about those three days when he'd been here during a late winter snowstorm that kept him and Nova inside her apartment for most of the weekend. She'd hardly let him out of her bed. And while they weren't dating, not exactly, Bob knew he wanted to be.

"Yeah, I'm a little nervous. She has no idea I'm here for her graduation. Do you know how hard it was to lie to her?"

Nat laughed as they walked outside in the May sunlight to get a cab to Nova's apartment. Bob was slightly afraid she'd be upset when they got there. Or maybe there would be evidence of another guy. It might break his heart, but he'd have to accept it. But he just couldn't get past that night they spent together during Hanukkah, and he'd been falling in love with her since then. Even over the phone.

"I'm sure she'll be happier to see you than me," Nat told him. It seemed like no time passed at all before they were pulling up to the building he'd only seen once when it was surrounded by a layer of snow.

He got out of the cab and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk as Natasha got her phone out. She looked up at him with a smile as she called her sister. "I'm here," she said before looking at the blank screen. "She screamed and then hung up."

Bob laughed nervously with his backpack on and Nat's hand rubbing his arm in a soothing circle. "If she's not excited to see me, I'll just get a hotel room or try to exchange my ticket for something earlier," he mumbled.

But the next thing he knew, Nova was throwing open the door to her building. She barely looked at her sister before she gasped, "Bob!" and launched herself down the stairs and into his arms.

"Hi," he whispered as she clung to the front of him and shamelessly kissed his lips and neck right in front of her sister. "I missed you."

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him as she let her cheek rest on his chest. "You brought me Bob? Is he my graduation present?" she asked Natasha as Bob ran his fingers through her hair and chuckled.

"Something like that," she replied, reaching for the key that was still in Nova's hand. "I'll meet the two of you inside."

As Nat let herself in the building, Nova looked up at him. "You lied to me. You said you had to work this weekend."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll never do it again." She was melting into his touch as he cleared his throat and added, "I know you're still going on interviews and trying to decide on a job, but I took next week off just in case I could persuade you to come back to San Diego for a bit."

She smiled. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Bob shrugged. "I just really think we should go on those three dates before I ask you to be my girlfriend."

"Starlite. Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. Cliffs beach," she said softly.

"In that order," he confirmed. "But I'd be taking you home with me after each one."

"Then yes."

---------------------------

Happy Holidays! I'll be thinking about Bob and Nova through the New Year. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @ryebecca

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thechekhov · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! I'm a big fan of your work. I wanted to ask for advice / thoughts about an art problem I've been struggling with that you seem to have at least some sort of solution for?

So basically I'm an animator and digital artist (hobbyist), and I'm constantly coming up with new ideas for things to make. Only problem is that most of these ideas would take up to or longer than 2 months to make because, yknow, animation isn't quick, especially if you want to take your time to make it good. But with so many ideas that all take so long to complete, I often find myself tied and frozen as I can't decide what's most worthwhile to start first. I passionately want to complete all these projects, but my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control, and I've just been stuck for several months. You juggle a lot of projects- not all of them art, but it still seems applicable here. This is excluding other life responsibilities like work and stuff, I don't have problems with getting that stuff done. This is purely within my creative hobby.

If u can't say anything thats fine I'm just curious- You have a massive output with great quality. Thank you!

This is a very kind message, and one that humbles me a lot, because although I'd love to bestow upon you some sort of advice that might help, or give words of wisdom..............I feel like that would be fake of me because

I also suffer from this very same thing

That is to say, this part of your message:

my inspiration for each one waxes and wanes in a way I can't control

It rings true for me too! I think it might ring true for many others as well.

There are stories in my head all the time. There are stories, and concepts, and IDEAS and they are all so shiny and new in the beginning, and then they slowly peter out and, since I frequently don't have time to do anything about them, they fade into the background.

I have enough trouble with this in terms of COMICS (also a lengthy medium, though less so than animation, which, OOF, you have my condolences, you are stronger than I) that I have started to just come to terms with the fact that some things are not meant to be.

Which is, I think, one of the small bits of advice I can give.

1. Some things may just be ideas, and that's okay.

I think one of the best ways that I've learned to deal with Idea-Death is making it count towards something in the future. That is to say, using them as compost.

In order for this to work, you have to actively put your ideas into the compost pin instead of the trash. That means maybe investing in either a notebook, or a sketchbook, OR just a discord server for yourself where you organize ideas and dump them all into a channel to scroll back through later.

It may seem useless at first, but honestly, it can be satisfying to PUT them somewhere instead of letting them fade away.

Plus, you may one day scroll through them and rediscover an idea at just the right time. OR you may be inspired to take parts of an old idea and repurpose it for a new idea that you DO have motivation for.

However, there's also this part, right?

I've just been stuck for several months

I.......feel this. Sometimes I, too, feel stuck for several months. There are times when even if I WANT to work on something, I just don't have the time. It takes too long to finish!

.........which is why I recommend the following:

2. Don't finish. Just start.

Now, this is the toughie. I can't exactly say that it would work for everyone. But I have learned that I am WAY more likely to return to a project and work on it again sometime in the future if I actually DO something for it the first time I get inspired.

I have SO MANY things that I have not published in my folders. I have sketches of gifs that are 10 frames long. I have concept art sketches boldly labeled with project names that will likely never get off the ground. I have Googledoc files with summary and plot outlines for stories I'll probably never write. I have discord channels with random ass concepts and a few sketches for characters.

And what I have found is that if I just WORK on these ideas when I feel like it, they are more likely to survive, even if they don't thrive right away.

I'm also a huge proponent of Procrastination Rotation.

That is to say, I have so many projects I COULD be working on, that if I ever feel frustrated or stuck on one thing, I just shift myself slightly to the left and do another thing instead. I almost never force myself to work through a block (save for a few money-motivated deadlines) just to complete a thing.

Stuck on a comic? I'll go write a few lines of fic. Unsatisfied with where the fic is going?

I'll go sketch out an illustration. Incapable of finishing an illustration?

I'll go google some references for another comic project and slap them all into an image file for later, so that I have SOMETHING in place for when I want to do studies.

And so on and so forth.

I have comic ideas, and comic sketches, and 30+ pages of original comics sketched. I don't know if they'll make it. It would take a lot of work.

But it also takes very little work - just a few extra pages sketched while I'm bored for an hour. Or a bit of lineart while I listen to a podcast. Or just a doodle somewhere which I snap a pic of and add to my discord channel for that project.

Will it work for everyone? Probably not. But I think that our creative culture is sometimes too attached to a linear production style. The truth is that art, or illustrations, or animation, or comics - none of it has to be on an assembly line. It can be tinkered with and put aside. And then, maybe, picked apart for scraps.........or maybe made into something new!

I don't know if that helps you at all, but I hope it at least helps someone.

And good luck with your animating!

#chekhov answers

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

All the milestones (Lando Norris)

Fraser came earthside earlier than you expected

Note: english is not my first language. Believe it or not, I'm also a preemie (genetically and health wise, I am a catch, I know). Jokes aside as this is a serious topic, I was born at thirty three weeks because of some complications and it all turned out well, but I am aware of what it entailed from people telling me and it isn't something I've seen around here! Knowing that the diversity I write brings comfort to read and to ask this warms my heart up so much 🫶 I'm also basing this off of my mum's experience!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions c-section and themes related to hospital stays and procedures, prematurity, pre-eclampsia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm really sorry I can't go with you, darling", Lando apoligised as he set the plate with lunch in front of you, "it's okay, it's just an ultrasound", you responded, "we're just going to check if everything is alright with you, right, little one?", you tapped your babybump softly. At thirty weeks pregnant, you were starting to feel the tiredness and aches like you had felt in your previous pregnancy, only now you had a toddler to look after as well, so you had been taking it easy. Fortunately, you were able to juggle work and family life in a way that allowed you to make the minimum compromise to both spheres of your life.

"Drink your water, baby", Lando reminded you, tapping the jug, "I'm going to pick up my dad from the airport and then we'll both get Tilly. Are you feeling like going out for dinner or should I get take out and we eat here?", he questioned, taking a bite of his food.

"I'd prefer to stay in", you stated, "are you feeling like anything special?", he asked back.

"Right now I can't think of anything", you offered, not really looking forward to eating the delicious food in front of you if you were really being honest. Still, you manage to eat the most of it.

"Have a good meeting, Lan, I love you", you said as you put your coat on, grabbing your bag with all your documents.

"Be safe, okay, baby?", he checked, kissing the top of your head and then kissing your baby bump, "and you too, buddy, keep yourself and mummy safe and sound, don't give her too much trouble", he said, helping you out of the door before you went on your separate ways, "I love you, gorgeous mummy!", he winked before he got inside his car.

Once you arrived at the hospital and checked yourself in, your midwife Amelia greeted you in the examination room, "how have you been feeling, Y/N?", she asked as she slipped the bad on your arm to get your blood pressure numbers, sending the urine sample to the lab.

"I've been feeling a little tired, especially compared to last time, which I can only put down to having Tilly, and she's a very calm child", you giggled, remaining quiet as the machine got your numbers.

"These look quite high, did you run up here?", she asked, "no, I got here earlier than I expected actually, I've been sitting on the waiting room for a bit", you scrunched your face.

"We'll just wait for your results and then we'll see if it's something we have to wordy about", she tranquilized, "let's see you baby boy, shall we?", she smiled as you lifted your shirt, letting her apply the cream and move the wand around.

"There's your son, Y/N", she smiled, "He's a bit quiet, but the heartbeat sounds good", she smiled, taking a few more pictures so you could bring them home for Lando and Matilda to see.

A knock on the door alerted you both as Amelia was taking your measurements, "I have the results for Y/N Y/L/N-Norris", your OB checked, seeing you in the room, "Hi, Y/N, I thought I'd only see you later", she said as she walked in. She pulled on a stool and sat on it, "your results are indicating that you might be in pre-eclampsia", she said as she showed the tablet's screen to Amelia, her stern expression confirming your suspicions on how serious the situation was, "your body is having trouble keeping up with everything, hence your high blood pressure and your urine results suggest your kidneys are working overtime as well", Dr. Martin said as you straightened up, hands coming to wrap around your baby bump protectively, "your baby is fine, so that's not a big worry, but we do think it would be best if we delivered him tonight", she advised.

"But he's too small", you argued.

