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taetaespeaches · 3 years

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“Quick question… what are you doing in the closet?”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hi lovelies!! This fic takes place pretty early on in Yoongi and Kid/reader’s relationship. They’re very much together but Kid has yet to spend much time with Min Holly (at least alone). And basically, that’s what this fic is- Yoongi leaves Min Holly with Kid for the night and when a storm hits, Yoongi comes back to the apartment to find Kid and Min Holly being very cute. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

“Are you sure you’re good?” Your boyfriend asked you for the third time in a matter of minutes, his eyes traveling to the small dog exploring your apartment.

Widening your eyes at him, you cocked your head. “Why are you so worried, do you really not trust me with him?”

Sighing, the man held back the grin threatening to form on his lips.

“Don’t laugh right now,” you pointed warningly at him, your empty threat causing him to break, the gummy smile appearing in front of your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whined, dragging his name out as you lightly smacked his chest.

“Of course I trust you,” he chuckled, stepping forward once so he could wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you to him. Pouting at him, accompanied by a glare, Yoongi giggled. “I was just teasing you, Kid,” he admitted, pushing his lips to yours gently, you stubbornly not responding. “Min Holly is in the best hands with you.”

“Damn straight he is,” you bragged, Yoongi scoffing as he planted a kiss to your cheek.

Yoongi’s brother was on vacation, leaving Min Holly purely in Yoongi’s custody for the next week. However, the first day of his brother’s vacation just happened to be on the day of a BTS video shoot that would keep Yoongi busy well into the night. That’s where you came in; dog sitter of the year.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You asked, Yoongi humming in thought.

“Probably early morning. Two or three a.m., maybe later,” he told you, you gasping in mostly feigned surprise. Your relationship with the man was still rather new, but you did understand his work caused him to have some pretty late, sleepless nights.

“That’s so late, you’ll be so sleepy,” you cooed through a pout.

“I’ll be ok,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment as you leaned into his touch. “Thank you for helping me out,” he whispered against your brow, his breath fanning across the top of your face. “I just feel bad leaving him alone overnight,” he smiled, your lips following suit in response to the adorable admission.

“It’s no problem, of course I’m happy to watch him,” you assured Yoongi, tilting your head back to look up at him. “You honey boy,” you teased, Yoongi letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I gotta get going, I’ll text you updates,” he assured you as he took a step back, scanning the apartment’s living room in search of the dog. “Where-” he began to ask where the dog went when Holly popped his head up from the sofa, catching both of yours and Yoongi’s gazes. “Oh sure, make yourself right at home,” he chuckled at the dog.

“He’s so cute, I’m gonna love this,” you told Yoongi, looking at him with bright eyes. “Good luck at your shoot, Min,” you began shooing him out of the apartment, Yoongi backing up as you gently shoved against his frame.

“Are you kicking me out?” He teased, his eyes wide, his face full of pretend offense.

“I have plans,” you directed a head nod toward the dog.

Chuckling in amusement at you, his shoulders shaking slightly, Yoongi turned toward the door and began walking across the room, you following just behind him. When he reached the exit, he quickly turned around, his hands finding your face instantly as he pulled your lips to his greedily. Your hands grasped at his forearms as you kissed him back with just as much fervor, humming contently into the meeting.

Pulling his face from yours, you slowly opened your eyes, watching as Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open shortly after. “Don’t miss me too much,” you teased the man playfully, that adorable gummy grin overtaking his features, his cheeks soft and kissable. Had you more time with him, you would have kissed them repeatedly until he whined for you to stop as the fluffy cheeks warmed in a pink shade. But that would have to wait for his return, as he was nearly running late.

“Bye Kid,” he said simply, you smiling as he turned to leave.

“Go be hot on camera,” you shouted out after him, a scoff meeting your ears, though those shoulders shook adorably as the door shut behind him.

Smiling at the front door, you sighed in content. Turning to face the dog who was staring at you intently, you shrugged. “I think we’re alone now,” you sing-songed to the dog, making him cock his head at you. As you made your way back across the room to the dog, excitement in your steps, you beamed at Min Holly. “Are you ready for our slumber party?” You cooed, scratching his little face as soon as you reached him. “Slumber party time?” You continued talking to the dog as he licked your nose affectionately.

You never were one to check the forecast often, so when the loud crash of thunder sounded outside, waking you from your sleep, you were as shocked as the poor little dog curled up against your side.

Lethargic, your eyes and voice still full of slumber, you reached for the dog and tugged him even closer. “Oh, Holly,” you pouted, looking outside your window to see rain streaking across it as it beat down against the pavement below. “That’s not going to be good for filming,” you mumbled aloud, thinking of your boyfriend and his fellow members.

With another loud rumble outside, the dog whimpered, scurrying off the bed in search of a place of solace. “Aw bubs,” you frowned, sitting up and crawling off the bed to collect him. However, as you approached the dog, he scampered off across the room, heading straight through the open closet door. “Do you want to hide in there?” You asked him, cocking your head at him as Holly stared at you from inside the closet. “Do you feel safe in there?” You asked him, watching as the dog slowly lowered into a laying position.

Spotting one of Yoongi’s hoodies hanging on the hook on the back of the closet door, you quickly made your way across the room and grabbed it, crouching down to situate the clothing around the small dog. “There, that should make you feel safer too,” you pouted, petting the top of Holly’s head gently. Moving your hand to scratch under his chin, however, he put the weight of his head in your palm, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Are you going to let me go back to the bed?” You asked in amusement. “Or am I going to have to join you in here?” You wondered, the dog staring at you with the most adorable sad eyes you’d ever seen. Sighing, you scooped him up in your arms before crawling on your knees to sit inside the closet. Planting yourself on your butt and leaning back against the wall, you crossed your legs before placing the hoodie over your lap, then setting Holly down atop it.

It didn’t take long for the dog to get comfortable, his head squished against your hip as he was lured back to sleep by the sound of the rain outside the apartment. And well, you must have followed him into slumber shortly after, because the next thing you knew, you were being awoken by a gentle sensation against the side of your face and a hushed whisper near your ear.

“Kid,” you heard the voice call out to you softly. Peeling your eyes open reluctantly, you squinted at the man kneeling beside you, his gummy grin being the first sight that entered your awakened consciousness.

“Honey boy,” you yawned, Yoongi chuckling softly at you. Reaching out to him, you brushed his hair off his forehead only to find that the strands were cold and wet. “Your hair is soaked,” you noted, Yoongi nodding as he smiled.

“It’s raining,” he pointed out, you frowning at him.

“That’s right,” you remembered, looking down at the dog in your lap who was awake, but unmoving as he refused to lose his comfort, and probably still too scared to leave the confines of the closet. “You need to change your clothes,” you told Yoongi. “But you can’t have your hoodie because Holly’s using it,” you pointed out, Yoongi scoffing in amusement at you.

“Well good thing your clothes are conveniently located right here,” he nodded to the clothing hanging, simultaneously shooting you an incredulous expression as he drew attention to the fact that he came to your apartment to find you sleeping in his closet, propped up against the wall.

“What’s with the face?” You asked him in response to his expression, playing with him, turning it into a game.

“What the hell are-”

“How was the shoot?” You interrupted, though nonchalantly, purposely not addressing the elephant in the room- or more like the human in the closet.

“It was good,” he nodded a few times, “you know, until the rain hit.”

Sucking air between your teeth, you frowned. “Did it ruin everything?”

“No, luckily we wrapped the outdoor scenes just as it started storming.”

“Oh that’s great, I’m glad it worked out ok,” you grinned.

“Mhmm,” he hummed with a small nod. “I’m stealing a sweatshirt,” he informed you, you instantly humming in thought.

“I’ll allow it.”

“How very generous of you,” he responded playfully, holding back a budding smile. “Hey uh, quick question.”

“What’s that?”

The man shrugged at you, a smile curving on his lips. “What are you doing in the closet?”

“Oh right,” you slowly nodded, the man chuckling at you. “You see, your dog is a bit of a wuss, but he’s cute so it’s ok,” you told him as looked down to the dog who was refusing to lift his head to face the storm.

“Were you scared of the lightning Holly?” Yoongi asked the dog as he pet the sweet frightened pup, a soft grin on his lips that made your own mouth curve into a smile.

“Yeah, he abandoned me on the bed and came in here and I was just going to give him your hoodie to lay with but then he gave me those eyes,” you pouted as Yoongi watched you relay the story in utter fondness for you. “He was torn because he wanted to be with me but also, you know, the storm,” you emphasized, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking in laughter. “So I decided, well, I’ll just sit with him for a bit.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know, I fell asleep,” you giggled, a snort leaving the man as he shook his head at you, though adoringly.

“So you really insisted on being the cutest human alive tonight, huh?” He asked you just before directing his gaze to the dog. “Holly, what’s up bud, don’t you think you’re milking this a bit?”

With both of you looking down at the pup, you watched as Yoongi gently scratched Holly’s head. “He’s just too cute, I didn’t have the heart to leave him in here alone,” you pouted, glancing up to find your boyfriend’s gaze already directed to you.

Yoongi didn’t speak, rather, his orbs simply scanned your features, appreciating the sight. He slowly leaned toward you, his lips easily finding yours, meeting you in a sweet kiss. The meeting didn’t last long, but it was soft and felt like home.

“You’re a sweetheart, Kid,” he complimented as he separated from you, just before he stood. Suddenly the man stripped himself of his slightly wet top before turning his attention to your clothing.

Staring up at him, appreciating his bare upper body, you watched as his hands grabbed an oversized lavender-colored sweatshirt. Pulling it off the hanger quickly, he had it situated over his body within seconds. Looking down at you, he met your gaze, smirking at your engrossed expression.

“You’re pretty in lavender,” you whispered to him, a bashful grin overtaking his face.

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering once again. “Alright little guy,” he suddenly addressed Holly as he pulled away from you. “You gotta let my girlfriend out of the closet,” he told the dog, patting his thighs to try to coax his dog to him, only for the dog to spite him by not even flinching toward his owner.

“Honey boy, he’s still scared,” you pouted, Yoongi’s eyes shifting from Holly to you. Thinking for a moment, he sighed, turning his back on you and heading toward the bed. You watched him carefully, following his every move as he pulled the comforter off the mattress and grabbed two pillows.

The man avoided your eye contact as he waddled back to the closet, a frown etched in his features though you knew he wasn’t actually upset by anything. It was obvious he found this whole situation quite adorable.

Appearing in front of you, he stepped over your body, as well as Min Holly, and dropped the blanket and pillows onto the floor with a thud. Next, he was pulling his jeans off his frame, tossing them onto the bedroom floor outside the closet, his eyes following them as they descended to the floor, your eyes glued to his now bare limbs. You actually couldn’t see the upper majority of his legs due to the oversized material of the sweatshirt, which made him look rather cute.

“You’re very hot,” you complimented with a smirk, the man scoffing as he picked up the comforter before nodding to the dog that was looking up at him curiously.

“Lift him so I can cover you with this,” he told you, you smirking as you pulled Holly from your lap to your chest, allowing Yoongi to tuck you in.

“You’re being really cute,” you smiled, Yoongi holding back a grin of his own as he simply hummed. “These are honey boy antics, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’m soft for you and my dog, so what,” he dismissed nonchalantly, all while your smile grew larger, your heart racing with affection for the man. When Yoongi lowered himself to take the spot next to you, he lifted a pillow, silently staring at you as he waited for you to sit up so he could put the pillow underneath your head. Fluffing it slightly, he nodded once with a small close-mouthed smile before grabbing his own pillow and doing the same thing again.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you told him sincerely as you rested back against the pillow, the cushion feeling nice and relieving on your slightly strained neck. Turns out closets aren’t really the most comfortable sleeping space.

“Thanks for taking care of my dog,” he replied with that same adorable grin, which accentuated the plushness of his cheeks. As Holly moved to lay between the both of you, you leaned toward your boyfriend, holding his face in place so you could press a series of smooches to his plush cheek. Finally.

Whining slightly at your incessant affection, Yoongi squirmed away from you, only to turn and face you and press his lips to yours in a messy and playful meeting. Laughing into the kiss, Yoongi couldn’t help but smile as well, a light chuckle leaving those pretty lips as he pulled away from you.

“Go back to sleep,” he told you, his face full of fond adoration as he settled into his spot, pulling the comforter up as his hand found the dog. Yoongi pet Holly’s face as the dog leaned into the touch. “You too,” he directed to the dog in a playful demand. “I don’t know what your end game is here, bud. Are you trying to steal my girl?” he questioned the furry pal, you giggling at you nuzzled your face against the pillow, reaching out to drape your arm overtop Yoongi’s body. “You can’t have her,” Yoongi whispered, a smile stretching across your face. “I won’t let you.”

“He’s a charmer,” you mumbled through a yawn, your sleepiness hitting you suddenly.

“So am I,” Yoongi countered, rolling onto his side so he faced you. As your eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking you quickly, the man watched you lovingly. “I’m hot, remember.”

“That’s true,” you agreed sleepily. “The hottest.”

Yoongi continued to watch as your body became more relaxed underneath the warmth of the comforter; the warmth of having Yoongi next to you, and of course, Min Holly. Though his own eyes were becoming heavy, he kept them open to appreciate the way your face relaxed, your lips becoming pouted as your exhales slipped between them in slowed breaths.

“Tell me one thing,” you suddenly spoke up, your voice surprising Yoongi out of his trance.

“Hm,” he hummed for you to continue, a soft smile planted on his mouth.

“Were you hot on camera?” You asked him, referring to his video shoot.

A silent chuckle left the man, his hand leaving Min Holly, and finding your own hand that rested between your bodies. Wrapping his fingers around your own, he stared at your hands connected; your skin was warm against his, Yoongi sighing contently.

“I was hot on camera,” he confirmed, a smile just barely tugging on your lips that made him chuckle lightly in response.

“That’s my honey boy,” you whispered, burying yourself further into the pillow.” There was a pause, and Yoongi was about to shut his own eyes and allow himself to be dragged into dreamland. However, you spoke once again, the man sighing as he prepared to tell you to go to sleep, but your words kept him quiet; surprise and excitement coursing through his every limb as soon as the words met his ears. “I’m falling for you,” you admitted in your nearly unconscious state.

“Falling for me?” He questioned, his voice barely audible as a bashful smile curved on his lips, those kissable cheeks tinting pink. You would have cooed at the sight had your eyes been open.

He knew you were unaware of your confession, but he hoped it was as genuine as he believed it to be. Yoongi wouldn’t bring up the confession; no teasing the next day; no pressure for elaboration at a later date. But with the warmth that filled his frame as he watched you breathe deeply, finally having given in to your tiredness, he was certain that he felt the same way.