"You're at thirty weeks, which isn't ideal, but the survival rate is very very high for babies born at this time, and we also have a team that is specialised in preemie care, so he will be in the best hands", she comforted, "we need to give you corticosteroids to make sure the baby's lungs are ready for when he comes earthside, we'll get you admitted and monitor you and the baby to make sure he's not struggling either. In a few days, depending on how this goes, we'll do a c-section. I know it's not ideal, but this is the best way to make sure you and baby boy stay safe".

Sighing, you nodded, "okay, whatever is best for both of us", you asserted, "I just need to call Lando - my father in-law is coming to stay for a bit and they're getting Matilda from school", you thought out loud.

"Absolutely, dear, everything is going to be just fine", Amelia conforted while Dr. Martin set you up to go to a room.

Lando helped Matilda up to her car seat, strapping her in as she spoke to his father, "and did you have a good day, princess?", Adam asked, "yes, we coloured lots and we saw a couple of butterflies when we were having our snack!", she smiled as Lando drove home.

The car system alerted them of a call from you, "hey, beautiful, I'm in the car with my father and Tilly - say hi to mummy, babygirl!", he encouraged, "Hi, mummy!", she cheered, "Hey Y/N", Adam greeted too.

"Hey, guys! Lando, can you give the phone to your dad, please?", you asked, "sure, love", he said as he disconnected the phone from the car, nodding his father to take the phone in the console.

"Hey, Y/N, is everything alright?", Adam asked over the phone, "Hey, Adam, I hope you travelled well! I'm not sure if Lando told you, but I had an appointment today, and it turns out I have to be admitted", you began, "I don't want to worry him, much less when he's driving, so as soon as you get home, can you tell him to call me back again, please? Baby Fraser might join us sooner than we expected", you mumbled, nerves obvious in your voice as Adam stayed with a neutral face.

"Absolutely, Y/N, I'll let him know", he said before hanging up.

"What was it? Is everything alright?", Lando asked, knowing there would be a reason as to why you didn't want to have everyone listening to the conversation.

Checking the rearview mirror to see Matilda playing with one of her books, Adam clarified Lando, "she is going to stay at the hospital for a little longer than she expected for some check ups, she didn't want Matilda to hear about it", he said. It wasn't too much of a lie, and he certainly didn't want to scare anyone and since Lando would be calling you anyway, it could wait for a bit, "she asked you to call her when you got home. Don't worry, I'll keep Matilda entertained", he smiled.

Once they arrived, Adam left his things in the guest bedroom and met Matilda in the kuchen, "grandpa will make you some snacks. What do you want, darling?", he asked as he urged Lando to go and make a call to you.

"Hi, baby", Lando said as you picked up, "dad said you wanted me to call you, is everything alright?", he asked as he stepped inside the bedroom, hanging his coat in the closet.

"Hi, my love", you sighed and sending Lando into alert, "when they did my check up, Amelia took my blood pressure and it was really high, and my urine sample didn't look great either. It turns out I'm in pre-eclampsia and they want to keep me for observation, and it's likely Fraser will join us in the next few days", you added, "I need you here -, and things for me", you let out.

"Are you okay? I'll start packing right away", he said as he put his phone on speaker, looking for pyjamas and toiletries.

"My blood pressure is high - so far there's no distress for the baby, and they want to keep him in for as long as they can", you explained, "I, I am fine staying here on my own, that's okay, but I really need you here for a bit", you asked, "of course, my love. I'm going to pack these up quick and I'll be there. I love you", he said before you said it back, putting his phone in his pocket and zipping the bag.

"Daddy, where are you going?", Matilda asked as she saw the bag, "princess, mummy is going to stay in the hospital for a bit so the doctors can make sure her and baby are okay, and daddy is going to take a few things for her", he announced, crouching down so he was at her level.

"Is mummy sick?", she pouted, "she's a little tired, so they're going to make sure she rests up as much as she can", he slipped out, "I'm going to be there for a little bit to giver her her pyjamas so she's comfy, and then I'll be right back, okay? Can you stay here with grandpa?", he asked.

"Okay, daddy", she said before walking away, "but wait!", she called from the hall.

"I'll get dinner started and tuck her in if it gets too late - she didn't want me to tell you until you were home", he apoligised, "I know, I know, thanks for being here, it was bloody good timing", Lando mused.

Matilda came back with one of her stuffed toys, a McLaren bear she loved, "this is for mummy, so she doesn't sleep alone", she smiled sweetly. Maybe her innocence was positive because it meant she was dealing with the situation quite well.

"I'll give it to mummy, baby girl, I bet she'll love it", he smiled, kissing her cheek and leaving to the garage so he could drive to the hospital.

When he arrived, Amelia walked up with him as she told you all there was to know, knocking on your room door before they stepped inside.

"Darling", he said, setting the bag down and sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your forehead protectively, "how are you?", he asked.

"Fine, although I don't think it has really sunk in", you mumbled, playing with his fingers, "how is Tilly?", you wondered.

"She gave you Mr. Brown", he said as he fished out the bear from the bag, "she said she wanted you to have it so you wouldn't be alone in here", he smiled.

After spending as much time as he could with you, he bid you goodbye and went home, finding his father washing up the dishes as Matilda got her pyjamas on for the night, "I have a tupperware for you in the fridge if you want something to eat".

"Thanks, I've got it from here though - c'mon, little miss, we're going to sleep!", Lando hoisted her up, holding her on his hip as they walked upstairs to the bedroom, "can I sleep in your bed, daddy?", Matilda spoke in a small voice, "I don't want you to be alone either", she admitted.

Smiling at her sweetness, he nodded, "of course you can, love. Mummy sent her goodnight wishes for you, and maybe we can visit her tomorrow, how does that sound?", he smiled, "yes, please, daddy!".

"I made these for you, mummy, so your room is nice and colourful!", Matilda smiled as Lando let you in for a cuddle, your little girl getting help from her grandfather at ripping the tape so she could display her drawings she brought you almost daily, only missing days where Landk hadn't been able to bring her to the hospital because of their schedules.

"That's beautiful, darling, thank you so much", you gushed before turning to Lando, "has she cried again?", you whispered. You had been in the hospital for five days now, and two nights ago Matilda started with what was a tantrum at first and then evolved to crying about the fact that you weren't home. Lando was able to talk it out with her, welcoming her and allowing her to talk about how she was feeling and how it was beyond the fact that her tights were itching her.

"No, yesterday she told me she couldn't wait for you to come home, and that you were taking longer than she liked", he snickered, "always little miss rushing when it comes to you", he kissed the side of your head. Even though she was a daddy's girl through and through, she never made you feel left out.

"Y/N", Dr. Martin called after she stepped inside the room, "Oh, Matilda, you're so grown up already! Time flies by", she said as she waved at your little girl while Adam pulled her to sit on his lap, whispering "That's mummy's doctor, she is going to check up on her so you have to keep quiet, okay?" into her ear.

"I was checking your results, and I think between tonight and tomorrow, we might have to deliver your baby boy", she stated, everyone in the room straightening up as Matilda tried to read the adults' faces.

"His lungs look really good in the ultrasound we did this morning - as you know those were our biggest concerns, so we'll come up to monitor you, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before excusing herself.

"Well, I think it's best if we get going, then", Adam said as he got up, coming up to kiss the top of your head and squeeze your hand in his.

"Mummy, I know you're going to do very well", she said, earning small giggles around the room, "when can I come and meet the baby?", she stepped up to give you a kiss.

"We will have to see how it all goes, princess, but when you can, you'll be the first to come, okay?", you smiled, brushing the curls out of her eyes and kissing her head.

"I'll drop these guys home, get the baby bag and then I'll be back", Lando said, kissing your lips and your baby bump, "you stay in there for just a little longer, okay buddy?".

By the time Lando got back to the hospital, you had already been given a few medications to prep you for the c-section, "Kelly and Max advised that I shopped for some smaller clothes, so I have those in there", he tapped the baby bag, "and how are you feeling?", he cupped your cheek.

"My blood pressure is really high, so they're thinking about putting me under, like, full body anesthesia", you bit your lip. Getting surgery was already a big thing, but being completely under was another.

"Oh, okay", Lando gulped, "they won't let me be in there then", he realised, "that's not how we wanted this to happen, but it's going to be okay, gorgeous. You're the strongest woman I know, you're going to be just fine", he smiled, "and our baby boy will come out screaming and he will be the strongest little one ever", he said, trying to convince you and himself of his words. He was scared too, but it wouldn't do you both any good to dwell on it too much.

Knocking on the door, one of the lovely interns and Amelia came to get you, "are we all ready? I'm afraid you already know this, Lando, but you won't, be able to be with us in the OR", she apoligised, "I'll wait right here, if that's okay", your husband suggested, kissing you one last time before they wheeled you off, "I love you, Y/N", he muttered against your lips.

While he waited, he looked at the drawings in the room with precise attention, finding one where Matilda drew the four of you, her brother in your arms and Lando holding her hand, names scribbled under each person in Adam's writing.

Less than an hour later, Amelia stepped into the room, Lando getting up from his spot on the chair immediately, "everything went well, they were weaning Y/N off of the anesthesia, she's going to the PACU until she wakes up and then back here", she smiled, "your little boy is in the neonatal unit, do you want to come and meet him?", she asked, Lando letting out a sigh of relief at her words, "I'll let you know when Y/N comes back to the room", she ensured, having been in the job long enough to know the dilemma of wanting to be in two places at the same time.

"Yes, let's go", he said as he straightened up his sweater, "can I hug you?", he allowed himself to feel emotional, Amelia's open arms offering him a little comfort, "they're both alright, Lando, you have such a beautiful family", she cooed.

Walking with him to the neonatal care unit, she helped him into one of the gowns as they greeted the other parents inside along with all of the staff, "this is your little boy", she said, offering him a sanitizer for his hands, "he can't eat on his own just yet, so that single tube on his nose is feeding him, the other one is giving him oxygen, and those stickers are to make sure his heart is doing okay - little milestones and little victories", she explained as Lando took him in.

Surely, he was much smaller than Matilda, but he could already spot some similarities, "Can I touch him?", he asked, weary of disturbing the perfectly architected environment inside the incubator, "yes, of course! Just be mindful of the wires and tubes", she encouraged, opening the little doors so Lando could touch your son.