You were falling for him. And he had already fallen in love with you.

Yoongi’s eyes slowly left your face, traveling down to find the dog staring up at him.

“Hear that?” He whispered to his dog, a gummy smile planted on his face as his eyes shined with the brightness of new love. “She’s falling for me.”

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stickynotestoletters · 3 years

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ugggh so I am a dirty little slut for sal fisher and I had a thought about it sooooo,,,,

Sal Fisher x GN (masc body) headcanons of what he's like with you

this is gonna be very heavily influenced by the fact I am sleepy and really wanna write this rn!

Warnings: Non-canon-compliant (Sal lives, Larry lives, Todd doesn't go crazy, no murder), some NSFW stuff, switch-bottom leaning Sal, Service Top Sal

Highschool

When he first meets you he's, hands down, the most flustered he's ever been before

Like, he's really into you

He just sees you in the hall and immediately blushes

he goes around his days as usual and stuff still but now he's eyeing you whenever you come into view

it's cute, he looks like a little kitten peering at you from around the corner because he’s too shy to say something

Larry makes little jokes about it and always tells him to talk to you

"wow, what a stalker" is his usual line when he finds Sal looking at you from somewhere

he musters up the courage to talk to you in his junior year when you wear a Sanity's Fall's shirt to class one day

from then on you two talk together whenever you have class and stuff

your parents move into the apartments in your senior year because of a demotion and you and Sal start hanging out outside of school

He finally asks you out on the last day of senior year

You and the gang go out to the football field the night after graduation

after they clean up all of the equipment for the stage

You guys end up smoking a blunt because Larry brought some of his stash and, hey, what's the harm?

You and Sal end up laying in the middle of the field while Larry chases Ash and Todd around on the bleachers

They're laughing and howling at the moon so you two just listen

Sal takes his mask off cause he feels more comfortable laying with it off

He takes out his pigtails and you comb through his hair for a bit

You look him in the eyes and just stop brushing your fingers through his hair long enough for him to look up at you

your eyes both meet and you two just stare

You see the stars in his eyes

Sal just thinks "You're the prettiest person I've ever seen"

"what?" "uhhhh....nothing"

"It's okay Sal!" You giggle at him and he giggles too

you both start giggling at each other and you two hug each other

still, just facing each other, heads tucked into shoulders, chests pressed so tightly together, legs intertwined

It's calm

He feels safe

So safe and warm

It's wonderful

So he sighs and says" I think I'm in love with you"

And it's an accident

He doesn't regret it, not processing it until you say "I'm in love with you too silly"

And you stay like that

no panic or guilt

just tucked away into each other

The gang goes to 7/11 that night-morning really it is 3 am-and get slushies

all of them are teasing you guys as you hold hands on the way there

it's cute

He's cute

You're cute

You both feel warm in the jackets you switch from each other

it's cute

"God the stalker finally got the victim in their clasps, another tragically happy ending" "Shut it Larry Face"

College

You both end up staying in different places after high school

You take a year off college and stay with your parents at Addison Apartments and Sal moves into the gang's house

It's nice, you see each other regularly for dates and ghost hunts

it's blissful

Then Sal starts having his nightmares again and you come over regularly for sleepovers

it's months into this routine of going home, getting new clothes from the apartments, go out with Sal, come and sleep at his place to help with nightmares, repeat that Larry has the most brilliant idea

"Why don't you just move in with Sal? You practically live with him anyway."

This is in front of you two, you're both at the gang's house and drinking some morning coffee

Sal not really jokes and agrees

And then you genuinely agree

It's a big moment for you two

Sal wanted you to move in right away but was scared his nightmares would affect you or you two wouldn't end up working out

So you two complied and stayed where you were

But this is gonna be an actual conversation where he is up for it and knows you two are stable

So you talk about it

You two agree

And you end up moving in that day

it's not that hard since most of your clothes are over there already

It's basically just moving your bed, knick-knacks, and bookshelf in so that's just the big things since you have a queen

It's bliss from there

you both settle into a nice routine and after you start college Sal decides to focus on his music for rn and take a break

You get a job and the dynamic is just... so pure

you guys are finally, finally, okay and the best thing is that you're together

He's still adorable and you're still sweet

You guys end up getting your own apartment outside of Nockfell and Addison Apartments

The gang stays around

Larry ends up moving in with you two for a little bit until he can afford his own place

Sal gets a lot more gigs out there in the city than he would have gotten in Nockfell and you get a job at a little club

Sal ends up playing there often because of you

NSFW headcanons

Okay so Sal is a hopeless romantic

before he moved to Nockfell he never really had anybody else who was interested in him

so he was super hopeless in planning your first time together

once you had slept over with each other a couple of times he makes this grand layout and waits for you to walk in to see him spred on the bed, clad in some cute underwear and nothing else

turns out though you were sick and sent Larry to tell Sal you couldn’t come over cause your phone was dead and you didn’t wanna get him sick

So Larry ends up walking in on a naked Sal and scarying the everloving crap out of him

He makes fun of y'all after that about it

So your first time is honestly uneventful after that whole fiasco

Deciding to just causally hook up at his place instead

Sal is a switch but he leans for bottoming

he can top, he's really good at being a service top

He’s not insecure about himself, he’s pretty big for his height *cough* (9.7) *cough*

but he prefers being spoiled and called pretty

loves being called feminine nicknames like "pretty baby" even if he is topping

stuff that's gender-neutral but is more feminine in origin

He likes it when you do it doggy-style if you're topping just cause if you press him into the mattress he can feel you better inside of him

Whines so much when you go faster

really likes getting fucked stupid, he wants his throat to be sore and his ass to be bed-ridden

Loves topping you when you're in his lap straddling him

He really likes to make you do work for a while, guides you and everything until you're breaking

when you eventually end up asking for him to "just fuck me already Sal...please?" He wants tears down your face, crying and desperate for him or else it’s not gonna happen

He ends up fucking into you like a monster from there if you are

loves when you lay on your back and he's on his knees sitting and thrusting into you, pulling you onto his lap

very vocal either way but he laughs and giggles more with you, his moans are less fucked out and more "oh god, yes!" in nature

His sex drive is really high, he could go for hours

If you end up getting tired when he's bottoming he's gonna bounce on your pretty cock and ride you so pathetically

It's so pathetically adorable

but if he's topping and you get tired he usually asks you if he can fuck you to sleep

You end up agreeing only if he cleans you up after

He doesn't have any severe kinks or whatnot

He's really into being breed though

Tie him up too while you do it

he likes gags as well

when you breed him he'll end up feeling bad after you finish and he can't feel it anymore once it's out

So you end up giving him a buttplug after to compromise

Sometimes if he's being a brat you'll tie him up, gag him, and leave him with a vibrator over stimming him

You'll leave him in the room and come back to a crying Sal, salivating and so fucked out without having even cum once

If you're ever being the brat he does the exact opposite

He'll tie you up but make it so you can't close your mouth

You have to be quiet though, he doesn’t want to hear anything louder than breathing and your pathetic whimpers

you're over stimmed to hell and orgasm so much it's difficult to keep awake

but do not fall asleep cause if you don't get through it to the end it won't end (Consensually of course)

He and Larry definitely hooked up once or twice before meeting you so I think he'd ask you to let him in on it

It becomes a regular occurrence until Larry moves out

But when you do have a threesome and he is feeling dominant get ready to not move for the next three weeks

It's nice though and doesn't end up changing the relationship between you three

That's it, I gotta stop before I cream myself into dirtier shit cause I am his slut. I have Sal Fisher brain rot syndrome so I'll definitely make another one eventually. Request some stuff and I'll be happy to write!

Continuation for Threesome hcs here by request

-Laika

#Sally Face fanfiction #Sal Fisher x gn reader #Sal Fisher x male reader #Sal Fisher #Sally Face #Sal Fisher smut #Sal Fisher hcs #Sally Face hcs #Sal Fisher smut hcs

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glowingspence · 3 years

Note

I love you prompt:

Number 12 with moreid please! They’re out working a case and Spencer forgets his jacket, but puts up with things because he doesn’t want to wear a BAU jacket because of how many people have used them. Derek asks if he’s cold but Spencer keeps saying no because of the company jacket thing, thinking Derek will give him one- and he doesn’t want that. Eventually his uncontrollably shaking and his fingers are numb, and it quickly clicks why Spencer didn’t want a BAU jacket, so Derek gives him his own jacket and takes a BAU one for himself :))

"I am sorry but it's gotta be this way." Hotch tells Spencer who rolled his eyes the minute Hotch announced that he is gonna stay with the search party, "I know you hate the cold"

"That is an understatement" Emily chimes in.

"It's okay" Spencer promises and heads towards the car Morgan is already waiting in.

"JJ and I are gonna take over in the morning." Emily calls after him before he gets into the car.

"We should get going" Morgan announces and starts driving off the parking lot of the precinct noticing how Spencer is quiet next to him for the whole drive over, sitting on his hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I am fine"

"Is this about the dark? I promise you I am gonna be with you this whole time okay?" Derek tries finding out what's up with his boyfriend. "You hear me? There are lights and everything. We are just waiting at the checkpoint, we aren't searching the woods."

"I heard you, it's okay. I am not afraid" Spencer gives back and adds a quick smile.

"Whatever you say, baby."

"But you are still gonna stay close right?" Spencer quickly asks.

"Always." Morgan chuckles when Spencer leans over and kisses him on the cheek before they get out and into the cold. "Here is your flashlight for emergencies"

"Thank you"

"Let's get to work." They get lost in conversations and arguments with officers quickly, Spencer planning the routes, Morgan talking to the officers that are on the move over the radio but he doesn't stop noticing how Spencer is shivering and is constantly tapping his hands on the table so eventually he goes to stand behind Spencer, moving his hand up and down his arm, figuring that he must be terrified with the forrest right behind him.

"If it gets to much we can call Rossi to replace you, it's okay." He assures him while leaning down to him, both hands placed on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath with me c'mon."

"I am not anxious."

"You are shaking, your teeth are clattering from it. It's nothing to be ashamed off."

"I am not having- I am good could you please let me work!" Spencer snaps at him, shrugging his hands off his shoulder. "Thank you"

"It's okay" Morgan assumes him and reaches down to his hand that he pulls away immediately, "You are ice cold"

Derek points out and grabs the hand again, holding the thin fingers in his hand. "Jesus you are freezing."

"No"

"Spencer I can feel it." He takes his free hand up to Spencer's face feeling his cheek, "You are-"

"I am fine, stop touching me"

"I am gonna get you a jacket." Derek announces.

"No I am fine"

"You are not fine"

"I am fine!" Frustrated Spencer hits his thigh with his fist. "Can you not just leave me alone?"

"Okay" In surrender Morgan takes his hands up and gets interrupted by a request over the radio and when he comes back to Spencer, he is still shaking in his seat, "Baby please, put a jacket on."

"No"

"Is it a sensory thing?"

"No, I am just not cold."

"What do you mean you are not cold?" Demonstrating he touches Spencer's face again, "You are freezing-"

"Stop touching my face with your dirty hands!" He yells getting up from the chair and before Morgan can say something he gets caught up again to come back to Spencer still working on the map, slightly rocking back and forth on the chair, his legs moving up and down. "No more touching. No more touching."

"No more touching. I promise." Worried Morgan crouches down next to him, "Listen baby, it's really cold and I am pretty sure you know that. And it's okay, I understand, you don't want a jacket, we can talk about this later but it's either layering up in any way or you need to get back to the precinct. You are endangering yourself."

"I am cold. I know I am cold." Spencer confirms, frustrated by his own shaking.

"I am gonna get a jacket-"

"No!" Spencer yells and ones again Derek gets interrupted, walking away from him to take care of it and when he comes back the first thing he does is take his jacket off, placing it over Spencer's shoulders,

"Take my jacket, it's cold outside." Concerned Morgan takes Spencer's arm and guides it through the sleeve, "You are gonna take my jacket and then we are gonna call Hotch and you are gonna get your ass over to the hotel. You will be sick."

"Your jacket is okay." Spencer speaks between clattering his teeth. "So warm" He whispers while Derek leans over him, "Thank you"

"I asked you a million times if you wanted a jacket." Morgan curses, closing the zipper. "Jesus"

"Not a jacket, all the jackets in the car are not mine."

"What?" Worried Derek keeps rubbing Spencer's arm, trying to warm him up, "This is my jacket you are wearing, not a BAU one."

"Good" Spencer reaches for his pen again even though his hands are numb and Derek presses his cheek to Spencer's, feeling his ice cold skin. "This is nice"

"This touching okay?"

"Yes" Spencer bites his lips, "Very, thank you"

"We are gonna talk about this later."Derek announces before taking the next call and walking over to the car to get another jacket and just being relieved when JJ and Emily show up in the early morning.

"Turn the heat up, pretty boy." Spencer does, and then continues to hold his hands in front of the heater while Derek drives the car. "I can't even put into words how ready I am to get into bed."

"Me neither"

"I am gonna demand cuddles"

"You will get some" Spencer tells him with a grin and the minute they are get into the room they strip down and change into sweatpants before crawling into bed, Spencer on top of Morgan pressing his face against his chest while Morgan adjusts the blankets on them and slowly Spencer stops shaking on top of him, and Morgan can feel himself drifting off to sleep while holding Spencer, "I am sorry"

"For what?" Morgan whispers.

"For taking your jacket" Morgan can feel Spencer tapping his chest, his cold fingers meeting the warm skin over and over again before he moves higher, nuzzling his nose against Morgan's jawline before searching for a more comfortable position again, "I was so cold"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because-" Spencer yawns ones, "I didn't wanna disappoint you. I've been so good with germs but every since we got here-" He sniffles ones, "It's been hard and the jackets in the car- so many people have worn them."

"Oh baby." Morgan leans forward kissing him ones before pressing him closer to his chest, "It's okay, it's probably because the hotel we first checked in was so disgusting. Believe me we all felt anxious of other germs after that, and I know that this must have been terrifying but-" Morgan moves one hand to Spencer's hair, "Even if that didn't happen, it's okay that you are not always doing good, this is not what therapy is about. You have been working through so many things I don't expect it to go away completely. I could never be disappointed in you. I am proud of you, I am every day okay?"

"Mmm" With a chuckle Morgan looks at Spencer having his eyes closed.

"Might as well tell you that tomorrow again, sleepy head."

[Prompt list]

#thank you for the detailed request!#i hope this is what you wished for<3 #tw self harm #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #i love you prompt list works #my writing #autistic spencer reid

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ill-be-your-honey-bri · 4 years

Text

Banana Pancakes

HELLO MY LOVES! WHEW! This one took me WAY longer than I had wanted it to, but you know, life comes at ya and you gotta go with the punches.

That being said, this fic is part of @stellarboystyles THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC CHALLENGE! Congrats darling (though I’m a month late)! I had picked the single parent trope and the line I chose to use for the challenge is bolded and italicized in my fic.

Without further ado, I present my Nanny!Harry fic. Enjoy, leave a like, REBLOG FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Send me some feed back, asks, love or hate, I don't care. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!

I love you and treat people with kindness.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, a sprinkle of smut, and a dash of angst (if you squint).

Harry woke up to the smell of the crisp, cool fall air coming through his cracked bedroom window. The sky was still an inky fog as he stretched his arms over his head, skin pimpling as the air caressed him. He woke up before his alarm out of habit, knowing it would ring out shortly.

He roused out of his bed, extending his stretch through his legs and let out a satisfied groan when that one particular muscle in his lower back felt the pull it desired. He turned to his phone to turn his alarm off before going to the window to shut it, only after his dark tabby cat climbed back into his rightful home. Harry mumbled a ‘morning handsome’ to his fuzz ball, crouching down to give Elvis some morning loving.

Elvis followed Harry into the kitchen, knowing it was time for breakfast, mewing while figure-eighting between Harry’s feet.

“I know bub, I’m getting it.” Harry let out a yawn as he was filling the cat’s bowl. Elvis jumped on the counter, shoving his face in the bowl before Harry was even done filling it. “Eager this morning, are ya? Out there charming all the lady cats got you hungry? I hope you were a gentleman, I taught you better.”

Harry began making his coffee and filled his mug before returning to his room to get ready for the day. He decided on picking her favorite sweater; his blue ‘mon petite’ chickadee jumper. He laid it out on his bed as he pulled out his brown wide legged trousers and a striped button up to layer. He jumped in the shower to rinse off the morning haze and the ‘sleepies’, as his girl calls it.

His girl.

He smiled as he thought about her, what they had planned for the day. Maybe he will take her to the museum, stop by her favorite cafe, pick up a new book for them to read. He finished getting ready, pulling out his bike from the hallway closet to get it all set for his venture to his girl’s house. He grabbed his backpack, filled it with his girl’s favorite snacks, books, and their matching lavender water bottles, smiling as he threw his bag on his shoulders and carried his bike down the stairs of the apartment building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry got to his girl’s home, putting in the code as he turned the key as to not awake her with the alarm. He put down his bag by the entry table, kicking off his scuffed up white Vans before softly padding up the stairs. He saw the door cracked open, slowly pushing it open further before walking to kneel by the bed.

He gently pushed her unruly hair off her beautiful face, seeing her lips in a pout and a furrow in her brow. She stirred slightly before her big doe eyes sleepily blinked open, causing Harry to smile down at her, which earned him a smile back.

“Good morning, my sweet girl.”

“Mornin’, did mama leave yet?”

“Not yet, Monkey. You know she can never go to work without giving you your kiss.”

Layla sat up fully, making grabby hands for Harry to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Harry could hear you in the shower getting ready for work as Layla cuddled into him on his way to your kitchen.

If you would have asked Harry two years ago if he thought he would be the nanny to your daughter, he would have laughed at the idea. He had been working at a daycare center when he first met you and his girl, Layla.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was an infant when you had to return to work. Being a single mom, you needed to do what was best for you and your little bundle of joy. You had done extensive research on all the daycare facilities in your area, even venturing out a little further to get the best for your little angel. You had taken her to Small Wonders Daycare, nervous for your first day back as a pediatrician resident at the children’s hospital and your first day away from the love of your life.

You had walked into her assigned room provided by the administration when you completed the application and interview. The room was duckling yellow with moss green accents. Babies were laying on their bellies on the floor, being cooed at by a gentleman in a sheep sweater vest and tan trousers. He looked up to see you with Layla in her carrier, beaming and quickly hopped on his socked feet to meet you at the door. His co-teacher promptly laid with the little ones on the floor.

“You must be Mrs. Y/LN!”

“Um, no, just Dr. Y/LN or Y/N preferably.” You smiled at him as he was blushing from embarrassment.

“I - I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not the first time it has happened.” You smiled at him before looking down at your little one who is looking around with wide eyes. Harry also looked at the carrier, quickly gaining his composure as he saw the little beauty.

“And you must be Layla!” Cooing at her, causing her to smile and blink slowly. He got on his knees as you placed the carrier on the floor so that he was able to unhook her and gently pick her up to his chest. He softly looked down at her as she returned the gaze, “Don’t tell the other girls this but, you have got to be the most beautiful little girl I have ever met.”

Layla quickly nuzzled into his chest, scratching gently at one of the sheep on his vest, giving you a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that your daughter is already in good hands. You had tried not to cry as you told Harry her schedule and routine, handing him her diaper bag.

“She prefers her milk at room temp, she gets fussy if it's too hot or too cold. There is enough breastmilk for the day and formula as well, if you need it. She has been eating me dry.” Harry gave a light chuckle, handing you your baby as he was putting the breastmilk in the refrigerator, Layla’s diapers and wipes in their designated spot by the changing table.

“I packed some extra clothes in her bag too, lots of bibs. She is not the most ladylike when it comes to eating, huh baby?” You gently rubbed her cheek as you looked down at her with maternal love.

Harry, always in awe of the way a mother could love her child and after being with you for a few moments, he knew that you could never love or cherish anything more than the little being cradled in your arms. The way your daughter looked up at you with awe, watching your every movement. That was a love that Harry always craved for.

Seeing Layla grow was one of Harry's fondest memories. He was there when she started to take her first attempt at steps, babbling and cooing her first ‘words’. When it was time that Layla was meant to graduate from his class room, it broke his heart. And it broke yours too.

Harry and Layla had created such a bond, you couldn’t bear for them to part. So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you walked into the classroom to see Harry laying on his back with your little one being held up in the air, giggling away with a few teeth that finally peeked through her gums.

“Hello my little one!” You had knelt down on the carpet next to Harry as he was handing you Layla, who was extremely happy to see you; kicking her legs and squealing happily. “Did you have a good day?”

“She was a little monkey today!” Harry was packing up Layla’s diaper bag as he was telling you about her day. “She was trying to climb out of her crib, climbing all over my lap during lunch and my back during tummy-time.”

“Oh no! We just got crawling down like a boss and now you get the gall to start climbing! You’ll be walking before you know it and then we will be in real trouble, wont we missy?” You started to kiss her chubby cheeks, making giggles bubble from her tummy.

“I’ll certainly miss her.” Harry gave you a shy smile as he carried her diaper bag and a gift from him for Layla to you. He handed you her bag as you stood up before handing you the gift bag.

“What’s this?” You gave him a curious look as you took the bag in hand as you settled Layla on your hip.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and wiggled his socked toes. “It’s just a little something.”

Layla reached her arms out to Harry, as if she knew this would be the last day that they would be able to cuddle. You handed her over easily, tapping her bum before opening the gift bag. Inside was her favorite book to ‘read’ with Harry, (you're pretty sure it's because of the way Harry reads it to her because she crawls away every time you try to read it). There was a crochet sweater that Harry told you his mom made, and a framed photo of Harry and Layla where Layla is squeezing Harry's cheeks to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

You held your chest as you looked at the photo and tears began to well. “Harry, this is… this is so sweet, thank you. She loves you so much.”

He smiled down at her, scrunching his face, which Layla had mocked, “I guess I love her too. You have a very special girl on your hands.” He kissed her little nose before she cuddled onto his shoulder.

“I don’t want her to have a new teacher.” You wiped your eyes as you put Layla’s gifts back in the bag. “Would you want to be her nanny, Harry?”

Harry froze at the offer, a little taken back by being offered what he would consider to be a dream job; help you care for your perfect child. Granted, Harry had thought of this before but more of a fatherly figure than a nanny, but he would take what he could get to be close to both of his girls.

“What do you say Monkey? Want me to be your nanny?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry made his way down the stairs with Layla wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her little fingers were twisting in the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck as he was humming and rubbing circles on her back. Layla unraveled herself as Harry approached the table to set her down so that he could start the coffee maker and begin making Lalya’s favorite breakfast.

Layla watched on with sleepy eyes, occasionally giving them a rub, as Harry pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, eggs, vanilla, bananas, and Layla’s favorite part, chocolate chips. She had quietly stood up from her perch and made her way to the ingredients as Harry was setting up the coffee pot. Harry had turned just in time to see Layla pop a small handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. She froze her movements.

“Monkey… what did I say about eating the chocolate chips before they are in your pancakes?”

Layla slowly reached for a few more, putting her hand out to Harry, “We share?”

Harry couldn’t help but to let a chortle out as he bent down, meeting his girl as her little fingers gripped on the chips that she moved to pop them in Harry’s mouth. “Thank you monkey! Would you like to help me mix?”

Layla quickly nodded as Harry picked her up to place her on the counter, making sure she was far enough from the edge before he handed her the whisk and placed the mixing bowl in front of her. Harry measured out the ingredients before putting them in the bowl for his girl to start mixing. Harry had pretended that he didn’t notice her add more handfuls of chocolate chips into the mix.

Harry heard your heels on the hardwood upstairs and Layla quickly turned when she realized you were coming down the stairs. You took Harry’s breath away, as you always did when you walked into the room. He could never take his eyes off of you when you were in his line in vision. He took in how perfect the blush pink, knee length, a-line dress perfectly hugged your curves. The way the nude heels made your legs look miles long. How perfect your hair frames your face and the beaming smile as you saw your baby girl.

“Good morning, baby!” You walked to the island of your kitchen to give your daughter a kiss, noticing the taste of chocolate when you pulled your lips from hers. You hum and squint your eyes, causing Layla to let out a giggle as she covered her mouth. “That’s funny, I’m pretty sure Harry hasn’t made you any pancakes yet, so why are your kisses so yummy?”

Layla shrugged as if she had no idea what you were talking about, causing you to look at Harry who gave you the same exact shrug your daughter had just given you. You shake your head, resting your hand on Harry’s lower back as you pass to make your coffee.

Harry focused on the touch, wishing that your hand was pressed a little firmer and a little longer. He wished that after you kissed your perfect carbon copy, you would kiss him too and catch him red handed after sneaking a few chocolate chips. He had wished that he wouldn’t have to go home at the end of the day to his lonely apartment. He shook himself from his thoughts as he heard you thank him for making coffee.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I made enough for you to take some with you too.”

“God, you’re a saint!” You squeezed his shoulder as you walked to the stool that held your purse and work tote. “Starting as a full time doctor at the children’s hospital has been so draining. I’m pretty sure I have been drinking a whole pot by myself.”

“I know that they just hired you full time but you should take some time for yourself.”

Layla watched on as you and Harry talked about work, slowly stopping her mixing and reached her hand for the chocolate chip bag. Harry slapped his hand on the bag, moving it away without even looking in Layla’s direction as he continued to talk about you and your self care. You let out a chuckle at Layla’s shocked pout as you take your last sip of your coffee.

“Alright my love, I need to get going. Be good for Harry.” Layla reached up to wrap her arms around your neck and gave you another peck to your lips.

“I will mama, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby. Have a good day Harry, call me if you need anything.”

With that, you walked out the door and got in your car to go to work as Harry got back to making breakfast for his girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After eating breakfast and doing a team clean up, Harry took Layla to her room to pick out an outfit for the day. Layla stood there, wide eyed, watching Harry as he moved around her room, knowing exactly where everything was.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today, what do you think monkey? And after the park, we would go to the museum.”

Layla perked up, excited to go to two of her favorite places, hoping Harry would list her most favorite place when they have a day planned like this.

“And the cafe?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, now standing by his side while he was pulling socks out of her dresser.

“I don’t know monkey… do you think we should?” Harry was trying to hold back his smile, knowing how devastated she would be if he were to ever tell her no to her favorite cafe.

“Please, Harry? It’s my favorite.” Of course, she had to use those gorgeous eyes that she clearly got from her mother. Harry realized that he is so weak for these girls.

“Alright, I guess we must then.” Harry closed the drawer with his hip and Layla jumped and clapped before sprinting to her ensuite.

Layla quickly stripped out of her clothes and turned the knobs to the bath herself before using all her little strength to put the plug in the tub. Harry was smart enough one day, when Layla was feeling extra autonomous, to put stickers on where the perfect bath temperature would be, so that Layla would never burn herself or cry when it’s too cold.

Harry laid out her outfit for the day on the sink counter, grabbing a cup and kneeling before the tub to help wash her hair. He heard “I can do it” more times than he can count until it became time to rinse her hair, where she would wordlessly tip her head back and cover her eyes with her little hands.

They would mindlessly chat about what they were excited to see at the museum, what they would play at the park, until Layla randomly asked, “Do you have a daddy?”

Harry froze. He knew he obviously was going to answer but he was afraid of where the conversation would lead to. “I do.” He let the silence settle, not wanting to push Layla to talk due to his anxiety.

“Mama says I have a daddy out there somewhere but she loved me too much to share me.” Layla rubbed the water away from her face before looking at Harry with a gentle smile that began to turn to a soft pout.

“What’s the matter, monkey? You can talk to me.” Harry put the cup off to the side on the tub ledge before leaning in to listen to his sweet girl. Her little fingers began to trace the ink on his left arm since his arms were exposed after Harry pushed up his sleeves for bath time.

“I’m sad I don’t know anything about my daddy. Did he not love me?” Harry could see the tears form in Layla’s eyes and he could physically feel them form in his along with the lump in his throat.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know anything about your daddy but I do know that he is a very lucky man to have had you and mama.”

“Why is he gone?” Layla’s tears were freely falling and her little lip was trembling.

Harry grabbed Layla’s towel, picking her up and wrapping the towel around her so he could hold her to his chest as she nuzzled in his neck, exactly how she did when they first met.

“My sweet girl.” He was rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. Harry was curious as to what had brought this on but he didn’t want to press it. He did know that he was going to properly spoil his girl rotten today to make all her worries and heartache disappear.

Layla sniffled and wiped her runny nose on the towel before pushing away from Harry, resting her hands on his chest to look him in the face. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a good squeeze, making a smile spread to Harry’s cheeks, holding his girl closer.

“Will you Elsa braid my hair like mama does?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Probably won’t look as good as mama’s but I will try.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry must say, he’s pretty proud of his braid as he is putting Layla’s glittery sky blue helmet on her.

Harry had dressed her in an outfit he would probably wear. You always had a good sense of fashion and Layla was picking up on it as well, now that you have been giving her some more independence in choices.