"Hey, buddy", he spoke as he touched his tiny fingers, "you're already such a fighter, breathing so well without ventilation", he cooed. He looked up all the complications and when he didn't see a mechanical ventilator, he couldn't help but feel proud of the baby, "he is, we did all the tests and for now supplemental oxygen seems to be enough", Dr. Martin said softly, not wanting to spook them as she showed up, "everything went well with Y/N, she should make a full recovery once it heals", she rubbed his back.

"Thank you", he said, keeping the tears at bay as he looked back at Fraser, "you're so tiny they had to roll up your diaper, hm little love?", he spoke, "there are so many people who love you and they have so much of it to give you".

A little while later, Amelia told him they were taking you up to your room, so Lando said goodbye to Fraser, "I'm going to see mummy, Fraser, and I'm going to tell her how much of a higher you are, I love you", he cooed one last time, rubbing his arm before taking his hands away, closing the little doors and folding the gown for later.

Walking into the corridor to your room, Lando could spot you in the other end, smiling as you spotted him too, "nearly beat you in this race", you smiled at him as he gestured for them to wheel you into the room, "everything went as expected, Dr. Martin will be up shortly to speak to you two", one of the interns said.

"How are you feeling, gorgeous?", he said, brushing your hair away from your eyes and behind your ears, "I'm fine, the meds are helping with the pain, I'm sure", you giggled, "they gave me a good dose".

"That's nice, at least", he said, "I've texted everyone to let them know you were okay and everything went well", he added.

"Have you seen him yet?", you asked, "yes, I have", Lando beamed, "He's very tiny and he looks a little bit like Tilly already. And he's such a fighter, too! He only had those little pin-like tubes to help him breathe, they didn't need any incisions or anything. I would've taken a picture but I couldn't take my hands away from him", he admitted.

"Hopefully soon I can see him", you gulped, knowing it would off the books for a bit since you had abdominal surgery.

"All in due course, baby. I'm so happy you're both fine", he kissed your forehead.

"I just want to hold my baby!", you hiccuped, wiping the tears falling on your cheeks while Amelia conforted you, "just one more day, Y/N, maybe two at maximum to make sure you're healing well, too", she smiled apologetically.

A knock on the door alerted you as Lando and Matilda walked inside, making you wipe your cheeks quickly, "mummy!", she cheered softly, approaching you and climbing on the bed softly since she knew you were healing, "have you been crying, mummy?", she said, hugging your arm and resting her head there.

"Mummy is upset because I can't go and see Fraser today", you explained as Lando kissed the top of your head.

Amelia excused herself as you caught up with everything back home, "grandpa asked me to give you kisses", Matilda recalled as she kissed your cheeks, "his plane has landed alresdy", Lando added, "That's nice of him, thank you darling".

"We can go and meet Fraser, Tilly", Lando said as the window they allowed visitors in was coming to the half-time mark, "I'm going to give him loads of kisses from you mummy, don't worry about it!", your daughter said sweetly as she climbed off the bed, "I'm going to try and FaceTime, okay?", Lando confirmed, handing you your phone before they left for the neonatal unit.

"Matilda, darling, you have to put this on, okay?", one of the nurses gave her a mask, "she's in nursery and she might have caught some bug that isn't showing symptoms yet and it could be harmful for the babies", he checked with Lando as your husband nodded.

"It's like a costume, Tilly!", Lando tried to make it fun for her, adjusting the gown and then the mask around her face, "you can't go around touching things, okay princess?", he stated as she nodded, ready to meet her little brother.

Lando got himself gowned and led them to Fraser's incubator, "that is Fraser, baby", he cooed, typing on his phone inside the clear bag and FaceTiming you like he promised so you too could see the moment they met for the first time.

"He's so tiny", she gasped, standing on the stepping stool so she could see him properly, "I can't kiss him, can I?", she asked and Lando shook his head, watching you smile on the screen, "I'm going to blow him the kisses I have from mummy then", she said, her hand making the movements from her covered mouth to her brother, "I love you, Fraser, and mummy loves you too, she can't be getting because her tummy still hurts a little", she told him.

"This just makes you want to have another right away, doesn't it?", Lando croaked out as he wiped a tear from his eye, your wide eyes looking at him, "not anywhere in the near future - my body knows that much!", you giggled at the soft sight, "but it is incredibly cute, yes", you smiled as tears fell on your cheeks too.

"Look, mummy! He moved his hand, he's saying hello to you", Matilda smiled, "He's saying he wants to see you, too!".

You were finally able to stand up and sit in a wheelchair, so your other goal for the day was going to see your son.

Amelia was the first to say she would take you, helping you sit and getting you there, "That's your little boy right there", she pointed as you were filled with giddiness and excitement.

Wheeling you to face plastic bassinet, your hand went straight inside, "he doesn't need oxygen anymore?", you asked his doctor, noticing the single tube you recognised as a feeding tube, "no, not anymore", he said, "we ran some tests this morning and he's doing just fine on his own, strong set of lungs he has! He woke two of the other babies up yesterday", he smiled.

Chuckling, you touched his arm softly, his hands opening and closing, "do you want to hold him?", he asked, catching you by surprise. Until now, no one ever held him as to make sure the treatments being done were working as best as they could.

"Can I?", you asked, eyes hopeful, "me and the rest of the team think he's finally strong enough to move out of here actually", he added, "not enough to go home just yet, but he can be in your room. This way you can have him close to you and of anything happens or you need help, the staff in your floor know what to do. He just needs to be able to feed without a pump, so either breastfeeding or bottle feeding", he stated.

"Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting this, I was so happy that I got to see him", you teared up, bringing your arms to position so the doctor could place your baby in your arms, mindful of the feeding tube that was still in him, "hey, my love", you cooed, touching his cheeks, "I'm your mummy. I know you were rushed out of my tummy, and it was scary for both of us, but it's looking up now", you cried, Amelia wiping your cheeks as she smiled too.

"Do you mind if we take his tube out now? Might be a little better for this little guy to be in his mummy's chest", the doctor suggested, getting the supplies he needed and setting them in the tray.

"It's okay, little guy", he said as he pulled it out, baby Fraser crying at the discomfort you could only imagine as you rubbed his back, "it's okay, my love, mummy's here to make it better", you shushed him, kissing his head multiple times.

"There, all done!", the doctor said, "if you want, you can feed him here or in your room, where you feel best", he wondered, "could we go to the room, please? I have my supplies there, too", you asked.

You had been pumping milk out since it came in, and you were finally able to feed him straight from your nipple, "okay, little one, you can't get lazy on us now that mummy has you in her room", Amelia encouraged, tapping his cheek slightly as he began suckling on your nipple, "there we go!", she cheered, "I told you it would get better, didn't I?", she winked at you.

When Lando and Matilda came for their daily visit, they didn't expect to see you walking around the room, your back facing the door, "you're up, mummy, that's good!", your daughter said as you turned around, showing her brother on your chest, "oh", she gasped.

"He passed all his tests, and he's getting chubby too", you cooed, squishing his thigh softly as Lando took the sight in, Matilda holding onto you as you patted her head and held your son. Your family was complete.

"That's daddy, Fraser", you cooed, pointing at Lando as your baby boy looked around to the two new people in the room.

"Can I have a cuddle?", Lando whispered before you transferred Fraser to his arms, your little boy curling up against him just like he had been curled up to you.

"Does this mean you get to go home?", Matilda asked, hugging you properly as you sat down on the bed with her, "not for a few days still, they just need to make sure Fraser is alright", you informed, "then we can go home and the four of us are going to have loads of fun", you smiled.

"Tilly, can you help me here, please?", Lando called as her footsteps approached your bedroom, "can you get me that bedding from the drawer, please?", Lando asked as he held the mattres up, not wanting to miss the exact placement of the sheet, "thank you, baby, you're such a clever girl", he complimented, folding the corner in and letting the mattress fall back into place.

"When mummy comes home tonight, is Fraser coming with her?", she wondered, touching the next to me bassinet you kept in your room for the baby to sleep in the first few months, "yes, he is, he's finally good and big enough to come home, no more hospital visits", Lando sighed. The last couple of weeks were hard. Juggling things on his own made him even more appreciative of you and the efforts you made to make sure everything was smoothly running in the house, as well of your friends and family who suported your family in every way they could.

"That's going to be nice, the hospital smells funny", she scrunched up her nose, "and it's going to be like before but with baby Fraser?", she wondered.

"At first mummy will need our help in many things - she still has some recovery to do, but then it will be back to normal, yes", Lando offered, "and we'll have Fraser to go with us in our adventures".

"I can't wait to show him my soft blankets and my toys", she beamed, helping Lando with the bed and then getting ready to pick you up from the hospital.

"Thank you again for all of your work and dedication, we truly can't say it enough for all you've done for our family", Lando said to the team as they discharged you from the hospital, waving at Fraser in his carrier as he looked around.

By the time the four of you were back home, you ate dinner on the sofa, Matilda cuddled up to your side while Fraser slept in your chest, Lando holding the four of you in his embrace as much a she could, "we're finally all together", you smiled, "the Norris family is all together in one place we it should be", he said, kissing your lips softly, hand coming to rest on top of yours in Fraser's back as Matilda smiled up at you, "this is the best day ever", she murmured.

Post partum blurb

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #dad!lando x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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lilyinavalley · 16 days ago

Text

𝕷𝖊𝖋𝖙 𝕭𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 - 𝕿𝖆𝖎𝖌𝖆 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖒𝖎🐯

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔱

Do you want to know what happened with Taiga in the cut scenes of episode 16? Then Check it out...

Taiga Hoshibami x reader Ao3 Ao3 versione italiana Warning! Mildly suggestive Contents! flirting, drinking, smoking, kissing, rough kissing, gentle kissing, dancing, making out [Masterlist]

Taiga: “So why don’t you just stay here, kitty-cat?”

“Stay here?”

Taiga: “Time moves faster in here, doesn’t it? How long do you have left before you kick the bucket?”

“A little over three months…”

Taiga: “Then it’s thirty months if you spend them here. In the meantime, those henchmen outside can rack their brains trying to find a way to fix you. You just stay curled up in here and wait, kitty-cat. Smart idea, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s right to just sit around waiting without trying to find a solution myself.”

Taiga: “You really think you can do something? It won’t matter whether you’re there or not. Try as hard as you want, but what’s meant to be will be.”

He puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to whisper in my ear.