Layla was dressed in dark purple corduroy flares with a cream sweater, speckled with pastel pinks, purples, and blues. Harry made sure that she wore comfortable but warm shoes, opting for some brown leather Chelsea boots. Harry grabbed her mustard yellow peacoat and threw a pair of gloves in his backpack, just in case, along with more socks, another sweater, extra hair ties and clips (Harry would occasionally steal her butterfly clips for his own hair). He made sure that their water bottles were filled and there were snacks and sanitary wipes in the front pocket of his backpack before throwing it on his shoulders.

Harry and Layla walked out the front door, her helping lock up the house, before walking to Harry’s bike. He picked up Layla to set her in the kid carrier attached to the back of Harry’s bike. You had been extremely nervous when Harry had first told you about the seat and wanting to take Layla for a ride. You offered to help him get a car, even if it was for your own sanity, but Layla loved riding on Harry’s bike way too much to ever say no.

Layla was patient and cooperative with Harry hooking her in, making sure she was safe and secure. Harry checked the straps and buckles three times before he gave Layla an approving nod while she returned his gesture, adding a giggle. Harry swung his leg over the seat, kicked up the kickstand and planted his feet on the pedals, making their way to the park. Layla enjoyed the scenery whizzing by while humming some song that Harry couldn’t make out, otherwise he would have joined her.

They made their way to the park, enjoying the rest of the morning hours there before they ventured to the cafe on the lake that was close to the park. Harry kept his bike locked up, opting to hold Layla’s hand as they walked to the cafe.

Harry had asked Layla why she likes this cafe so much many times and her answers had changed over the years. She used to tell Harry that it was because of “duckies”, then it turned to liking their hot cocoa. Today when he asked, his heart was warmed by her words and how wise she had become by the ripe age of three.

“Mama brings me here when we go to the park and you always bring me here. It’s our family spot.”

The waitress came over, beaming at Harry and Layla sitting across from each other, coloring on the placemat together.

“Oh my goodness, your daughter is so cute!”

Layla looked up at the waitress with a scowl before looking at Harry, causing him to laugh.

“I’m her nanny.”

The waitress looked taken back but quickly changed her features, looking Harry up and down and biting her lip. Layla continues to scowl at the waitress as Harry told her that they were ready to order.

Layla, being the smart girl she is, noticed how the waitress demeanor changed. How she was now only focused on Harry, began to twirl her hair and the constant lip biting. Harry had ordered his food and looked to Layla, who cleared her throat to get the waitress’s attention.

“My mama is prettier and she’s a doctor.”

Harry choked on his water at Layla’s childlike bluntness, causing a laugh to escape from his lips that he was trying to hold back. The waitress now was the one to wear the scowl as Layla’s own demeanor became confident with a hint of sass.

The waitress finally looked to Layla, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”

“It’s not nice to ignore me. I want hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and grilled cheese. Thank you.” Layla went back to coloring on the placemat, dismissing the waitress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had finished their lunch, the waitress returning minimally since she got scolded by the child. Layla had cleaned up her area, stacking all of her dirty dishes and utensils onto Harry’s plate before hopping down from her chair and reaching for Harry’s hand. They got back to Harry’s bike, having Layla grip onto Harry’s trouser leg as he was unlocking the bike to set it up properly to get Layla back in her seat.

On their way to the museum, she was playing with the keychain they had made together that was attached to the zipper of Harry’s backpack. They were chatting about what parts of the museum they were going to be looking forward to.

Harry had tried to make their time together as educational as possible. Her little brain was ever growing, becoming curious, and he tried to feed its thirst for knowledge. The museum was having an exhibit on extinct animals so he had made sure they made it in time for them to join.

Layla was a wonderful listener. Harry had to carry her, per her request, so that she could be close to the presenter as they walked around the exhibit so she wouldn't miss a word he was saying. Her eyes were glued to the speaker when he spoke, focused on the extinct animal figure on display when he would direct their focus. Layla had her fingers wrapped in Harry’s curls, twisting them gently in her little fingers as she sponged up the information. She would occasionally rest her head on his shoulder, nuzzle close, and Harry would rest his head on hers.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?”

Layla lazily shook her head no as her grip tightened on to Harry. Harry knew she would be fast asleep the moment he got her into the bike seat.

Layla slept all the way home, Harry careful to pull her out to not disturb her, holding her close as he got them inside. He carried her to her room, slowly peeling off her coat and boots before covering her in a crochet blanket; another gift made by his own mother for his girl. Layla curled onto her side, subconsciously grabbing for her stuffed monkey Harry got for her for her third birthday, and soft snores began to fall from her lips.

Harry kissed her cheek before turning on her white noise maker and leaving her door cracked. Harry made his way down stairs and plopped on the couch, falling asleep himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up covered in a soft sherpa blanket with the smell of garlic and tomato filling his nostrils. He let out a stretch before sitting up, seeing you standing at the stove and Layla at the table painting.

You were still in your blush dress from the morning but were barefoot and hair up in a messy bun with pieces framing your face. You were sipping from your red wine glass while pushing chicken and veggies in a skillet.

Layla perked up when she saw Harry staring at you. She had noticed this look he gave you before, the ever observant girl, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what the look could mean. She let Harry watch you a little longer until you had noticed he was awake when you turned around.

“Morning sunshine! Did this one wear you out today?” You were smiling at him as you continued to chop vegetables to put them in a salad, popping a chunk of cucumber in your mouth and handing Layla a chunk for herself, popping her piece in her mouth almost identical to you. Except, Harry was focused on the way your lips curled into a soft smile while you eloquently chewed and swallowed the piece of green veg before licking your lips, causing Harry to realize how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were.

“No, not at all. We had a great day, guess I just needed the rest.”

You nodded as you pulled three plates down from the cupboard to place on the table. You mumbled a “time to clean up” into Layla’s hair, that is now loose from its Elsa braid, as you kissed the top of her head. Layla gently put her paints away, Harry helping with the water cup and laying the painting on the counter to dry. Harry walked Layla to the bathroom so they could both wash their hands for dinner.

You had made up the plates and placed them on the table before Harry and Layla had walked out. Getting Layla a cup for water and another red wine glass, you poured Harry a glass and topped yours off, setting them on the table as the two walked out.

This had become a strange tradition for the three of you after you had noticed that Harry had lost weight and was concerned that he wasn’t eating properly at home by himself. He swore it wasn’t an issue but you had gone full mama bear mode on Harry and started to put a plate in front of him before he had an opportunity to tell you “no thank you”. You sat at the table with Layla and Harry, discussing their day.

“Mama, the lady at the cafe ignored me to stare at Harry. It wasn’t nice!”

You let out a giggle, thinking to yourself that you can’t blame the poor waitress for being enchanted by the magnetic being across from you. “You’re right baby, that’s not nice but hopefully Harry got a phone number out of it.”

You smiled across at Harry and he began to blush, opening his mouth to speak but Layla beat him to it.

“Why would Harry need her phone number? He can call you!”

As calm and collected as you were, Harry went into a slight panic; was he really that obvious when it came to his feelings for you?

“Again, you’re right baby. Harry can call me any time he wants.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and Layla’s scowl turned into a bright smile, going back to eating her dinner while Harry sat there frozen.

“I can call you?”

“Of course Harry, any time. Even if it’s just to check in on Layla.”

Harry deflated a little when you were clear about your intentions for a phone call just as a friendly gesture. Harry went back to eating, trying to disguise his disappointment.

Harry had helped you clean up while Layla went to get her pajamas on. There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you that you could both sense but you weren’t sure who would cut through it first, so you decided to bare the knife.

“Can I ask you a huge favor? You have every right to say no if you are busy or you just don’t want to.”

“Of course, can ask me anything.”

“Would you be able to watch Layla Friday night?”

“Yeah, no problem. Did you get called in to cover at the hospital?”

“Um, no, actually. I have a date.”

The knife you used to cut through the heavy air around you just went right into Harry’s heart. He couldn’t tell if you could notice but he could feel his blood run cold and his face go pale.

“No problem. I’ll just stay all day Friday. I should get going now though.”

“You don’t want to stay for the Great British Bake off? You always stay to watch after dinner.” You gave him a pout as you wiped your hands with a rag to dry them. Those eyes always work on him, no matter if they are from Layla or you, but his heart couldn’t bear to look at them tonight.

“I have stuff at home to catch up on and since I’ll be busy on Friday now, I should get it done.”

“Harry, you don’t have to watch Layla on Friday if you’re already busy. I can find a babysitter.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Harry quickly walked to the door, stopping when he saw Layla come down the stairs, trying to hold back his tears that he can feel burning.

“Good night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Layla reached her arms up to hug Harry, holding her extra tight and giving her a long kiss to her cheek before gently setting her feet on the floor and heading home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were getting ready for your date as Harry was making dinner for him and Layla. You had offered to cook something up but Harry told you that you should get ready so you wouldn’t be late.

You walked down in the tightest dress Harry had ever seen you in, making his body ache from desire and heartbreak. How desperately he wanted to pick you up for a date with you walking out in that curve hugging maroon dress and black stiletto heel, putting your earring in and fluffing your hair to where you want it to lay.

“So pretty mama!”

“Thank you baby!” You gave the top of her head a kiss before going to pick up your phone from the charger to place in your clutch. You heard the horn of a car outside as you were grabbing your black trench coat.

“Okay baby, be good. You might be sleeping when I get back but I’ll come tuck you in. Harry, call me if you need anything.” You kissed Layla again and made your way to the door, locking it behind you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Your date has been going extremely well. David was a handsome surgeon you had met during your ER coverage when someone came in with intensive internal bleeding, leading to an emergency surgery where David was on call. Laughs were being had, drinks were flowing easy, then your phone rang.

You saw that it was Harry so you quickly answered, “Harry, is everything alright?” You could hear Layla crying in the background, making your heart race.

“Layla has a fever and I can’t get her to calm down.”

You took a deep breath, “What’s her temperature? Did you give her some children’s Tylenol?”

“She is at 100 right now, gave her the Tylenol and put a cool cloth on her head. She’s just so inconsolable right now. She wants her mama, Y/N.”

“Can I talk to her?” Harry put the phone on speaker as he continued to rock Layla, adjusting the cloth on her forehead.

You whimpered when you heard her choked sobs, gently asking, “Baby, wants the matter?”

Layla’s cries had died down a minuscule amount but you could make out what she was saying, “I want my mama!” Your heart was breaking and you looked to David, who at this point finished his wine and looked extremely annoyed.

“It’s okay baby, I’ll be home soon, okay? I’ll be right there.” Layla settled a little more and Harry ended the call with a “see you soon”.

David paid for the bill as you began to apologize and get your stuff together. David began to walk ahead of you before saying his cold goodbye at the door. “I don’t have time to drive you home, could you catch an Uber or something?”

You scoffed at him before rolling your eyes, “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for dinner but don’t expect a call from me.” You pulled out your phone as David walked away so that you could request an Uber.

You had rushed into your house, which was now eerily quiet for having a sick baby girl on your hands. You walked into the house further and found Harry laying on the couch topless with Layla laying on his chest, also topless and a wet towel between them. Harry had his fingers combing through Layla’s hair as they were watching Coco.

Layla lifted her head when she heard your heels on the hardwood, looking at you and tears began to brim her eyes.

“Hi my baby, you’re not feeling good, hm?” You knelt down by the couch as you stripped off your coat and Layla was reaching for you to hold her. You held her close, feeling the warmth radiating off of her but it wasn’t a concerning temperature at this point.

Harry sat up, folding the wet towel before taking it to the bathroom, walking away and coming back still topless. Your eyes explored his torso, his high waisted trousers cover up until under his butterfly. You continued to hold and rock your little one, who was now nuzzling into your neck with her breathing slowing. Your eyes finally finished their exploring of Harry’s dips and valleys when you met his eyes, mouthing a “thank you” for taking care of your daughter.

You stood up and kicked off your heels before climbing the stairs to tuck Layla in. You placed her in your bed so that you could watch her overnight. You walked back down the stairs after leaving your door cracked and promptly went to the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of Syrah, popping out the cork and pouring two hefty glasses before walking to the couch where Harry now sat with his shirt on. To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

Harry took the glass and looked at how full it was before giving you a look with a cocked brow and smirk. “Not good, huh?”

You ran your hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “It was fine until you called.” Harry instantly felt guilty for calling you on your date until you spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell him I had Layla, he had told me before the date that he never wanted children. I guess that should have been a major red flag. I’ve just been so alone and desperate that I took the first thing that jumped on me.” You took a huge swig of your wine before letting out a sigh. “I probably should have asked you if you needed a ride home before I started guzzling down my feelings.”

Harry smiled at you, “It’s fine. I can get an Uber.”

You almost spilt your wine when you sat up with a mouthful, quickly swallowing it. “Mm! He didn’t even drive me home! He made me get a fucking Uber!”

“What an asshole!”

“I know! Ugh, I should just give up while I’m ahead. I’ve got the most perfect daughter, I have a great job, although exhausting. I own a house and have a happy and healthy life… I guess I just get-“

“Lonely?” Harry thought that you were preaching to the choir at this point because he felt the same exact way; he had your daughter to care for, an amazing job, he is happy and healthy because you care for him.

You let out another sigh and closed your eyes, “Yes, so lonely. I have been doing this all on my own and it can be too much. I just want someone to hold me, tell me it will be okay, that I am doing a good job.”

“You’re doing an amazing job,Y/N.”

You slowly open your eyes and look to Harry who has been watching you this whole time. You let out another sigh because you can feel him pull you in but you don’t want anything to happen, not right now anyway, not like this.

As if your daughter wasn’t already your saving grace, she cried out for you right when you felt the pull to Harry become too strong. You put your wine glass down and go to your baby.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in the guest room if you don’t feel like making your way home this late. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry.”

And with that, you walked up the stairs to be with your baby and Harry called an Uber home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had walked in, eager to start the day with Layla, thinking about maybe baking something and going to the art museum. When he walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you in a long t-shirt, bed head and bare legs with Layla on the counter eating sliced strawberries.

“Oh shit, Harry!”

“Mama! No swear!”

“Oop, sorry baby. Harry, I must have forgot to tell you that I had today off.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I can head home so you can spend the day with Layla.”

“Or you can stay…” you were looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would agree to spend the day with you and Layla. “We would love for you to stay.”

“Yeah Harry! Please?”

The way that both of you are now giving him the eyes, he’s lucky he didn’t turn into a puddle on the floor. Harry began to peel his jacket and boots off, exposing his layered red sweater over a cream button up to match his brown and cream plaid pants, walking over to the island for Layla to pop a strawberry in his mouth. You smiled up at him as he began to help you prep the breakfast to build your own waffles.

Harry helped Layla get ready for the day, getting her in some black fleece leggings, a chambray shirt with some brown leather combat boots. Layla said she wanted mama to do her hair and that Harry shouldn’t take it personally.

Layla sprinted into your ensuite where you were finishing your simple makeup and loose curls, wearing high waisted dark skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulder sweater. You were still barefoot at this point and Harry thought that he could get used to this.

You made sure you unplugged your curling wand and moved it away from the sink so that you could sit Layla on it to do her hair. She already had white bows in her hand for you to put in her hair. You quickly did a crown braid to keep her hair out of her face and finished it off with a top knot, throwing a bow at the base of the bun. You dashed on your perfume, doing the same to Layla per her request and then threw some chapstick on the both of you before picking up Layla to place on your hip.

You looked up to Harry and asked him if he was ready to go. He swallowed that dry mouth away before giving you a nod.

You got Layla settled in her car seat, tucking your purse under her feet and gave her a kiss before you climbed into the driver's seat. Harry got comfortable in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror in the visor to look back at Layla who was ‘reading’ a book.

You looked over to Harry who was smiling in the mirror, causing you to smile before asking if everyone was ready. You stopped by a coffee shop drive through where you got Layla her hot cocoa, yourself a flat white, and Harry a black coffee. The drive to the art museum was a little ways so you let Layla pick the music for the car. You hummed along to the Disney songs until Layla was begging for you and Harry to sing, causing you both to giggle but sing along.

Harry took over when it came to the art museum, educating Layla on artists and types of paints and materials used. You followed behind letting them having their time together, warming to see Harry adore your daughter and her being excited to learn. You took a few pictures of the two of them and were reviewing them when Layla was hyper fixated on Monet’s “Sunflowers” painting. You froze at a picture of Harry knelt down with Layla between his legs and his hand on her tummy. She was pointing to a painting on the wall while Harry was looking at the camera with a beaming smile, the next one was the same pose with a softer smile and he was looking behind the camera, looking at you.

You looked up to see Layla running to you with arms open and Harry jogged close behind. Layla was talking a mile a minute about the sunflower painting as you knelt down to pick her up. You kept looking at Harry who was giggling at Layla’s gabbing and excitement while you could not focus on anything other than the way Harry’s dimples were popping and his eyes were crinkling. You shook yourself from the trance as you helped Layla get her jacket from the museum coat closet.

You decided to go out of the way to go to the cafe by the park. This would be the first time all three of you went together and you knew Layla would be excited when she saw the car pull into the parking lot.

You were right; she squealed and tried to get herself out of her car seat but Harry had beat her to it. She was in awe of the trees surrounding the lake and the cafe, all in their full bloom of fall colors. The leaves were scattered beautifully along the parking lot, leaves floating in the lake. The cafe was decorated in fall decor, preparing for the holiday season.

You requested a table by the widows facing the lake and sat Layla closest to the window so she could enjoy the view. She murmured how it looked like a painting at the museum and what paints were used in the art she was thinking of. You smiled at her before looking at Harry who was already looking at you.

Layla started to list all the colors she sees outside as the waitress approached, the same one that had eyes for Harry.

“Well, hello again.” She again was focused only on Harry, ignoring your’s and Layla’s presence. Harry had to laugh because the face you were making at that moment was identical to the one Layla had made the first time.

“I’ll let the ladies order first.” Harry nodded at you before you looked up at the waitress, giving her a sickly sweet smile. Her eyes widened when she looked at you, truly shocked by your beauty.

“Layla baby, you first.” Layla never looked away from outside, stating that she would like “hot cocoa with extra whip cream and a grilled cheese, please.” You had asked if she could get a side of veg along with her meal as you ordered a turkey club with a side salad and a cup of soup to share with Layla.

Harry had ordered his turkey burger with side salad before the waitress parted to bring a fresh pitcher of water. Layla had finally turned her attention back to you and Harry, going over her favorite parts of the museum throughout the meal. You're pretty sure she had listed everything she saw.

You made your way home, Layla falling asleep in the car. Harry had carried her up to her bed as you gathered all the dirty laundry to start a load. You sat at the table with your laptop, paying bills when Harry made his way down to you at the kitchen table. Harry let out a yawn and you pointed to the coffee maker.

“Fresh pot.” You smiled and lifted your mug to ‘cheers’ him. Harry sat across from you while you finished up on your computer and you suggested that you watch a movie or some garbage tv.

You got about halfway through the movie before you heard little feet pattering on the hardwood upstairs. Before you know it, Layla has crawled into your lap, laying her head on your shoulder while she looks at Harry with a sleeping smile.

“Good morning beautiful, sleep well?” She nodded at Harry as she nuzzled closer to you. You rubbed her back and patted her bum as you thought about what to do for dinner.

“I was thinking since we have already been bad all day, we should order some pizza.” Layla perked up at that before squeezing you tighter. You giggled as you pulled out your phone, hitting the speed dial to your favorite place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With full bellies and a sleepy Layla, you get the two of you ready for bed as Harry puts away the leftovers and throws the boxes away.

You walk down with a clean face, hair up, and a pair of green cotton plaid pajama pants and a white oversized T-shirt. Harry walked back in from the recycling outside to you holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. You raised your eyebrows and giggled as Harry walked over to you. You popped open the pint and handed a spoon to Harry.

“Layla would be heartbroken if she saw you sharing with me and not her.” He smiled before popping the spoon in his mouth, letting the cream melt over his tongue.

You shrug, licking your spoon, “I don’t share my ice cream with just any one Harry.” You take another spoonful and look at Harry as you take your bite.

Harry could feel his heart racing, his mouth drying, his hands are sweaty. He can feel the word vomit in the back of his throat make its way to the tip of his tongue. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course Harry, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You stood up straight when you saw that Harry had adjusted his own posture. He was avoiding your gaze now, looking to the spoon in his hand he was twirling while he tried to find his voice. You didn’t pressure him, you both just stood in silence.

“I’m very lucky to have had you walk into my classroom. I instantly fell in love with your daughter and I instantly fell in love with you too.” He was still avoiding your gaze but if he were to look up, he would see that your eyes have glossed and your lip is trembling, the way Layla’s does when she is trying to hold back her tears.

“I’ve known for an embarrassingly long time how I have truly felt about you but what we have is so good and I couldn’t bear to not have Layla in my life, couldn’t bear to lose you. I- Today was amazing and made me realize that it would kill me if I don’t tell you that I am completely and utterly, madly in love with you.”

Harry decided that it’s now or never to look at you, and you looked so beautiful in this moment as you do every time Harry looks at you. You may be in oversized and stained pajamas, your cheeks may be wet and flush and your lips bruised and trembling, but you are as beautiful as you are every day that Harry is graced with your presence.

You now try to find your words but you choke out a sob. Harry quickly wraps you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. You finally catch your breath and look up to him.

“I always knew there was something there but I was too scared to find out.”

Harry wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his palms. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You gave him the nod he was wishing for and he slowly leaned in as he pulled you closer. He was gentle in his movements, not wanting to scare you away from this moment. He planted his lips softly against yours, slowly moving so that he could incase your lower lip between his, softly sucking it between his lips. He moved closer so that your bodies were pressed together and he lowered his right hand from your cheek to your waist and his left hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into the hair pulled up into the bun on top of your head. He gently let his tongue graze your bottom lip before he pulled you closer and licked again with more fervor.

Your mouth opened more to let him in, just as you were opening yourself more to let him into your heart. Your hands reached out to grip at the sweater on his chest as you finally let go and let your tongue meet his. This move gives Harry the confidence and reassurance he needs as he fully licks into you to massage your tongue with his as he presses his hips to yours, pushing your lower back to the counter.

He pulls away breathless as he lays his forehead on yours, kissing your nose and rubbing the back of your head with his thumb. He goes back in to kiss you more, lifting you by your thighs to wrap around him. He carefully carries you to your room, gently laying you down on the bed as he starts to kiss down your neck, his hands massaging your thighs that are still wrapped around him. Harry pulls his sweater over his head and before you get the chance to admire him, his lips are pressed to yours. His fingers graze the waistband of your bottoms and he starts to pull them down, his soft and warm palms caressing the bare flesh of your thighs.

Harry continues to kiss the skin of your neck as you swallow down the lump that is forming in the base of your throat as you think about the next morning. “Harry, what if this changes everything?”

“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

You let out a sigh of relief as the tears begin to form that you try to blink away. Harry’s face is again level with yours, kissing your cheek. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?”

Your lip trembles as you tell him yes, never feeling loved before this moment. Harry gently kissed you and he reached for the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, exposing your sports bra and he leaned on his hunches to finish pulling your bottoms off. Harry took his time, kissing every inch of you. Your stretch marks from carrying Layla, your stubbly thighs because you didn’t have time to shave your legs fully this morning, your freckles and scars. Harry truly loved every inch of you, and you could feel it.

“Can I take these off, love?” Harry’s fingers were tucked into your cotton panties when you gave him a nod. You were nervous because it had been longer than you would like to admit since you have been intimate with someone. Harry slowly peeled them down your legs, kissing a trail behind.

“Harry… it’s been a long time…”

“It’s okay, I’ll take my time with you.” He kissed your ankle as he dropped your panties to the side of the bed. “Can I start by touching you?” You nod again and you lean up to pull off your sports bra and adjust the pillow behind your head. Harry still sat on his knees between your legs to admire you. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you.”

You give him a shy smile before leaning to your side table, appreciating him for being so kind and gentle. You hand him the bottle and he pops the cap open, spreading some along his fingers as well as dripping some on your center. He placed the bottle by his leg, just in case he doesn’t have enough.

“Talk to me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much or not enough. Tell me what you need.”

“I will.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you, hovering over you as he started to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds. You gasp at the coldness but quickly relax when you feel Harry’s fingers explore you more; spreading you open, pinching a lip or your clit between his fingers. He gave you one last lick into your mouth before leaning back again.

You opened your thighs more to accommodate him as he watched his own fingers explore you. You watched his brow furrow and he occasionally licked his lip. Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger slowly dip in you.

“This okay?”

“Yes.” Your hips flex up involuntarily to meet Harry’s finger that he is slowly dipping and pulling out of you. His thumb slowly started rolling over your clit and you let out your first moan. It was soft, but present enough for Harry to speed up his movements a little bit, earning a louder moan from you.

“You like that baby?” Harry slowly pulled out his middle finger so that he could slide his middle and ring finger in together, giving you the stretch to need. When he got to the base of his fingers, your back arched and Harry began his come hither motion on your walls, reaching further to hit the soft sponge that you needed him to find.

“Harry, right there!” He added a little more pressure to your gspot before returning to his massaging gesture, using his other hand to figure eight your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the brink of the tip over but you needed something, you just weren’t sure what it was but Harry seemed to know.

He leaned down to kiss you fully again, the pressure of his body on you caused his thumb to add more pressure to your bud and his fingers to plunge a little deeper, causing the rush to flow over you and the tingles to start in your fingers and toes. You moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss you to keep you quiet but you pulled away to catch a breath, panting into his shoulder as he kissed your neck.

Harry began to slow his movements, pulling his hands away to massage at your thighs as he continued to kiss your neck down to your chest. You could feel him straining in his trousers on your core as he laid on you.

“Was that okay?” He continued to kiss your chest, licking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue across it. You rolled your hips into him, feeling the vibrations from his moan into the flesh of your breast.

“It was great, thank you.” Your hand was combing through his hair as he moved to your right breast.

“Can I make love to you?” He looked up at you, watching your soft, blissed out face turn into a gentle smile.

“I would love to make love with you, Harry.” He leaned up again to kiss you before standing to pull off his trousers. He reached for the nightstand to grab a condom, putting it on and adding some extra lube before setting the bottle aside.

“Let me know if you need me to stop or anything.” He kissed your forehead, your closed eyes, each cheek, then your nose before landing on your lips. He lined himself up to your core, all while kissing you, before gently pushing into you with a role of his hips.

With each roll and deeper kiss, he sunk deeper into you. You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch a breath, feeling dizzy from being overwhelmed emotionally and physically. Harry continued to slowly thrust into you, barely pulling out before he would roll again. He lifted a knee to lay flush with your thigh, opening you more which caused Harry to pull out more than he intended to push back into you.

You let out a moan and your head tipped back after that particular thrust, causing Harry to remove his face from your neck to look at you and repeat the same motion, over and over again. He could feel how wet you were getting, almost too wet that he was slipping out of you more, causing his thrust to be sloppy and deeper.

He lifted the thigh he had pushed up with his knee up to his shoulder, hovering over you more and looking right down at you. You look up to see Harry’s curls falling over his face, his face and chest flush, your hand moved up to move his hair so you can see him in all his beauty. You leaned up to kiss him, creating a new angle that had you both moaning.

Harry could feel himself coming undone, knowing that he had to get you there first. He let his hand travel to wear your bodies met, rolling your bud under his thumb once again. You sat up on your elbows to keep the angle you both loved as well as to stay close to Harry.

“I’m so close, don’t stop Harry.”

He leaned in to kiss you, mumbling “I love you” against your lips between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N.”

At that confession, your arms gave out so Harry quickly gripped you close with his free arm and rolled his hips against you until he moaned out your name and let his orgasm flood over him. He gently laid you both down, resting his head on your chest as you both embraced and caught your breath.

Harry felt your fingers stop moving in his hair and little snores escape your lips. Harry has seen that sleepy pout on your daughter more times than he could count but seeing it on you has made him the happiest man alive. Harry maneuvers himself so that you are both lying comfortably and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wake up to find that Harry is not in bed, but all the clothes from last night are now in the hamper and there is a set of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. You can hear little giggles and a few “oops” from the kitchen. You get dressed and make your way down stairs.

Layla turns her head to you when you walk in, beaming with a “morning mama!” Leaning up to give you a kiss.

“Are you stealing chocolate chips again? Some extra sweet kisses this morning!”

Layla giggles as you press your hand a little firmer and longer on Harry’s lower back as you go for the coffee pot. You lean up to give Harry a kiss, noticing that he has been dipping into the chocolate too. Harry quickly went back in for another kiss, sweeter than the chocolate that lingers. You pull away slowly looking into Harry’s sleepy green eyes and wish him a good morning.

“Morning love, banana pancakes?”

“I’d love some.”