Taiga: “So? Don’t think about it. Just stay here with me.”

“Here with you…”

(If I stay here, I’ll have more time…)

(But… he’s right.)

“Would you really be okay with me staying here with you?”

He looks me in the eyes with an unreadable expression, holding my gaze for so long that time itself seems to slow down.

I try to meet his eyes, but the steam from the kitchen mixed with the smoke from the other patrons’ cigarettes starts to sting.

I blink to moisten my eyes, and by the time my vision clears, Taiga has already looked away. The answer to my question is, definitively, silence.

His lack of confirmation fills me with bitterness. After all, from his perspective, a life with me must seem terribly boring. Of course he wasn’t serious. Not to mention, I can’t live forever in this artificial city.

I reach for the tokkuri still full of sake that Taiga had ordered, but before I can even touch it, he beats me to it and starts pouring the drink into my cup, then into his.

We both raise our ceramic sakazuki and drink the sake in one gulp. The characteristic burn of the alcohol warms my throat and relaxes my nerves.

“You know, Taiga, we’ve known each other for a while now, and I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

This time, I pour the sake for both of us. Without waiting for a reply, I continue, gently swirling the liquid in my cup.

“You know something no one else does, right? And I’m not talking about secrets… but the future. You often act like you already know what’s going to happen, yet you don’t do anything to change the course of events. Instead, you go on acting carefree, like nothing you do matters, and the outcome will be the same no matter what.”

I sip the drink more slowly, glancing at him sideways. He keeps his eyes fixed on the cook juggling pans in the kitchen, his head lazily resting on the back of his hand.

(You really don’t like saying what’s on your mind, huh?)

I huff and, still waiting for any reaction from him, I down a few more cups of sake. When I feel the alcohol hitting a bit too hard, I set the cup down on the counter and nibble on some kataifi shrimp from one of the many dishes in front of us.

Taiga: “You’re right. I can predict the future.”

His sudden statement throws me off. I turn toward him, eyes wide.

He pulls a Chinese pipe from his jacket pocket, lights the tobacco with a match, and brings it to his lips. A puff of white smoke drifts out, reaching me too.

He lowers the slim gold-and-wood stem from his mouth and leans in dangerously close. The intense smell of burnt tobacco floods my nose.

Taiga: “Want proof?”

His gaze is too intense, his lips too close, my heart beating way too fast.

(I really shouldn’t have drunk so much…)

“Okay, show me.”

I look at him expectantly. He brings the golden tip of the pipe back to his lips, squints playfully, and smokes deliberately slowly.

Once the last wisp of smoke escapes between his sharp teeth, he places his free hand on my cheek, rubbing my cheekbone in gentle circles with his thumb.

Taiga: “Now I’m going to try to kiss you, and you’re going to slap me in disgust.”

His serious look vanishes as quickly as it came. He bursts into loud laughter, even doubling over with a hand on his stomach. The hand on my cheek slaps the counter repeatedly. I must look completely stunned — as do the other customers who’ve turned around at the commotion.

(Very funny, truly hilarious.)

He begins to calm down after a full minute. When he finally stops laughing, he throws his head back, catches his breath, and looks at me again with a mocking grin.

Taiga: “Ahhh, teasing you is way too much fun, ki—”

Before he can finish the sentence, I grab his shoulders and capture his lips with mine.

At first, Taiga freezes, but when I run the tip of my tongue along his lower lip, he responds with a breath-stealing hunger.

He sets the pipe down on the counter, grabs the back of my neck with one hand and wraps the other arm around my waist, pulling me toward him. I slide off the stool and in an instant, I’m pressed against his chest, positioned between his open legs.

He doesn’t give me a moment to breathe. He kisses me like he wants to devour me — merciless, overwhelming, almost intimidating.

When I feel I truly need air, I push him away firmly.

(I don’t want to die of asphyxiation ahead of schedule.)

Just before our lips part completely, he nibbles on my lower lip, teasing the sensitive skin with his sharp teeth—gently enough not to draw blood.

I open my eyes and find Taiga breathless, eyes shining. The Chinese lanterns above us cast a golden light across his sharp features, highlighting the faint blush creeping from beneath his eyes to the tips of his ears.

Taiga: “You surprised me, kitty-cat. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

(Neither did I… I definitely drank too much.)

But letting go isn’t so bad after all. Taiga’s right. In a few months, I might not even be alive anymore. What’s the point in holding back? Better to make bold choices than die full of regrets.

“I could still surprise you.”

The hand that had been resting at the back of my neck slides up, fingers threading through my hair. His black-polished nails tickle my scalp, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine, ending in a soft moan.

Then his hand pulls away and the strands fall softly over my shoulders. He continues playing with my hair, running it through his fingers.

The laughter from the men playing Mahjong, the clinking of silverware, and the murmur of other diners create a carefree, lively atmosphere I haven’t experienced in a long time.

Taiga turns toward the others with a slight smile.

Taiga: “See? It’s not so bad here, after all.”

He picks up the pipe he’d left on the table and brings it back to his lips.

Temptation wraps around me like ivy—climbing my limbs, curling in my hair. Once it takes root, it’s hard to pull out. It suffocates you until you vanish from the world’s sight.

(No… I can’t stay here.)

“They say some things are beautiful because they don’t last. I think that no matter how fascinating Shi San Long is, even you would get bored eventually. Besides, if you stay here, who’ll run Sinostra’s casino?”

I say with extreme irony.

Taiga: “Ahhh, you’re right. Who’ll spend all of Lulù’s money in gambling?”

We both burst into a liberating laugh.

Taiga pulls me close again, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Still smiling, he rubs his nose against mine and whispers:

Taiga: “Kitty-cat, come with me. Let’s have some fun before we leave this place.”

(As if he hasn’t been doing his own thing since we got to this city…)

When we step out of the restaurant, it’s already late at night. The narrow alleys of this district are bathed in the neon lights of various shops.

This hour belongs to the youth, who hang out for a good time. The streets are full of laughing groups, couples holding hands and hurrying—likely on their way home.

Taiga keeps me close with an arm around my waist. Together we weave through the twisted alleys of Shi San Long, trying not to bump into people.

(Mostly to spare the poor souls from Taiga.)

The evening breeze tousles our hair. Taiga’s long ponytail, which magically appeared with his clothes when we crossed the door, sways gently with the wind.

Without thinking, I reach out and grab the ponytail, letting it slide across my palm.

Taiga: “Do you like me with long hair? If you say yes, I might consider growing it out when we get back.”

He pulls me even closer, pressing my abdomen to his side.

Not intimidated, I take the initiative too, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Didn’t you want to have fun? Come with me.”

I grab his hand and pull him into a place that looks like a nightclub. We descend a dark staircase; with every step, the muffled music grows louder.

At the bottom, I open a heavy black door and we’re greeted by a room packed with people swaying to the beat — hot bodies intertwined under strobe lights.

Without hesitation, I pay for two entries and rush with Taiga into the center of the dance floor.

We’re so tightly packed that we barely have space to move. I start swaying to the pounding rhythm while he stands still, his face masked in flickering darkness.

I turn my back to him, grab his arms, and wrap them around me. With my hands over his, I start guiding him with my body.

Finally, he begins to move too, sliding his hands along my hips, up and down my curves. I let my head fall back onto his firm chest.

Our heated gazes meet, and I turn back toward him.

I cup his face, rest my forehead against his, and we keep dancing like that—noses brushing, his hands exploring my shoulders, then down, tracing my waistline with his thumbs, lower, and lower… stopping on my rear.

I close my eyes and give in to the moment. I focus on the music rattling my eardrums, his body pressed against mine, and his scorching breath brushing my lips.

When I open my eyes again, a new song is playing—more upbeat this time. The crowd moves more frenetically, and we nearly get separated.

We get swept up in the energy, and Taiga grabs my hand, raises it, and spins me. Then he pulls me close to his chest, leaning in toward my ear.

Taiga: “Having fun, kitty-cat?”

He shouts to rise above the deafening music.

“Yes.”

I dance until I’m exhausted, until every joint aches, until my skin is soaked with sweat and my hair sticks to my forehead.

Drained, I collapse into Taiga’s arms—he hasn’t left me for a second.

“Let’s get some air.”

Without another word, we head for the exit.

Compared to when we arrived, the street is much emptier now—it must be really late.

I lean against a wall and let myself slide down to the ground.

“Ahh, I’m so exhausted. Can we go back to the inn?”

Taiga remains standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

Taiga: “I want to go somewhere first.”

“Alright, but wait a sec—”

Without giving me a moment to rest, he lifts me up, tosses me into the air, and catches me in his arms, one supporting my back and the other under my knees.

“Again?! Taiga, you have to stop throwing me into the air!”

He answers with a satisfied laugh and then jumps onto a trash bin.

“Where are we going?!”

I scream in fear, but I’m completely ignored, as instead of answering, Taiga is too busy doing parkour over pipes, balconies, and air conditioner vents, apparently trying to climb to the top of a building.

(Ahh, I give up.)

I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes, hiding my head on his shoulder, trying not to think about the reckless leaps he’s making dozens of meters above the ground.

Taiga: “Don’t be scared, open your eyes, kitty.”

He says this once we’ve come to a complete stop, still holding me in his arms.

I open my eyes hesitantly and loose the tight grip I had on him, almost choking him.

The view takes my breath away—we’re on the tallest building in Shi San Long. The city stretches out for miles below us like a spiderweb. You can clearly distinguish the dimly lit residential areas and the nightlife districts, glowing like tiny worlds of light in a universe that is still asleep.

“It’s beautiful.”

Taiga lets me go, and I walk toward the edge of the rooftop. The air is much crisper up here—a cold shiver runs up my spine and spreads to my arms, which I quickly cross over my chest to try and gather a bit of warmth.

Taiga: “Doesn’t seeing everything from up here make you feel invincible?”

He doesn’t offer me his jacket, but he does pull me into a hug from behind.

“So we came up here just to inflate your ego?”

A smile softens my expression, and another loud laugh makes his chest shake. I finally start to feel a little warmer.

I turn around and wrap my arms around Taiga.

“Thank you.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.

I kiss him lightly, trying to express all the gratitude I feel for these moments of peace he’s given me.

I kiss him passionately, so he can feel the fire that runs through my veins every time he touches me.

And then I kiss him tenderly, because I’m not ready yet to put a name to the feelings that tickle my heart every time we’re together.