#stellarboystyles3years #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

Note

Okay! I had this idea brewing in my mind (but that’s the most my mind is capable of I’ll leave the writing to the professionals). So Carly or Shana (you can decide) are planning on going away for a vacation with their partner but they’re sceptical of leaving the children alone. So they ask Chris if him and reader (who is Chris’ girlfriend and super close to his family) to babysit the kids over the weekend and they accept. Since Chris is busy with ASP reader mostly entertains the kids, helps them with homework and stuff and Chris sees the way she is with them and imagines their future! Please make it fluffy 🥺❤️❤️

A Tale Of Nephews And Princesses - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - @tonystankschild surprise! i got my ask back somehow so i can properly post this!! thank you so much for this lovely ask, I had so much fun writing it! I chose Carly pretty randomly. her children’s names are online, so that was mostly why lol. in my head i imagined it so Miles is the firstborn, then Stella then Ethan but it doesn’t really matter. they’re all pretty small in the fic so like, the oldest is 10 years old? idk, i didn’t really wana do research because i wanted to respect their privacy lol, so i took creative liberty over most of it. also you calling me a professional?🥺 pls omg i am so far from it but tysm!! I hope you enjoy it!!<3

Word Count: 3k (!!! y’all are getting fed hehe)

Warnings: none! just fluffy fluff :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey babe?" Chris asked, coming into the living room. His hand was on the telephone, so whoever's on the other side was still on the call.

"Yeah?" you replied from your place on the couch.

"Is it okay if Carly's kids come sleep at ours next weekend? It's Carly's anniversary so they wanna go on a weekend away."

"Yeah, sure," you smiled, "watching them is gonna be no problem. Tell her I said congrats!"

"I will," he smiled. "And well, I have some stuff for A Starting Point I gotta do that weekend. I told you about the interview and –"

"It's okay, I don't mind watching them," you smiled and cut him off. "I'll have someone to keep ne company while you're busy."

"You're the best," he blew you a kiss and you smiled as he got back on the phone with his sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're sure it's okay?" Carly asked, ushering her kids through the door of your and Chris' house.

"Yes, we're sure," you smiled at her. "It's no problem at all."

"Besides, even if we weren't, I don't think you'd have any other options right now," Chris smiled at his sister as well. "Go, have fun, we'll all be here when you come back. If anything, you should worry about them not wanting to leave," he smirked.

"Sure," she drawled out with a smile. "Well, if you need anything at all just call me," she told the both of you.

"It's gonna be fine," you laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling. "I could understand why you'd be worried if you left them with this five-year-old," you nudged Chris with your elbow and he rolled his eyes, "but I'm here and I assure you we're gonna have a lot of fun, isn't that right kids?" you smiled at Chris' nephews and niece, who were still standing there with their bags, waiting to say goodbye to their mom.

"Alright," she laughed. "Well, have fun kids! Bye!" she hugged each one of them and went back to her car, where her husband was waiting to go on a weekend away. It was their anniversary, so you and Chris volunteered to watch Miles, Stella and Ethan while they were away for a couple of days.

Before you managed to say anything, you and Chris were bombarded with questions – "Uncle Chris, can we play Mario Kart?" "No! Can we have a princess tea party?" "Can you read me a story?" "Can we eat cookies?" "Where's Dodger?" "Can we play with the cap shield?"

Chris looked at you and you return his amused look with one of your own. "Okay," you said, effectively silencing them as they looked up at you with wide eyes. "We can do all of these things later, but for now we should put your bags up. Dodger's hiding, so maybe after we find him, we can play with him, alright? But bags first," you smiled at them as they immediately sprinted upstairs with their bags, as best as they could carry them.

"Be careful!" you yelled after them and laughed.

"Is Dodger hiding?" Chris frowned at you.

"Of course not. I got him out in the yard before they arrived so he wouldn't tackle them to the ground," you grinned.

"What would I do without you?" he smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

"My guess? Have more sweaters," you chuckled. "But hey, that's why I'm here!" you showed off the sweater you were currently wearing, which was indeed his, making him laugh.

"C'mon, let's go make sure they're not breaking anything," you pecked his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris was the first one to go outside and play with them and Dodger, while you hung back for a while, cutting up some fruit and getting some juice boxes before stepping outside as well.

"You guys hungry?" you smiled at them when you got out, Dodger immediately running to you and the kids right behind him.

"Yes!" they yelled in unison as you put the plate down on the table before sitting down next to them and Chris.

"Oh, by the way it's 4:15, so you should probably go get ready," you told him. He had an interview for ASP in about 20 minutes, and as much as you'd love for him to stay outside with you, you knew he had to go back inside to his home office.

"Thanks honey," he smiled softly before patting Miles' head and scratching Dodger's ear. "Alright kids, be good while I'm working," he winked at them before disappearing inside.

"Princess auntie?" Stella asked once she finished eating. Your heart melted in your chest at the sound of it, not the princess part of course, since Stella was currently obsessed with Disney and had the habit of calling everyone princes and princesses. No, it was the auntie that tugged at your heartstrings.

You weren't officially a part of the Evans family, well, not yet, you hoped. But their tendency to embrace you as one of their own never failed to make you smile, because there's nothing you'd want to be more.

"Yes, princess Stella?" you smiled at her.

"Can we have a tea party now?"

You chuckled at her request. "Well, I think there's nothing better for a tea party than…" you paused for suspense, "cookies!" at the sound of that all three of them cheered and you laughed. "But you all have to come and help me make them!"

The happy bunch followed you to the kitchen and you let Dodger into the living room on your way so he could rest a little.

"Okay, first of all we all need to wash our hands," you instructed. After a few minutes and some stray drops of water later, you were ready to go.

"Okay, Miles, you can help me measure everything, and Stella can pour it in, and Ethan's gonna stir, sounds good?"

Surprisingly, the kids went with your suggestion without any argument, and you started making the batter.

"Ethan, mix slower, will you?" you contained your laughter once a bit of batter flew out of the bowl and onto Miles' face. "Are you okay Miles?"

You turned to the kid in question to wipe the batter from his face, but you found he already took it on his finger and tasted it. "It's really good," he nodded, and you and you couldn't contain your giggle now.

"I'm glad, but let's try not to eat the cookies until they're ready," you raised your eyebrows at him and he nodded in understanding, although a grin was still on his face so you weren't sure how much he was going to stick to that.

The rest went pretty smoothly, and just as you were dividing your batter and putting the cookies in the baking pan Chris walked in, having just finished his interview.

"Ooooo, what are you guys making?" he smiled.

"Cookies!" Ethan yelled.

"For the tea party!" Stella added.

"But I don't wike tea parties," Miles sulked.

"You don’t have to be in the tea party to eat the cookies," you calmed him down before they'd start fighting.

"Now come on, let's finish up these cookies and then we can go play."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent the rest of the afternoon playing board games, the smell of the cookies filling the air as the kids got more and more impatient to have them. Eventually, it was time to take them out, and you tried to slip away unnoticed but unfortunately they noticed and followed you to the kitchen.

"I'm taking out the cookies, but just remember they're very hot and we can't eat them yet, okay?"

You heard a chorus of okays before you opened the oven, the pleasant smell and warmth coming at you in a wave. You grinned and took the cookies out of the oven, warning the kids to stay away from it while you put them on the counter and went to shut off the oven.

After a few minutes you touched the cookies tentatively, and found they were cool enough to give to the kids to taste. They all took a bite and immediately smiled.

"Well? Did we succeed?" you asked with a smile, taking a cookie yourself.

"Yeah!" they all nodded, and ran to the living room, where Chris was still sitting. "Uncle Chris, you have to taste our cookies!" you heard Stella say and smiled, knowing they'd all walk in here in a couple of seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You all ate dinner together, cookies for dessert obviously, and before long it was bedtime. Chris needed to get some more work done, so you were the one to put them to bed. The boys were sleeping in the same room and Stella in another one, but all four of you were currently snuggled together in the boys' room, as you read them all a story.

Stella was on one side of you, her eyelids slightly drooping already. Miles and Ethan were on the other side, and you were half sure Ethan was already asleep. Dodger was at the foot of the bed, seemingly listening as well. You were just reading the last page when Chris walked in, a grin stretching on his face at the sight in front of him.

You smiled back and softly finished the rest of the story, closing the book and putting it down on the bedside table. Carefully getting up, you kissed Miles and Ethan's foreheads goodnight before taking a sleepy Stella into your arms, smiling at Chris on your way out of the room as you carried her to her bed, laying her down and tucking her blanket around her.

"Goodnight princess auntie," she mumbled.

"Goodnight princess Stella," you whispered back and smiled, gently tucking her hair away from her face before getting up. Seeing Chris waiting for you at the doorway, you put your finger to your mouth signaling him to be quiet until you softly shut the door nearly all the way behind you, leaving a small crack so it wouldn't be completely dark and so you could hear her if she needed anything.

"Did you get your work done?" you whispered as you wrapped your arms around Chris' neck.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "You're really good with them, you know that?" he smiled, affection dancing in his eyes.

"They're great kids," you smiled back, pecking his lips softly before drawing away. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you awoke to the sound of whispers and padding of feet coming from the hallway. You smiled to yourself before getting away from Chris, whose arms were wrapped tightly around your torso. He stirred when you sat up, mumbling a low "Where are you going?"

"They're awake, but try and get some more sleep, you have a long day today," you whispered back, kissing his cheek before getting out of bed and out of the room, shutting the door behind you.

When they noticed you got up they stopped talking and you smiled at them. "C'mon, let's go downstairs so we won't wake uncle Chris," you whispered.

When you were down you asked them in a low voice, "did you brush your teeth? What do you want for breakfast?"

After they all brushed their teeth, and so did you, you all gathered in the kitchen to make breakfast. You made them some chocolate milk and they drank it while you made something to eat, laying it out of the table and sitting down to eat with them, but not before you put some food aside for Chris.

"What do you wanna do today, huh?" you asked, taking a sip from your mug.

"I have homework," Miles admitted shyly. "Mommy said I was supposed to do them yesterday, but I forgot."

"That's alright, you can do them right now," you ruffled his hair affectionately.

After you were done with breakfast, Miles sat down to do his homework and Stella and Ethan helped you with the dishes. Well, they just handed you the dishes, which you then washed and put in their place, but it kept them occupied long enough.

You were nearly done with the dishes when you felt a tug on the hem of your shirt. "Can you help me?" Miles looked up at you.

"Of course," you smiled. "Stella and Ethan, wait a sec alright? And be careful!"

You walked back to the kitchen table with him, where he showed you the exercise he was struggling with. Just as you were helping him solve it, Chris walked into the kitchen. Thankfully, fully dressed in his everyday clothes, you eye rolled inwardly at your boyfriend's sleeping garments, or lack thereof.

"Hey guys! Did you have breakfast already?" he asked, going to hug Stella and Ethan.

"I left you some," you gestured at the plate on the counter with a smile.

"Thank you," he picked it up and started eating. "What'cha doing there bud?" he asked Miles.

"My homework," he said with a shy grin. "But I'm almost done!"

"Yeah," you smiled. You explained it for him, all the while ignoring Chris' eyes on you. You felt his gaze and smiled, not giving it any attention and helping Miles solve the problem.

"All done!" you high fived him and he cheered.

"Good job!" Chris smiled at the both of you. "I have to do some work, but after I'm done we can go play some more with Dodge, how about that?"

"Yay!" they cheered. He hugged them all and retreated into his office once more. You knew how much he hated not being able to be with them all day while they're here, but he cared about this project a lot, so you were going to make sure everyone had a great time regardless.

"Okay, how about…" you paused to think, "we build a blanket fort! As a surprise for uncle Chris," you smiled at their excited reaction. "But shhh! We have to be very quiet so he won't hear us, because it's a surprise!" knowing Chris needed his focus, you were glad when they nodded their heads. Ethan out a finger to his lips and shushed his siblings, which you giggled at.

"After you," you gestured for them to start walking towards the living room. "The blanket fort isn't going to build itself!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were quiet, whispering to each other as you draped the blankets you had brought from their bedrooms. The only loud sounds were their laughs, which you really couldn't bring yourself to get mad about.

After nearly an hour, the blanket fort was complete. You all cuddled inside, the kids bringing their dolls as well.

"Can we watch a princess movie?" Stella asked once you had suggested they watch a movie.

"No! I don't wike it!" Miles immediately objected.

"Yeah, no princess!" Ethan joined his brother.

"Okay, how about… Peter Pan?" you asked them. Then, you leaned closer to Stella and whispered in her ear, "Tinkerbell's a fairy! That's almost as good as a princess, right?"

She contemplated it for a moment before nodding her head. You kissed the top of her head and put on the movie. You all settle down, and you cuddled Stella close to you, smiling as Ethan and Miles soon joined.

That was how Chris found you, about an hour later, and his heart swelled in his chest at the sight. His niece and nephews all cuddled up with you, watching a Disney movie. He thought about the ring, safely stowed away deep in his bedside drawer, and smiled softly.

With any luck, soon these might be your own kids you'll cuddle with. The thought filled him with giddiness, but also nerves. He didn't really think you'd say no, but hell – you can never know with these things. All he knew was that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and he was going to ask you if you wanted the same. Soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the day finally arrived, and Carly and her husband were coming to pick up the kids.

"You got everything?" you asked them. They all nodded their heads. "Great! Well, your mom's gonna be here in a few, so how about –"

"But I don't wanna go!" Miles complained.

"Yeah, I wanna stay here!" Ethan exclaimed.

"Princess auntie, pretty please can we stay?" Stella looked up at you.

"I'm sorry guys," you smiled, "But you have school tomorrow. Besides, your mom missed you very much, and I'm sure you missed her too. Don't you miss mommy and daddy?"

"Yes," they admitted.

"C'mon, don't be sad," you grinned at them, "you can always come visit us."

At that moment Dodger decided it was a good time to greet them goodbye, jumping up and trying to lick them. They giggled, and you and Chris exchanged a fond glance over their heads. You heard the car pulling up outside, so you caught onto Dodger and made him stop before Chris opened your door, knowing Carly would be coming to get them.

"Mommy!" they all yelled.

"Hey babies!" she greeted them and pulled them all into a big hug.

Dodger tried to escape your hold and join them, but you caught him before he could tackle them. "Don't be jealous," you playfully chastised him and scratched him behind his ear.

"Hello Dodger," Carly smiled and came to pet him as well. "Okay kids, say goodbye, daddy's waiting for us in the car."

"Bye bye!" said and hugged both you and Chris tightly.

"Bye!" you waved at them once they got out, closing the door gently behind them.

Chris came to wrap his arms around you. "You're amazing."

"So are you," you smiled into his neck.

"No, I'm serious. You were amazing with them," he smiled timidly. "And well, in the future, I…" he trailed off.

"Awwww, you were totally thinking about what if they were our kids, weren't you?" you grinned. "That's so cute!" you teased him.

"Whatever," his cheeks tinted slightly. "I guess you don't wanna hear what I think."

"No, I do!" you objected with a smile.

"I think," he started, "that you're gonna be the best mom ever someday. And I am so lucky to have you."

"And you're gonna be the best dad," you smiled before leaning it to kiss him.

When you broke apart, you smiled. You knew how true your words were, and you couldn't wait until that turned into a reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

what’d you think??🥰

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#chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine

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akitohsworld · 3 years

Text

Disclaimer: I wrote this some time ago, when I was very sleepy. How they could've met before the exchange? I love stupid references don't@ me lol

Warning: slight NSFW at the end (under the cut)

Put a spell on me |Solomon X m!Reader

Saying Solomon was feeling under the weather was an understatement. He felt like absolute shit. His stomach was recoiling, giving him the impression he had to vomit, but couldn't. Resulting in him being wobbly on his feet. Although, he was currently trying to sober up. The lack of water caused his head to hurt, while he walked alongside the river to go back to his apartment. He was in no shape to teleport, not with the sense of orientation he had right now.

A frustrated groan escaped him as he grabbed onto the metal fence beside the river, letting gravity take over as he slouched down onto the floor.

It was a beautiful night, you could see the starry sky reflecting in the river. The silence only being disturbed by some outlandish music in the distance. Somewhere, there was another party raving besides the witches sabbath he had successfully escaped.

He knew he shouldn't have accepted that many drinks from the witches. But it had been a successful year, he was only going back to the Devildom next week... And, probably, going to meet that other exchange student by then.

"Hey fam, you okay?" A voice slurred above him, blocking the blinding streetlights before him.

"Yeah yeah, thank you for your concern-," Solomon looked up surprised. He thought he was the only one here-

"Here ," a handsome guy, probably not a sorcerer, held out a bottle of water to him, grinning friendly. "You gotta stay hydrated when drunk."

"Uhm.. thanks?" Solomon chuckled. "That's nice, but I hear I shouldn't accept drinks from kind strangers"

Their hair reflected in the warm light, along with unfocused eyes glistening in the dark, when he shot Solomon a kind smile.

Solomon suspected he was from where the music was coming from. Another rave or party or whatever, since he was wearing flashy attire and sweat was glistening on his smooth skin.

From dancing, maybe? It wasn't that warm. Rather fresh, if Solomon would say so himself.

"Hmmm", the stranger put a hand on his chin. "I guess, I'm feelin' a biiiiit brave tonight haha. Here, I'll take a sip from it first."

He chucked down a bit of water. "There."

Solomon just stared at him for a solid second. Maybe, probably, surely, this was the alcohol. But this stranger had something alluring about him. His glistening lips from the water made Solomon unable to do anything else but stare.

"You going to take it, or not?"

"Ah yes", Solomon grabbed the bottle and took a sip before putting it back down again.

"May I sit with you?" He put a hand on his neck and averted his gaze. "I- uhm came here to get away from all the noise for a bit- I don't wanna be creepy or anything-"

"Oh- Yes of course! Don't worry about it"

The grin returned to his face as he slouched down beside him. "Thank you."

Solomon took another chug of water. He didn't really have anywhere to be, nor did he have the strength to go home anyways. So he figured he might as well sober up, while making some new memories.

"Out of curiosity.. what do you mean by brave?" Solomon smirked at him.

"Well...", the stranger just smiled, a slight tint of colour dusting his cheeks. "You're pretty handsome. And I normally can't ask out guys for the heck of it.. so yeah. I'd say I'm being stupidly brave by talking to someone as hot as you."

The sorcerer laughed. "How very direct"

"Must be the alcohol", he chuckled. "I don't know anyone around here.. and I have a habit of drinking too much when I'm at social gatherings without friends.. What about you? Why are you here all alone?.. If it's okay to ask, at least."

"Ah it's okay~ I'm trying to sober up from drinking too", Solomon sighed. "It was an exhausting night.."

The stranger nodded sighing. "Tell me about it."

"So.. what are you celebrating?"

And so, they proceeded to talk about the reasons why they were here. Their conversation slowly but surely going of its original rails, from politics to religion to light-hearted shows and childhood memories.

Solomon, of course, didn't go into much detail about magic nor anything like that. They were simply trailing off into more and more different topics, running their tongues because of the alcohol.

"Wait, people avoid you when you invite them?" He asked in shock, "Even after you offer to cook for them?! Woah, that's rude after everything you've done..."

Solomon hung his head in disappointment. "I really don't know what the issue is, you know? It's not like they outright avoid me when we nee- want to hang out, but everytime I offer my hospitality they just.. you know?"

"Shiiiit bro... ," he thought for a bit, then joked, "Maybe your cooking sucks?"

Solomon sighed dramatically, proceeding to pout. "Can't blame the tasteless."

"Just kidding kidding!!" he smiled sympathetically, "Maybe it's best if you ask them directly about it. Honesty is always key, no matter where you're from."

Solomon remembered something.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

The stranger looked him up and down, seeming to think for a bit and then smirking back at him.

"You tell me, wizard boy. Am I?"

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I'm", Solomon gesticulated dramatically, "a wizard."

He became serious and leaned closer to Solomon, putting a hand on his shoulder. Solomon's breath hitched ever so slightly as the stranger's intense gaze held him entranced.

"You're a wizard, Harry."

"Huh?"

The stranger wheezed at his reference, as Solomon finally understood and erupted into laughter himself.

He stopped himself to respond seriously:

"..A wizard?"

"Don't you feel it ," the stranger put their hand over Solomon's heart, making his heart pound a bit harder, which surprised him, "...,Mister Krabs?"

"Huh- What?-"

After a perplexed pause they looked at each other and wheezed and cackled in the cursed manner your friends laugh when someone tells a ridiculous, dumb joke.

As they sat there, next to a river enveloped by the light of street lamps in a park, their laughter erupted through the silent night. Nothing but very faint music could be heard in the distance. Solomon didn't even know why he was laughing so hard. It was a stupid reference. And this stranger was clearly out of it.

There was something about him... Solomon just couldn't put his finger to it.

"S-so haha you're a man of culture as well~", Solomon calmed down, "What's your name?"

" Of course~ (y/N)." The stranger responded smiling, wiping away a tear. "Yours?"

"Solomon.", he answered reciprocating the smile.

"Solomon the wise?"

"Yes." He shot him a knowing glance. "So you do know me~"

"Oh yes~" (y/N)'s fingers slid over Solomon's coat. "You dress like a wizard, you look like a wizard aaaaand your named after King Solomon the wise. Great literature surrounds you: like Ars Goëtia and the lesser keys of, well, you", their gaze turned to look into the sorcerer's grey eyes.

With that, Solomon understood.

This person didn't know him . He knew of his tales, the legends, basically fairy tales.

He was like most humans... Unaware of the magical world he lived in. The realisation stung a bit, but the sorcerer decided to play along anyways as he felt himself sobering up.

"Well, I can't disappoint a fan like yourself now, can I?" Solomon smirked.

"Ohh~ So are you going to show me any tricks?" (y/N) laughed, standing up challengingly. "Come at me with your best shot, wizard boy~"

Solomon didn't know why, but he felt the urge to impress the young man.

"Hmm", he stood up, although a bit wobbly. "Alright. But I'll need an assistant~"

"Oh my oh myyy" (y/N) excitedly clapped their hands together. "I'll sacrifice myself for the greater good then."

Solomon chuckled, shooting him a provocative glance through his lashes at which he thought he saw (y/N) blushing.

"So, (y/N), are you ready?"

"I'm was born ready"

Solomon offered him his hand. "Take my hand, my cute assistant~"

"Oh my, and he has a way with words", (y/N) overdramatically took his hand, "The ladies will die if you do that, you know?"

"Oh will they now?", Solomon pulled him towards himself, "What effect do you think Hecate's power will have on you?"

"I like your funny words, magic man", (y/N) smirked playfully. "Tell me more~"

Solomon scoffed. This guy is a walking reference book.

"Have you ever danced with a sorcerer in the pale moonlight?", he asked, putting another hand on (y/N)'s waist, said man's breath hitching.

"W-well, I'm pretty sure the proverb goes different, Solomon", he put a hand on his counterpart's shoulder as he let Solomon take the lead, "I thought you were going to show me a trick though~"

"Patience is a virtue", he simply said teasingly.

"-and a pain", (y/N) retorted, while taking the first step back.

"So you know how to waltz?", Solomon began to lead.

"School taught me many things", he imitated a rough old man voice, "You youngsters would never understand"

Solomon tried to contain his need to laugh.

"Aha~ Funny, enlighten me?"

"Well, I don't know what they teach in wizard boy-school", they turned, " But back in my day, they tried to teach me calculus"

Solomon quirked a brow. "Tried?" Then he spun (y/N) around.

"Well, I was busy drawing into my notes", his cold hand slipped to Solomon's neck, making the sorcerer tense up.

"And what kind of Mona Lisa-worth drawings were you working on? I bet only of the highest quality~", sarcasm dripped from his voice as he shot (y/N) a teasing smile.

"Oh you can't even imagine~", (y/N) rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner before shooting him a deadpan look, "Penises mostly"

A laugh escaped Solomon. "How refined"

"I am nothing but refined, sir~"

Solomon spun him around again, matching no pace in particular, as he pulled him closer to his chest this time. A small gasp left (y/N)'s mouth.

"H-hey now, be careful there. Or do you want me to fall?"

Solomon's lips pursed up in amusement, but quickly froze as he looked into the man's face.

(y/N)'s expression was contorted in utter joy, like he couldn't contain their grin. He looked stupidly adorable...

Solomon felt his heart clench at the sight. But he quickly snapped out of it as he shot (y/N) another charming smile.

"So, about 'the ladies dying' at my charm.."

"You're still on about that?" (y/N) chuckled amused, "Give it a rest wizard boy. We get it, you're handsome-"

"What about you?" his cheeks burned as he felt himself getting... Nervous? That's new.

Solomon hoped the darkness wouldn't give him away, "How do you feel about my 'charm'?"

For a second everything stood still and they both came to a stop. Their eyes locked and silence engulfed them. Tension began to claw at both man's braveness, as realisation struck them. This encounter had progressively turned into something more. Not some random thing.

It felt like..

(y/N) averted his gaze, face flushing a bright red as he chuckled nervously. "It... It takes a bit more for me to die, Sol.."

Fate.

"Is that so?", Solomon's fingers interlaced with his as he slowly inched closer.

"I mean.. you could find out..." (y/N)'s eyes slowly closed when-

Strings of colourful magic sparked around them.

"Huh?!" His eyes shot wide open, grip tightening on Solomon's hands, "What-"

(y/N) looked around stunned and extremely surprised.

"So? How was that for a 'magic trick'?"

(y/N)'s gaze returned to face him. "Y-you.. How?"

The sorcerer just hummed. "Who knows?"

"This... Must be a dream then..", he sighed disappointed, a tinge of sadness in his voice, "That's a bummer.. I really like you."

Now it was Solomon's turn to blush.

"I- I understand the confusion, but- mph?!"

With that his lips pressed onto Solomon's.

The sorcerer froze, while (y/N)'s mouth opened a little, slipping his tongue through Solomon's mouth. He tasted like sweet liquor, further entrancing the sorcerer in a passionate kiss.

Solomon got over his shock quickly as his hands found the other's waist, pulling him towards himself. When (y/N) sighed into the kiss, hands burying into his white locks, excitement shot through his spine.

Solomon pressed him against a nearby tree. He grew hot as (y/N)'s soft, wet lips brushed against his, the passion growing with each passing second.

"Mnh hah", (y/N) parted for a second, a string of saliva connecting them, lips barely brushing against his, "This.. feels too real though.."

"Because it is- ", Solomon panted against his mouth, connecting their lips again with more of his own vigor this time. His tongue eagerly brushing over the other's.

God, what was he doing?

What was he doing??

But fuck it felt so good.

He couldn't resist the desire to touch (y/N) more and more. He wanted him closer and it showed.

As if on cue, (y/N)'s hand slid over Solomon's pants, suddenly palming his half hard erection and making him moan into the other's mouth longingly.

"Mnn- (y/N) wait.."

"Mnh? Oh sorry-!", he stopped abruptly.

"N-no I mean... Let's.. let's go to my place-"

"Oh~" (y/N) smiled and kissed him again, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he parted panting.

"Alright then. Show me the way, wizard-boy~"

#obey me #fluff #solomon #solomon x reader #m!mc #m!reader #smut

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magma-queen · 3 years

Note

“Will you let me rub your back?” Hardenshipping. Yeah that sounds like them! <3

CUTE. You’ve got it! And also I’m sorry for not getting to this sooner I had to work this weekend :( enjoy, luv!

The front door finally came open, and groaning heavily, the red headed Team Magma leader came through the door and accidentally slammed it shut.

“H-hey! Babe!” Archie came running to him, then he had his arms around him in a hug. “How was today? Ye look exhausted..”

“I AM exhausted…” Maxie replied. “My back is killing me… and so are my feet..” He made an attempt to stretch but he winced and held his shoulder. “I’m a mess right now..”

Archie snaps his fingers. “Oh, Max. I’ve got a great idea-“

“-oh god..”

*pout* “Will ye at least let me tell ye me idea before ye start assuming it’s a bad idea?”

“Alright, what is it?”

Archie grinned. “I’ll do what Matt does when me back isn’t feeling right. Now, go lay down on the floor.”

“…uh, what..?”

“Ye heard me! This’ll work, I promise ye! Now, go get cleaned up and I’ll give it a try.”

Maxie didn’t trust this one bit. Any idea that comes from Archie’s head is a guarantee either a plan that’ll get him hurt, or worse.. embarrassed.

One he was finished, he came out and saw his husband signaling him to the floor.

“Archie.. if this ends up breaking my back… I’m going to knock you into next month.”

“Just trust me, Max! Matt has done this millions of times for me, and me back isn’t broken! so it has to work!”

He saw that arguing wasn’t going to help, so he sat down on the floor, then laid down.

“Are ye ready?”

“To have my back snapped in half? Sure, hun. I’m ready to go to the ER.”

Archie detected his smartass attitude, and rolled his eyes at him. “Babe, have I ever steered ye wrong?”

Silence.

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

“Yeah… no. don’t answer that. Alright.. 3.. 2.. 1..” He stepped up onto Maxie’s back and started walking on top of it.

“A-AH! A-Archie-! Ack- That hurts!!”

He shook his head. “It will at first, just gimme a second..”

*crack*

“AH-ARCHIE! GET OFF!! Argh…. This isn’t helping!!! Oh god.. AHH!!”