When I pull away, I look into his eyes without saying a word.

A single tear falls down my cheek and disappears into the darkness of the night.

Dividers by: @dollywons and @strangergraphics-archive

The Room <-PREVIOUS NEXT-> The Walk

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #taiga hoshibami #taiga hoshibami x reader

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whimsyfinny · 10 months ago

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, violence, oral (male receiving)

Chapter Word Count: 5306

—-MDNI—-

A/N: kind of an odd chapter tbh, there was a few things that I wanted to write so it felt best to squeeze them all in together. I want to start getting into the romance side of things with Dean, so I guess that starts here. Also I’ve been away sick so I’ve added a bit of spiciness.

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 13

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 14

I grasped the hanger off the rail and slung the pair of flared jeans over my arm to join the other items I was purchasing. Dean had been kind enough to give me a hundred bucks in cash - God knows where from - to get myself whatever I needed whilst he and Sam sauntered off to the menswear stores. As I browsed, lifting a crocheted crop top up before scrunching my nose at the thought of how little it would cover, the bell to the store jingled as someone else walked in. I heard footsteps slowly pace down the short aisle I was in, and as I placed the top back on the rail, I almost jumped out of my skin as someone started talking.

“Oh hey, it's (Y/n) right? You're bunking with the Winchester boys?”

I snapped my head up at the female voice, not expecting anyone out here but Sam and Dean to know my name. My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, faint crows feet in the corners from years of joy and smiles. I recognised her; she was the short haired woman in the bunker kitchen the night we got back from the strip club.

“Uuhhhh ye- yes! You know Sam and Dean?” My expression was clearly confused as she grinned and held out her hand.

“The names Jody Mills. I've known the boys for a while now - through hunting. It's a pleasure to meet you at last - I've heard great things about you,” I juggled the clothing in my arms and grasped her outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. She seemed to grin at that.

“Oh, they talk about me? I had no idea,” I suddenly felt a little nervous, the knowledge that I've been the topic of conversations unbeknownst to myself made me sweat a little. Jody seemed to notice this.

“They've only had great things to say, so don't panic! Especially that boy Dean. Not sure how you've done it chick but you really got that wild card wrapped around your little finger,” she raised her eyebrows almost suggestively and I felt heat start to prickle my skin.

“Wh-what? No no no, he's not-” I watched as her head tilted in my direction, eyebrows still raised as a slight grin tugged on her lips. “Have I really?”

She hummed and nodded her head, starting to flick through the clothing rail that I'd been looking at before.

“I've known that boy a few years now, and I've never seen him run to anyone the way he ran to you that night you appeared in the kitchen, looking like a kicked kitten,” she smiled softly and squeezed my arm, “you're something special to him honey, so try not to break his heart.”

“Oh,” was all I managed to say, with what I can imagine was the dumbest look on my face as I felt myself getting redder by the second. A phone ringing suddenly pulled me from my dazed thoughts as Jody reached into her pocket and answered the call. She spoke in a sterner tone than what she'd used with me, and after a few words were exchanged she hung up and returned the device to her pocket.

“I've gotta get going, but I'll try and catch you all again later. I'm in the area for a bit so I'll try and pop by. It was lovely to meet you (Y/n),” she squeezed my arm one last time before turning to leave, the bell on the door signalling her departure. I stood for a moment, my mind spinning from what she'd said about Dean. There was absolutely no way that what she'd said was true. I mean, I beat the crap out of him when we first met, and we've bickered a lot. I guess we've not argued for a good few days. And we've had sex. Oh the sex. I bit my lip as thoughts of us tangled in his sheets came to mind. Not just thoughts, but memories. Like I said to him this morning, we're just fuck buddies. Right?

Leaving the store with two large paper bags in one hand and my phone in the other, I first dialled Sam to find out where he was down this stretch of high street. When it went to voicemail, I hung up and dialled Deans number instead. It rang and rang, and when I thought his was going to ring through as well, he finally answered.

“Hey sweetheart, what's up?”

“Hey, I'm finished getting what I need. Whereabouts are you?”

“Uhhh…” I heard him turn to the shop assistant and ask for the name of the store he was in before he relayed it to me.

“Cool, I'll be there in two minutes. See you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with a click I hung up and tucked my phone into my back pocket and walked no more than two hundred yards to get to where he was still trying on boots. As I gingerly walked in, well aware it was a men's store and I was currently the only woman in here, Deans head snapped to the door when the arrival bell jingled.

“Hey sweetheart, you're just in time! I have no idea what to get.”

I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the thought of the great Dean Winchester getting stumped by the more domesticated side of life.

“Well I'm here to help,” I placed my bags on the bench next to his discarded jacket. “What are the options?”

We must've spent half an hour going over the ones he'd shortlisted, then he chose an entirely different pair anyway, unrelated to the ones he'd picked out for himself.

Leaving the store and a quick phone call between the brothers, we all concluded that now was the best time to stop for lunch. Dean and I made a quick trip back to Baby to drop off our bags, with Dean opting to sport his brand new boots in favour of his old and decrepit ones. It was a short walk back to the high street now that we were bag free, and I could see Sam a mile off - his tall frame loitering outside the chosen diner, the occasional woman walking past throwing a few looks his way. He, of course, was oblivious to those looks, and when he spotted us as we neared he offered a wave. He sprouted a wide, friendly grin as we came to stand next to him.

“You guys get everything you need?”

“Yep! Took Cinderella a while to find the right boots but we got there in the end,” I flashed Dean a playful smirk as he tilted his head in slight annoyance at the nickname, which pulled a light hearted laugh from Sam.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I didn’t spend twenty bucks on a thrifted Carhartt hoodie.”

“Hey that is durable shit, it’s worth every penny.”

“You could've had one of mine, I don't wear hoodies much anymore.”

“I somehow feel like there'd be a catch with that.”

“Uuhh, I got my jacket, if anyone cares?” Sam decided to interject, and we both turned to look at him.

“Good for you Sammy.”

“Yeah, nice one Sam,” I looked around for a second, not seeing any bags, “where is it?”

He gave me a funny look.

“What?”

“Seriously?” He asked, looking between Dean and myself. I looked at the older Winchester and seemed to have the same questions I did.

“Guys, I’m wearing it. Did you seriously not notice?”

I bit my lip.

“It looks exactly the same,” Dean spoke my own thoughts out loud.

“Well I mean technically it is. But it's not all scuffed up. Look you can clearly tell it's new,” he gestured with his hands that were still in his pockets, flapping the jacket around like he was an elongated flying squirrel.

“Not really.”

“Nope,” Dean popped the ‘p’ before he walked past both of us, “come on guys I'm starving, can we just go in?”

A simple lunch in the diner turned into beers in the bar which somehow turned into karaoke followed by shots. The place was bustling - all tables and booths occupied and a permanent flow of people ordering drinks. Most of the guys were of similar tastes, donning boots and leather jackets whilst the few women that were there pranced around in short-shorts and low cut tops. I for one felt a little out of place. The three of us were lucky to snag a booth, albeit close to the small stage situated up front, and I’d tucked myself into the corner, cradling my rum and coke. Dean had left his jacket beside me whilst he’d ventured off to challenge a group of guys to a ‘friendly’ game of pool, his laugh occasionally flowing over the chatter and music towards where Sam and I were sitting.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realise they’re being conned?” I quizzed, taking a gulp from my glass and letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue before swallowing. Sam chuckled, taking a second before answering.

“Uhhh I don’t think these guys will find out until tomorrow morning.” We both laughed, knowing full well that Dean will spend all night gloating about how great he is, how we should bow in respect of the swindle master. I was lost in thought for a moment, wondering how much money he would actually walk away with when Sam’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“(Y/n), can I ask you something?”

I took another gulp of my drink, knowing full well what that puppy-dog look in Sam’s eyes meant, that furrow in his brow only accentuating it.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He took a breath.

“Are you ok? Like, really ok? Because if I’m honest, if I saw someone who I thought was dead - that I used to be in love with - stand before me after years of believing I’d never see them again; I don’t think I would be ok.”

I fiddled with the hem of Deans shirt sleeve for a second, my brain swarming with every thought I’ve been avoiding since the other night and keeping every little buzz under lock and key. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid to open Pandora’s box for the fear of ice cold confrontation. It wasn’t the wisest option, but putting the skeletons back in their closet and throwing out the key was what I genuinely thought was best. I let out an emotionally exhausted sigh before slumping back in my seat.

“I’m not ok. It still feels like some sort of fucked up fever dream, but… but thinking about it isn’t going to make me feel any better. Talking about someone who’s been dead to me for years isn’t going to take this messed up feeling away. In my mind, there’s nothing to get over where he’s concerned. Yeah, he was my teenage sweetheart, but I’m a grown woman now with a whole new brain and a whole new heart,” I could’ve kicked myself for letting my eyes flick over to Dean.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“If you’re sure, because you know I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I know, thanks Sam,” I gave him a soft smile, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Although, just one thing…”

“What’s that?” He sat up straighter.

“I don’t think it’s Daniel as a person that has me feeling like this - I grieved him and moved on from him years ago. I think… I think it’s the thought of that soul crushing sorrow coming back that scares me the most. The kind of sorrow that makes you forget what day it is; that stops you from eating and going outside and taking care of yourself. It makes you lose friends and interest in hobbies. It makes the whole world look grey and lifeless. You feel so unbearably numb that you aren’t even sure why you’re alive anymore. It makes you want to die.”

“(Y/n)…” Sam seemed at a loss for any other words as he held my hand softly across the table, running his thumb gently over my knuckles. I took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I felt like that when I lost Daniel, but when I lost Bobby, I… I…” I felt my voice crack slightly, “when I lost Bobby it was so much worse, I genuinely never thought I’d be normal ever again. Luckily for me, Charlie found me,” I grinned, remembering her determination to piece me back together. I looked up from where our hands joined, meeting Sam’s gaze.

“The only way I’d go through any of that again would be if I was to lose you guys. I know it’s not been long, but for once I’ve found something that makes me want to get out of bed in the mornings. That shit is hard to find.”

We both took a moment, feeling the weight of my words as we shared a gaze. I knew from the way his brows drew together and that far away look in his eyes that he felt everything I’d said. He’d experienced it first hand. And he knew that he didn’t have to say much, if anything, to convey that he understood. Slowly pulling my hand out from under his and placing my palm over his knuckles, I gave a gentle squeeze before standing, letting him go and grasping my glass. I threw the last mouthful back, the liquid vigorously fizzing down my throat before warming my chest. As I swallowed, I held my glass up and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Well shit, would you look at that - my glass is empty. Guess I’m heading to the bar. You need a top up?”

“Yeah, please. Remind me to get the next round,” he grinned as I slid out the booth and headed towards the bar. As I waded through the crowd I passed the pool table, glancing over at Dean who was deeply engrossed in taking a player's hard earned money out of his grasp. I watched the smug grin spread over his lips as he counted then pocketed the cash.

I looked up to see an opening at the bar so I squeezed in, perching myself on a stale beer-scented barstool whilst I waited for the barman to notice me. After a couple of minutes of being served he placed the drinks before me and I paid on one of Deans ‘special’ credit cards, scooping all three glasses into my grasp - with an insane amount of skill - and turned to leave. The moment my ass left the seat cushion however I found myself toe-to-toe with a very tall and very rugged stranger, the smell of cigarettes and old leather wafting around him.

“Not seen you around these parts before doll; I know I’d recognise such a pretty face,” he had a grim smirk on his face and his voice was like sandpaper - rough but certainly not sexy. I tried to take a step back but only ended up seated back on the barstool.

“Just passing through,” I did my best to flash a polite smile in the hopes he would sense I didn’t want to have this conversation. No such luck.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be in a place like this all alone. Things might…happen.”

A shudder ascended my spine into my neck and I tried my best to subtly shake it out before I gave into my more defensive side.

“Who the fuck do you think I am with this many drinks? They’re clearly not all mine… ergo, I have company.”

His gross grin widened, the subject of my statement clearly not settling correctly in the empty space between his ears.

“Getting feisty… I like it. Can’t get much better than a little thing with a mouth.”

I shuddered again.

“What part of ‘I have company’ do you not fucking understand? And even if I was alone, I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere with you.”

His grimy smirk faltered slightly, finally absorbing some of my words that seemed to be floating in the air around his thick skull.

“Aw don’t be like that.”

“Oh I’m gonna ‘be like that’ until you leave me the fuck alone.”

He took a lumbering step forwards, pushing me further onto the barstool.

“See now there’s a point when a mouth on a pretty thing becomes down right obnoxious, and you’re nearing that point sweetheart.”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me you dick,” I was mentally preparing to buy another round of drinks as the thought of throwing these three at this asshole was becoming sweeter by the second, and people were starting to watch on but there wasn’t a single white knight in sight.

“Well now you’ve just crossed that line,” the second I saw him start to raise his arms my instincts kicked in and I gave into my previous thought and doused him in liquor, the amber liquid running down his face and neck and soaking into his clothes. He looked down at himself in disbelief before lifting his head back up, this time baring his teeth and raising his hand as if to slap me. I reflexively raised my arms and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You stupid bitch.”

“If you touch a hair on her goddamn head ‘imma put you six feet under.”

My eyes shot open and I lowered my hands to see a seething Dean Winchester, a single strong hand wrapped around my harasser's wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The faintest smirk pulled at the corner of Deans mouth before disappearing as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but quiet rage burning across his features.

“I’m about to be your biggest fucking problem.”

Before the asshole could even react Deans hand went from twelve O’clock to six O’clock in half a second with a sickening snap, breaking the jerks elbow with deadly skill. Practised skill. Whilst my harasser cried out and cradled his limp arm, Dean let go of him before a few of the onlookers gave Dean a nod of approval before escorting the creep out. Once he knew he was out of the building, Dean turned to me, softly grasping my chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He tilted my face left and right, scrutinising over my unharmed skin. When he was sure that there wasn’t a scratch on me he let go, relief flooding his gaze as he sighed.

“Dean I’m fine, I promise,” I reached up, fingers hesitantly grazing his stubbled cheek before I thought better of it and dropped my hand to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I swear to God (Y/n), if he’d laid a finger on you he’d get a lot more than a busted elbow,” his hand came to rest on my bicep, his long fingers gently wrapping around my arm in subconscious comfort, almost pulling me towards him. My own hand seemed to slide down from his shoulder to rest softly on his chest, my fingertips feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath.

“I know,” I reassured, giving him a little smile to which he returned. I felt my soft smile turn mischievous as thoughts started conjuring in my mind.

“Come on, Sam is waiting for another drink, let's order and get back to the table.”

The bartender had seen Dean step in to help me, so luckily for us this round was on the house. As we slid into the booth opposite Sam I slid his drink over to him.

“What happened back there?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Just some asshole thinking I was gonna leave this place with him,” I sighed, sitting down, Dean taking his seat beside me. Sam's eyes flicked between the two of us.

“I'm sure I saw him leave with his arm all out of shape, was that-”

“Yeah well, shrimp-dick had it coming,” Dean was doing his best to act nonchalant, however the moment our eyes met over the top of our drinks we couldn't stop the giggles from tumbling out.

“Guys, Dean, you can't go around breaking elbows-”

“Relax Sammy. No one's gonna say anything, they all saw him acting like a creep. Just didn't have the balls to step in. Anyway,” a darker look clouded his eyes as his gaze bore into his younger brother, “he was harassing our girl, Sam. Ain't no way in Hell I was gonna let that slide.”

There was a moment of thick silence before Sam nodded, finally agreeing with Deans actions, knowing that if it had come down to it, he might've done the same. I raised my glass to my lips, taking a long sip before placing it back on the table, looking between the boys as they continued to have some sort of silent conversation that I wasn't a part of. The mischievous thoughts from earlier kept bubbling in my mind, and it didn't take any self-convincing for me to act on them. I shuffled slightly closer to Dean, not enough to draw attention to myself but enough to be in touching distance. I glanced up at him, making sure he was totally unaware and focused on his drink before I reached out slowly, letting my soft fingertips glide over the rough denim of his jeans. I glanced up at him when I heard him inhale his drink, spluttering slightly as I squeezed the inside of his thigh. I traced the length of his inseam, watching his grip on his glass tighten, the tanned skin over his knuckles paling.

“You ok there?” I asked, feigning concern with a quirk of a brow.

“Oh I'm just peachy sweetheart,” his voice came out low, lower than I think he was expecting it to as his eyes nervously darted to Sam who was too busy opening his laptop to notice. Dean leant back on the bench, the worn leather creaking under his weight. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, pausing for a moment before lifting his arm closest to me, as though inviting me to sit closer. Eager to oblige I scooted towards him, nibbling my bottom lip when I felt his large hand rest softly on my back, subconsciously pulling me in. I crossed one leg over the other, turning into him slightly, tilting my head to get a better look at his face.

“I think I left something in the car, would you mind coming with me whilst I grab it?”

He looked a little puzzled for a moment before shotting the last of his whiskey and nodding his head.

“Sure thing,” he turned to his brother, “hey Sammy, we’ll be back in a few.”

Sam grunted a reply, too lost in the article he was reading to pay much attention to us. Dean slid out of the booth and held his hand out to me, which I grasped. His long rough fingers enveloped my hand as he pulled me to my feet. Leaving his jacket behind, we left the bar and made our way to the impala.

The night air had turned chilly, biting at my flushed cheeks as we paced across the lot, taking all of about thirty seconds to reach the impala. Dean was a few steps ahead of me, having unlocked the rear passenger door by the time I'd arrived.

“There you are, grab what you ne- whoa!”

He was caught off guard when I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him down into the car, his broad form filling the space in the back with ease. I climbed in after him, closing the door and crawling along the back bench towards him. It took a moment, but Dean eventually caught on.

“Oh, I’m liking where this is going.”

I chewed at my bottom lip, watching him settle beneath me as he propped up slightly on his elbows, the fabric of his T-shirt stretching thin over his muscular chest.

“I wanted to thank you for being my hero. That’s the second time you’ve rescued me - I wanted to thank you properly. You know, to really show my appreciation.”

It was Deans turn to pull his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners of his plush lips turning up.

“You know, I’m starting to think you might be trouble,” his voice was getting lower with every word, each syllable rumbling in his chest and vibrating into my fingertips.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, feeling some truth to them as I scooted down the bench to sit between his legs before slipping into the large footwell. I patted the seat in front of me, and it didn’t even take a second for Dean to slide himself into it, sitting up straight. As I sat between his knees and looked up at him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight; the way the streetlights painted his face in warm amber, softening his battle-hardened features and reflecting in his eyes like dancing embers from a stoked fire. The shadows didn’t seem contradictory - the darkness we were sitting in was far from cold. Dean Winchester was not an artistic man by any means, but he himself was certainly a masterpiece.

I reached up and unbuckled his belt along with the button on his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down after and tugging the thick fabric along with his boxers off his hips; just enough to dip my hand in and pull out his cock, already hot and heavy in my palm. He made an almost strained noise on contact and my stomach fluttered at the thought of him being so sensitive. So sensitive at my mercy. I adjusted my grip on him before going up and down, once… twice… three times… over and over at a sinfully slow pace. His hands gripped his thighs like they had nowhere else to go, and when I looked up he was watching every move I was making with knotted brows and parted lips. His eyes only found mine when I straightened my back and leant forwards, gliding my tongue up the thick length of him but avoiding the tip. Mimicking my hand, I licked up and down again and again, ever so slowly gaining speed before I finally dragged my tongue over his tip and plunged his whole cock down my throat.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped out, his large palms flying to my hair - long fingers knotting with the soft strands. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to shove my head down as far as it would go, but his self restraint shone through. I started to move, slowly at first, head bobbing without missing a beat. The feeling of his cock pressing against the back of my throat over and over was fine at first, but the longer I sucked him off the urge to gag grew. The size of Deans cock was not something to be taken lightly, and after a couple of minutes the impending gag hit and I pulled him out of my mouth.

“Shit, (Y/n)… How are you so good at this?” He hissed out in a breath I’m sure he’d been holding since I'd started. I assumed the question was rhetorical as I gave him a few pumps, swallowing the excess spit and precum on my tongue before leaning back in. One by one I placed hot, wet kisses up his length, placing the final one on his tip before I pulled it back into my mouth. With the new found sensitivity of my gag reflex ever-present, I avoided taking him too far down my throat, this time using one hand to reach where my mouth couldn't at his base. Adding a little twist, I felt his grip tighten once again in my hair, his long fingers absently scooping loose strands away from my face. The combination of feeling him lose his mind beneath me and the tenderness of his touch sent a flutter to my heart which quickly travelled south at the sound of his euphoric groan, his head lolling back and eyes closing. As I pressed my tongue to the large vein scaling his length I could feel his rapid pulse, my own heart rate almost as fast as his. As I continued to bob my head, I could feel him gather all my hair in one hand, his other softy tracing down over my temple, my cheek and my lips before stopping at my chin, a single swipe from his thumb removing most if the spit and precum that was threatening to stream down my neck. I would consider my next move a grave mistake - looking up through my damp lashes to meet Deans white-hot gaze fixated and fascinated with every little motion I made. The blissed-out look in his eyes could have turned a weaker woman into a puddle right then and there, and I surprised myself with my own resilience. He continued to hold me with one hand in my hair and a soft grip on my chin, my own free hand moving to grip him near the inside of his thigh. Another soft moan slipped from his lips as I started to speed up, not caring for the ache in my jaw or mess he was now too preoccupied to swipe away. I was surprised when no words left Deans lips, his usual blasphemous language replaced with velvety moans of pleasure. I could tell he was nearing his peak when his cock twitched between my lips, again and again before before he finally groaned out a strained:

“Fuck, oh shit.”

His grip tightened, like he was trying to pull me off him, however when that telltale throb made his cock graze the back of my throat I removed my hand from his base and enveloped him in his entirety, a final, breathy gasp and groan tumbling from Deans lips before the sensation of warm, viscous liquid spilled across the back of my tongue. It took a moment for the ropes to stop coming, and when they did I pulled him from my mouth slowly, looking up at his breathless form. Not taking my eyes from his, I parted my lips slightly to show his cum, glazing my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing the thick liquid down. He let out another groan, his grip finally releasing my hair as he ran his hands over his face, taking a moment for his eyes to find mine again.

“Holy shit, sweetheart… I feel like I just died and went to heaven.”

I couldn't stop the stupid giggle spilling from my lips as I wiped the spit from my lips and chin with the bottom of Deans shirt that I was wearing.

“For a moment there I thought you had too.”

He grinned down at me, perhaps a little bashful as he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened his belt. As he finished up, a few moments of silence hung over us as I still remained nestled between his strong thighs. His eyes met mine and they seemed to hold a thousand words that he wanted to say, and when nothing came from his lips he simply held out his hand to pull me into his lap. Just as my fingers grazed his, however, there was a loud rap at the window which spooked both of us out of our skin.

“Motherfucker,” Dean muttered before rolling down the window, and a small wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over me when I heard Sam's disbelieving yet humoured voice coming from outside.

“Guys are you fucking serious?!”

——————————————————————

Next Chapter: Chapter 15

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@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

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faith-forgxtten-land · 1 year ago

Note

If I may oh-so-humbly request smth else:

Bayverse Leo x back scratches/shoulder rubs

How would Fearless react to a partner that is always ready and willing to help him release the tensions that leading his brothers and being a vigilante cause? Maybe his reaction to the first time his gf comes up behind him when he's sitting on the couch, frustrated at something and starts to knead the tightness from his shoulders?

Thanks again💙

Balm | Leonardo

i'm not kidding when i had a plan to write something along these lines yesterday morning and started writing ideas in my notes app... also, hello, leo's eyes in this gif????

okay this one kind of got away from me i won't lie. even i'm not sure how it ended up how it ended up. so, i'm adding in little headcanons at the start to make up for my detour because i did not expect to get angsty and introspective and barely include what you specifically asked for...

warnings: kind of longer than i thought, i fear it drags. angsty, sad leo, nothing really? fluffy ish too. bad writing that's not proofread. everyone is 18+!! bayverse

summary: leo is tense and brooding but your delicate touch and kind words are what he needs

word count: 1, 375 (incl. headcanons)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

he's not really expecting it at all

gets extra tense the first time and worries a little that his skin is too rough and his muscles are too hard for your human hands

meditation is the be-and-end-all of "relaxation" for him (and he has a tendency to see it as training and a way of pushing himself even if he enjoys it and it's good for him)

so having someone take care of him in such a tender way without any motivation beyond comfort kind of breaks his brain

his shoulders and neck are wrecked

your hands are so tiny on his body that means you have to massage a lot to reach every spot, right? right? he is obsessed now

feels a bit hesitant to ask for a while at first, but you spoil him and he's easy to read

becomes a ritual for the both of you after he's been out on patrol

but you like doing it any time for comfort and intimacy

it's become habit for you to massage or brush your fingers against his shoulders whenever you pass him by

definitely brings you closer together

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Leo couldn’t remember the last time he slept. His head was pounding, an unrelenting percussion beating across his temples, and he could feel a wave of nausea crashing against his chest, a tell-tale sign that he’d been pushing himself too far. It was a sign that he tended to ignore (foolishly so, a mini voice that sounded suspiciously like Splinter chided). His hands trembled imperceptibly, and he gripped his knees to avoid acknowledging it a little longer.

He must’ve been really out of it because he jumped when he felt a pair of warm hands settle upon his shoulders. A burning shame fanned smoke that clogged his throat, a humiliation stitched into his veins that your touch couldn’t cleanse. “Leo?”

He couldn’t reply, letting himself recline and press gently against your palms instead. “Leo,” you murmured again, and he glanced at you tiredly, normally bright blue eyes hollow with exhaustion. You looked pensive and worried, brows drawn and eyes soft, wearing an old shirt he never wore anyway, and he wanted nothing more than to sooth the anxious lines of your face with the fingers that still grasped his knees. A fresh wave of guilt clawed its way into his gut and nestled there. He was worrying you, he knew, and now you weren’t sleeping either. He had warned you before you’d gotten together of what things would be like. Maybe you didn’t believe him at the time, and he wondered if this was the moment you realised and walked out (or he drove you away).

You’d come into his life when things had been eerily calm, and he’d stupidly felt confident that he could juggle everything and still have you, still indulge in something he had refused to let himself consider a realistic possibility. He knew Raph longed for acceptance and comfort and love, and that, despite his insecurities and anger and hurt, he would never stop dreaming of it. Donnie would envisage it quietly, usually agreeing with Leo’s dismissal of acceptance but privately yearning for it more than he’d ever let his family know (but Leo knew). Mikey wanted it too and wasn’t shy about it; he was so happy and sociable and sunny that it made Leo nauseous to repeatedly shut down dreams of the life he deserved. The thing that made Leo truly sick, sick with the world and with himself, was that Mikey truly believed, even after all these years, that he’d succeed in attaining it.

Leo thought he’d succeeded, thought he’d managed to find the thing that tore his brothers up inside without even looking for it (and that only made him hate himself more, something he would never – could never – bring himself to admit to you). You had only been dating a month, but God, he thought he’d found everything he had always refused himself. Love and acceptance outside of his family weren’t things Leo allowed himself to consider before. As a teenager, he’d meditated over and over to clear those useless longings from his mind. Then you appeared in his life out of nowhere like an apparition, offering solace and tenderness, and he didn’t want to refuse himself those impossibilities anymore.

Perhaps he’d been too hasty, it wasn’t like him to throw caution to the wind, to dive in headfirst. He hadn’t considered the implications enough, had been foolish to think he could be a leader, a hero, a brother, and a lover to you, and now here he was trembling and feeling sorry for himself with your sad eyes watching him and cutting straight to his core.

“Mikey got hurt,” he rasped. He’d let Mikey get hurt, he added silently, and somehow you must’ve heard him.

“Mikey is fine, back in one piece thanks to you,” you shot him a half-smile that made his heart stutter even at a time like this. “He was practically bouncing off the walls when his stitches were finished.”

Leo didn’t reply.

You placed your hand against his cheek, and he clenched his jaw to stop himself nuzzling into its softness. “It’s not your fault.”

“They’re my responsibility and I failed them,” he said simply. They’re my brothers and I didn’t protect them. “Things are getting worse with the Foot Clan and I–” I don’t know what to do.

Your sad eyes were somehow even sadder, and it made his own sting. He blinked quickly. “You’re not infallible and invincible, Blue; your brothers know that, your father knows that. You do your best.” What happened when his best wasn’t good enough? You clasped his jaw tighter, somehow reading his mind again. “You’re more than good enough, you can’t control everything, and you can’t keep carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

The terrapin let you remove his gear, the heavy straps that had been digging into the hardened skin of his shoulders. You pressed soft kisses into the scales, and he closed his eyes at the reverence in your delicate touches as your nails trailed along his shell. “Everything will be okay,” you whispered, the heat of your breath soothing his still-trembling hands and warming his soul. “Your brothers are safe,” another kiss as gentle as moonlight, “I’m safe,” one more to the junction between his shoulder and neck that made his eyelids flutter, “and you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

Leo hated the shakiness of his breathing, torn between the urge to tense further and wanting to melt into your touch, as your fingers kneaded the strain poisoning his muscles. You pretended not to notice, movements heartbreakingly tender. Had anyone ever been this gentle with him?

“You do more than anyone could ever ask you to. Well,” you amended softly, a hint of fond exasperation colouring your tone, “anyone but yourself.” Your hands continued to work in tandem with your words, one a balm to the aches of his body and the other a balm to the aches your hands couldn’t wash away. “You do so much for this city, for people who won’t ever know it.”

The churrs that rumbled his chest were deep and Leo couldn’t do anything to prevent the unwinding of his limbs and the slowing of his anxious thoughts under the comforting weight of your affection and acceptance. He brought his hand up to clasp one of your own. You were so small it made his heart clench with fear and desire, and for a moment he felt that familiar feeling of inadequacy at his own monstrosity before you chased it away with a loving kiss to each fingertip. He swallowed thickly as you managed to tangle your fingers with his, your hands slotting together with ease. You smiled at him and kissed the top of his head, squeezing his hand, and he pushed himself deeper into your embrace. Looking at your joined hands again, Leo pressed his lips reverently against each knuckle, feeling like if Icarus had somehow managed to cradle the sun. He repeated the kisses once, then twice. Thank you.

You smile wider and he lets you lead him to his bed and your accepting arms.

#tmnt #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo #leonardo tmnt #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo #leo tmnt #i am so in love with leo wow

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callalillywrites · 1 month ago

Text

Bad Idea Made Better

My first entry for @flufftober's Fluff Bingo. A5 - "This is a bad idea."

This is also my first real fic for Aaron Hotchner and the Criminal Minds fandom. I hope I did him justice here.

Fluff Bingo Masterlist | Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2200

Summary: Everyone is wanting to celebrate Dave's newest bestseller, but things go a bit awry. Thankfully, you and Aaron know how to work together to make everything better.

Warnings: mentions of illness; surprise parties; lots of fluff and sweetness all around

A/N: I really do adore this story, and I'm definitely looking forward to writing more of Hotch as he's always been one of my favs from the show.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

"I don't know, Aaron. This feels like a really bad idea," you couldn't saying as you both juggled the multiple objects in your hands. "Dave doesn't strike me as someone who appreciates others invading his space."

Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to chuckle at your misgivings.

When you would've liked to nudge him or playfully shove him for laughing, all the stuff in your arms prevented you. The only thing left in your arsenal was snark, and you'd always had plenty of it.

Before you could unleash any though, Dave's front door opened.

Penelope squealed upon seeing the many items you two carried, motioning you both inside. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, I'm so glad you're here. We could really use your help, my sweet lady."

You didn't get to ask why because Penelope had grabbed the only free space she could find and dragged you from Aaron's side. A glance behind you to see Aaron shaking his head, his smile visible and growing, before you were pulled deeper into Dave's home.

Penelope didn't let go until she'd gotten you into the massive and beautifully kept kitchen.

Well, used to be beautifully kept, you realized. It honestly took you a few moments to find the kitchen you considered your dream kitchen under all the mess.

"What happened in here?"

That was all it took for Penelope to dive into the juicy info she'd gathered since she arrived that morning.

From your understanding, Joy had been in the process of starting some food prep with her hubby when Kai woke up sick. Of course, they'd dropped everything and took Kai to the ER. His temp was way too high, and he complained of tummy ache. The ER took them forever. Kai was diagnosed with a stomach bug that should resolve itself in a few days. By the time they returned to Dave's place, they'd been too exhausted to even recall the mess they'd left behind.

Kai, understandably, has been their priority over any cleaning they might've done this morning before Penelope and Derek arrived.

"Penny," you surveyed the damage, not comprehending how a little prep has led to this much mess, "this can't be all Joy."

"Oh, it's not," she assured you before she recounted more of this kitchen's odyssey.

When she and Derek arrived, they did set out to clean up and start over, but neither of them had ever really been so great at making pasta, let alone Dave's favorite dishes. They'd gathered every cookbook they could find around the house before Penelope got out her laptop.

Every appliance Dave owned had been pulled from their respective spaces and used in some capacity. Not one of them had been saved from a dusting of flour or whatever paste the two had seemed to create instead of pasta dough. Some of it even appeared to have started crusting over, hardening where it'd been left.

"Take these," you said in a nonsense but gentle tone, "and get Aaron. I'm going to need his help in here. Oh, and Penny, please pray I can get through this mess and still have time to make everything we agreed to make."

"On it, sweet lady," she said, her heeled steps clicking her departure. She paused in the doorway and met your gaze over her shoulder, her smile sweet and infectious. "I'm really glad you're here, and I have complete faith in you."

You surveyed the mess once more, developing a working game plan. The mess would take at least a half-hour to clean. Another hour or so to make enough food for the surprise party. Time would be cutting it close, but you felt confident this could work.

"What do you need, honey?" Aaron asked, his arms coming around your middle.

Your confidence increased at his arrival and sweet words of assistance.

Turning in his arms, you rose as high as your toes allowed to place a sweet kiss on his lips. A smile crept over your features as you met his warm brown eyes. "Your attention to detail and some elbow grease."

"You've always got those," he said with such promise. His lips curved into a grin that had your insides melting a little, but you reluctantly pushed those feelings aside. Oh, this man could do things to you that you never thought anyone would be able to do.

It took a moment before you regained your professionalism and set him to work.

Between you two, Dave's disaster of a kitchen returned to his level of pristine cleanliness. You'd even done it with a few minutes to spare with the half-hour block you'd estimated earlier.

It helped that you two had learned to work so well together, having cooked many meals together.

Sure, the days where Jack joined were a bit more chaotic, but they were no less fun and soul healing. Jack, not so little anymore, still proved helpful and resourceful whenever a mishap threatened to topple whatever plans had been made. He'd even picked up quite a few skills from both you and Aaron, doing his part whenever it was called for.

You wouldn't trade any of the days you've shared with Aaron and Jack for anything, you realized, as he set up the few appliances you needed. Your love for them had been set deep within your heart, and you looked forward to having as many more as they'd allow you.

"What's that face?" Aaron asked, his hand coming up to trace over your cheek. "I don't know that I've seen that face before. You okay, honey?"

Shaking yourself, you smiled with all the love you had. "Yeah, I'm good. Really good."

He studied you another moment. Whatever he saw must've lent truth to your words because he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

A squeal from the doorway had you both turning towards it. Wry grins stole over your features as only one could make that noise from the team, and that was Penelope.

"You two are just so cute," she gushed.

Her hands were clenched beneath her chin as she practically vibrated where she stood.

You could only shake your head as you asked, "Need something, Penny?"

"Oh, yeah, I need to borrow Hotch. I'll send him right back, sweet lady."

After assuring Aaron and Penelope you could manage on your own for a bit, you quickly set about to work. The first task you needed to complete was making enough pasta for everyone joining for this celebration of Dave's latest bestseller.

A quick glance at the clock promised you'd have just enough time to get everything finished on time as long as no other hiccups occurred.

Aaron returned a few minutes later, and Joy even managed to join you two. She quickly figured out what was left and set about doing that, her gratitude evident despite her exhausted state.

When you were certain you had everything under control, you quickly searched out the fully stocked fridge and cabinets of Dave's kitchen. After grabbing a few items, you set them down on the counter and quickly made up something soft but filling for Joy, Kai, and Shawn. It wouldn't do to make them wait another hour or so for Dave's surprise dinner to eat something.

"You really don't have to do that," Joy said when she realized what you were doing.

Shaking your head, you shushed her. "It's not a problem. I've learned how fussy a young boy can be when they're not feeling well. This was one of Jack's favorites whenever he caught something. Maybe it'll help Kai as well."

Joy didn't argue after that, simply sat and watched as you finished everything up yet again.

When you would've trayed it up, Aaron stopped you, nudging you aside and taking over. His hands took up the few plates and bowls you'd prepared and set them in a manner that only one trip would be needed.

"I'll bring the tray if you'd like to grab the drinks, Joy," he said and waited until she led the way from the kitchen. When he reached the doorway, he paused a moment to meet your gaze. The softest smile graced his features as he said, "Do you know how much I love you?"

A smile bloomed until your cheeks hurt.

You nodded. "I do, and I love you just as much, Aaron."

"That's impossible, honey."

He didn't give you the chance to argue, his feet quickly taking him out of the doorway and catching up to Joy.

With the kitchen to yourself once more, you turned back to what was left to do.

Well, you thought you had it to yourself.

A noise near the back door had you turning to find Dave standing there. His suitcase sat at his feet and an amused but affectionate expression rested on his own obviously face.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, mia bella," he spun his keys in his hand before coming further into the kitchen and sitting at his large island, "to know how much you mean to this team and even to my family."

Being the premier profiler, he didn't give you a chance to flounder but rather continued by changing the subject. "So, how much damage have they done to my house?"

You huffed, shaking your head at him. Amusement filled you when you caught the twinkling humor lurking in his expressive eyes. He only allowed a few people to see his mischievous side, and you felt quite honored to be one of those people.

"I'm sure it's not too bad. I did try and tell them this was a bad idea, but they were quite insistent as I'm sure you're aware."

"You're a good kid. If Aaron doesn't put a ring on your finger soon, let me know. We'll find you a good Italian boy, someone who'll appreciate all you have to offer."

To emphasize his words, he reached into the pan closest to him and snatched some of the pasta you'd just finished preparing. A soft moan of appreciation left his throat almost involuntarily, chewing slowly to enjoy each of the flavors you added.

"If I were twenty years younger…"

"You would make me wife number five?"

"You wound me, mia bella."

"My apologies, Dave," you said sincerely.

"Hotch is gone five minutes, Rossi, and you're over here trying to propose to his girl," Derek said from the doorway, his brows raised even as a wide grin spread over his face. "You're either a brave man or a stupid one. Ring or no ring, we all know Hotch is all in with Pretty Mama."

"That I am," Aaron agreed, stepping back into the room.

He didn't stop until he returned to your side where he belonged and had belonged for some time. His arm came up to wrap around your waist even as he dropped a kiss into your hair.

In a voice low enough only you'd hear, he said, "I have the ring at home. I'm taking you to dinner this weekend. Your favorite place. Our favorite table there. Have them slip it into your favorite dessert. Hope with everything in me that you'll say yes."

"You got Jack's blessing?"

He nodded. "He helped me pick out the ring. Even told me it took me long enough."

Laughter spilled out of you at that. Leave it to Jack Hotchner to know what he wanted before his father did. It heartened you to know that Jack cared about you that much as you cared about him just the same. You'd do anything for Jack, including stepping aside if he didn't want you in his or his father's life anymore.

Meeting his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the love he so freely expressed in his gaze. It was enough to have your breath catching. His love for you hadn't been a secret for several months now, but every time he looked at you like that, you always lost your breath. How could you not when you had a man like Aaron Hotchner?

"What do you think?" he asked after a moment too long in silence. "Bad idea?"

You shook your head. It took several rapid blinks to get your emotions back under control. One of your dreams was coming true even if it was going to be another couple of days. You could wait. You would wait forever if it mean a lifetime with Aaron and with Jack.

"No, no," you said, swallowing down the lump that had risen, "it's a very good idea. The best idea you've ever had."

"So, you'll say yes?"

Happiness swelled within you, but you tempered it. No reason to not tease him for a moment after the incredibly sweet bombshell he'd dropped on you. Your eyes were surely twinkling as you said, "Guess you'll have to wait until this weekend to find out. Though, I'm certain the odds will be in your favor."

"You're going to keep me on my toes, aren't you, honey?"

"Always."

He pressed a kiss to your hair again as he whispered, "Good."

#fluffbingo #flufftober #criminal minds #aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #fluff #this was a bad idea #established relationship

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