Archie stepped off of him and lowered to his level. “Hun, are ye alright? I’m sorry… I thought that would work..”

“Ugh… I’m fine.. just NEVER do that again..” Maxie groaned. “Remind me to tell Matt that he’s insane.”

A chuckle came from the larger man’s mouth, but he felt bad. He watched his husband sit up and writhe in pain.

“Hey.. Max..?”

He sighed. “If it’s another bad idea… please don’t.. my back hurts even more after that..”

Archie scooted over behind him and wrapped his arms around him, kissing his cheek.

“Will ye at least let me rub your back..? If that doesn’t help, I dunno what will. I promise to be gentle..”

Maxie was about to decline, but seeing the way his husband looked at him, he couldn’t say no. He knew that Archie felt bad for almost breaking his spine.

“Alright.. there’s nothing that can go wrong there…” He stood up and flopped onto the couch, drained.

Archie follows him and lays down right next to him, snuggling him close.

“Alright, if ye feel any pain.. just let me know, and I’ll stop.. okay, hun?”

The redhead smiles. “Yes… I will..”

Archie slipped his hands underneath his shirt and started rubbing his back gently, making Maxie purr like a Delcatty.

“Does that feel a little better, Max?”

“Mmmhmm…” He hummed, resting peacefully on the couch, eyes closing. “Thank you….”

“Awww, it’s no problem, baby.. Ye know I’ll always try to take yer pain away..”

Archie kept this up,thinking that he would put his husband peacefully to sleep with his gentle touch, but after a few moments, he heard something else instead.

“Mmm.. hmhmhmhmhmhm.. hehe.. A-Archihihihihie..”

“Mm? Yeah? Am I hurtin’ ye?” He softens his touch even more.

He started to cough up giggles. “Ah! N-noho, it’s starting to tickle.. hehehe..”

Archie smiled, keeping it up. “Well, that’s gotta be better than the pain, huh?” He playfully spiders his fingers at his back, practically sending shivers up the redhead’s spine.

“N-nonononono! Ahahaha! Ahaharchieeee…” He giggled, squirming in his grip. “Ahaha! S-stop! Ahahahehehe- th-that’s not hehelping ihihihit tihihihihickle lehehehess!”

“I’m sure it isn’t! But ye don’t seem to be in pain anymore!” He grabbed a hold of Maxie, since he was about to hit the floor from squirming so much. “Ah, ye get back here, wiggle worm..” He cooed, gently raking his fingers down his back.

“Nohohohohohoho!!!” He squeaked, unable to twist himself around. “St-stohohohop!! *snort* Ihihihihit ticklehehehes!!”

“That’s the point, babe.. THIS is what ye need. A tickly back massage..” He smirked, scratching softly at the soft skin.

“NO! No-nohahahahaha!!! Ahahahehehehe!! Ahahaharchihihihihie!! St-stop!! M-my bahack ihihihis vehehery sehehehehensitive!!”

Archie just smiled back, listening to his sweet giggles. “Ah, come on… this has to be better than feelin’ like yer back is snapped in half!”

This continues for a good moment, then Maxie tried wiggling away again, but Archie had an iron grip on him.

“Okahahahay okahahahay!! *snort* You cahahahan stahahahahop now! I can’t tahahahake it!” He squeaked again. “Cahahan’t you juhuhust rub my bahahack normahahahahally???”

“Well, then it wouldn’t be that much fun then, would it?” The Aqua leader laughed. “This seems to have ye much more relaxed, sweetheart. Besides… that soft giggle of yers is tuggin’ at me heart strings~ Yer laugh is so beautiful.”

His face turned pink, not just from laughing, but also from Archie’s compliments. “Ahaharchie! Cohohome ahahahahan!!! Y-you’re ehehehembarassing me!”

Archie let up on him and put more force on his back, slowing his giggling.

“Th-thank *hic* you..” He hiccuped.

“Yer so cute, I swear..” He brought a hand up to his head and pet it, getting him to purr more. “Me magma bear~”

“Stop it, you dork… you know I hate that nickname….” Maxie replied, blushing and sinking back down into the couch.

After a while, Archie stopped. Yawning, he sat up. “I’m gettin’ sleepy, babe… can we head to bed now?”

“As long as you keep rubbing my back.. that’s fine with me..” He chuckled, sitting up.

He saw that Archie was looking down at the floor, lost in thought.

“Archie?”

He snapped back to reality. “Sorry, Max. But I was just wonderin’.. didn’t ye say that yer feet were hurtin’ too?” There was a playful tone in his voice.

Maxie’s eyes went wide and he started to move away from him. “N-no I didn’t-!”

“Pretty sure ye did…” Archie growled. “Maybe I should give ye a foot rub too.”

He was already running away. “NOPE. BYE.”

Archie took off after him. “Wha-? Come back here! Yer not gonna run away from me! I just wanna help ye relax!” Chuckling, he went searching around the entire house, looking for his hiding husband. “What do ye think a foot rub is gonna do?”

“KILL ME!” He yelled back. “D-Don’t you dare come near my feet! Do you hear me?!”

Silence.

“Babe. Ye know I’m gonna find ye.” He crossed his arms, walking to their bedroom.

He found Maxie hiding in the bed. Not a very smart hiding spot. And to make it worse, he had his feet sticking out from underneath the covers, making Archie flash an impish grin.

“Gotcha!”

“Aaah!!”

Archie sat down on top of his legs so he couldn’t escape. “Now.. just relax, and hold still, babe…” He began massaging his right foot. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt, but there’s no guarantee it won’t tickle like hell.”

“N-no!! Don’t you daHAHAHAHAHA!!!! NOHOHOHOHO!! LEHEHET GOHOHOHOHO!!”

Needless to say, he got his foot rub, alright. Despite the dumbass act, Archie knew that he would have him howling in laughter, because his feet were even more ticklish than his back.

#Anonymous #ask #asks #Hardenshipping #Maxie #Archie #Tickling #Fic #my fic #my fics #This was so much fun to write aksnskskdjn SEND MORE lmao

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Redemption Never Came

Prompt: was rereading Tactical Retreat and I think it may just be time for that *conversation* with patton. he must have some kind of perspective here! I love your writing so much like you are an icon when it comes to writing- like you've taught me so much! <3!!

Thank you for the req! Also:

it is CHECK POINT TIME MY DUDES~

unclench your jaw roll them shoulders back drink something go to the bathroom eat something look away from the screen for three goddamn CONSECUTIVE seconds

okay cool now you may proceed love you very much

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussion of self-harm, nothing explicit

Pairings: focus on royality, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 4690

Redemption: the act of redeeming or the condition of having been redeemed.

Redemption: deliverance.

* * *

Roman and Patton talk.

“Pat, let’s go get L something to drink.”

“But—I—“

“It’s too much for him, Pat,” Virgil says softly, “with all of us here, he’s getting overwhelmed. Let’s go and then we’ll come back, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

Patton grips the counter as Virgil opens the cupboard. His glasses threaten to slide off the end of his nose. He can’t let go. He’ll fall.

“Pop Star?” Virgil’s hand appears on his shoulder. “Pop Star, breathe, come on.”

He manages to swallow, ducking his head to try and follow Virgil’s instructions. The hand stays on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles.

“That’s it, Pop Star, just breathe, you’re okay.”

Something twists in his chest.

“I know,” Patton grinds out, “I know I’m okay.”

Logan is the one who isn’t okay right now. And that—is that his fault too?

“Hey, uh uh.”

Patton frowns, looking up as Virgil tugs on his sleeve. Virgil’s brow is furrowed as he stares down at him.

“Don’t do that,” Virgil chides gently, “don’t blame yourself for this.”

“But I didn’t notice—“

“Neither did the rest of us,” Virgil breaks in, forcing the glass into Patton’s hand so he can fill it up, “except for Remus. And Remus took a long time too.”

Patton’s tongue swells.

“It’s not on you,” comes more reassurance, and doesn’t it feel weird, “we’re all to blame here.”

“We should’ve known,” he mutters, focusing on not spilling the water all over the kitchen.

“Maybe. But we didn’t. And we can’t change that. We just gotta focus on what we can do now.”

“I know that,” Patton grumbles, “I’ve said that to you guys more times than I can count, why—why am I struggling with this?”

“You just found out that someone very close to you is hurting themselves,” Virgil says, “you’re upset.”

“I know that too!”

“Uh-huh, then you know that it makes sense that you’re not processing things as easily as you normally would.”

He knows that too. Patton sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“He ate some at dinner, he should be alright, let’s just get him the water.”

“Great.” Virgil glances around. “We should probably get, uh…other stuff too.”

Right.

Before they can leave, however, Janus and Remus appear, dark looks on their faces. Patton’s heart sinks.

“What’s wrong? Do we need the first aid kit?”

“He’s got one in his room, doesn’t he?”

Janus nods. But he’s not looking at either of them. Patton frowns, looking over at Remus, who looks about two seconds from smashing apart the fridge.

“…kiddos?”

Remus snarls.

Virgil strides forward and takes Remus under one arm, bending close to mutter in his ear. As Patton watches, some of the tension goes out of Remus’s shoulders and he lets out a slow breath. He turns to Janus.

“Is Roman still…with him?”

Janus nods sharply. Something twists his mouth.

“Janus, what happened?”

“Roman is taking care of him,” Janus says quietly, his voice even, “we’re…here to check on you two.”

Patton frowns. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Correct.”

“…so tell me?”

Janus glances up at Remus. Remus turns away from Virgil, obviously just having been asked a similar question, and shakes his head firmly. Janus looks back at Patton apologetically.

“Not mine to tell.”

“Remus?”

“No.”

The dark weight in Patton’s chest expands. Only when Janus calls his name quietly does he realize he’s trying valiantly to break the glass in his hands. He sets it quickly down on the counter and wraps his arms around himself.

“Sorry.”

“You’re upset,” Janus mumbles, “we all are.”

“So what’s going on?”

Janus sighs. “Our resident nerd appears to be…trapping himself in logical paradoxes and attempting to resolve them in…unique ways.”

“Let’s never call it that again,” Virgil growls. Janus nods in agreement. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lie.” Virgil scoffs when Janus looks up at him incredulously. “Come on, dude, I lived with you.”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because it’s not my secret to tell,” Janus snaps, wincing at himself a moment later. Virgil waves him off. “Logan deserves that privacy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you two were so concerned about privacy like…half an hour ago.”

“Yes, and that couldn’t be because the priorities of that situation were entirely different.”

“Enough,” Patton says firmly. “This is the opposite of what we should be doing right now.”

He picks up the glass of water.

“Virgil, where are the weighted blankets?”

“In the hall closet. I can—“

“I’ll come with you.”

Janus follows Virgil back up the stairs. Patton takes another deep breath and looks over at Remus. Remus doesn’t meet his gaze.

“...Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me back to Logan’s room?”

“Sure.” Remus follows a few steps behind. Patton can feel his gaze almost boring through his back. “Don’t spill the water.”

“I won’t.”

They arrive at the door and wait, listening for Janus and Virgil down the hall. Patton turns to see if they could be coming the other way only for Remus’s piercing stare to freeze him.

“What?”

Remus tilts his head and remains silent.

“Remus, what are you doing? Is there something—what’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Remus says and the softness of his voice sends a chill down Patton’s spine, “and what I should do about it.”

Patton swallows. “Remus, whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.”

Before Patton can answer whatever just happened, Janus and Virgil appear, carrying the weighted blankets. Patton spares one more look at Remus before reaching out to gently knock on the door.

It’s a little bit of a blur after that. They walk in to see Roman cupping Logan’s face in his hands, having changed him into a soft shirt and bandaging his legs. Patton crouches down to help Logan drink and wraps him up in a protective cuddle as soon as Logan says it’s okay.

They sit there like that for a while, long enough for both of Patton’s legs to fall asleep and not long enough for the ache in his chest to dull. Logan’s sobs trail off into Roman’s shoulder as he strokes his hand through his hair, still murmuring softly. He’s not sure when he gets the courage to reach and gently ask Logan if he can take his glasses off, but if the sleepy way Logan butts his head against his hand, it’s been a while. Poor Logan is exhausted, all but falling asleep on Roman. They get him into bed slowly, bit by bit, leaving just as gradually. Roman is the last one to leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Patton makes his way to his room and goes through his getting-ready-for-bed process on autopilot. His walls are grayer than normal, the sun long since set, leaving the room dark and muted. He climbs beneath the covers, sets his glasses on the nightstand, and turns off the lamp.

The dark feeling from earlier finally makes it to his head.

How did he never notice?

It’s not like Logan was a master at hiding the fact that he has feelings, surely the amount of times his voice softens when addressing them is proof enough on its own. And surely they all knew that he denies it so often that it’s not a question of how he feels about that.

So why did he never notice that it wouldn’t be hard for Logan to decide that he needed to get rid of them, at any cost?

He turns over in bed, burying his face in a pillow.

Is that why Remus was mad?

Remus being mad at him is not a comfortable situation. Remus is so uncaring about so many things—not that the kiddo doesn’t care! He absolutely cares about some things, his work, the others, Roman, goodness, so much—but when it comes to emotions and responses and good versus bad, well, Remus’s standpoint is normally…no.

So why is Remus mad? Because he wasn’t doing his job and taking care of Logan? Well, Patton’s mad at himself for that too, but…

He frowns, turning back over and staring at a spot on the wall.

That doesn’t feel like that’s why Remus is mad. If Remus were mad at him for not taking care of Logan, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call him out on it. He would’ve cussed him out right there in the kitchen, not caring about what Virgil or Janus would’ve said. It would’ve been much harder for Virgil to calm him down—presumably, even though Virgil is very good at his job—and that certainly wouldn’t explain why Janus was acting strange, too.

Janus is keeping something from him. Nothing new there, but this…this is different. He can feel it. Normally Janus would deny that he was hiding a secret, but he insisted that it wasn’t his to tell and…seemed to look to Remus to get that confirmation?

Oh.

Oh, no.

Roman.

Something’s wrong with Roman.

Patton’s chest grows cold and he hunches over his blankets, eyes going wide.

Roman is so good at helping. Roman is so good at helping. Patton can’t remember the number of times he’s walked in on Roman helping one of the others or Roman walking in on him helping someone else and immediately offering to help too. Letting Roman help Logan was the right choice, especially when Patton was already too upset to be useful. But…but…

If Remus and Janus came downstairs to ‘check up on’ him and Virgil, something must’ve happened, and Roman—oh, Roman—

Patton frowns.

Logan is hurt. Very, very badly. Roman is helping him. But now…is Roman hurt too?

What happened to Roman?

Patton shuts his eyes and buries his face in the blankets again, trying valiantly to suppress a whine.

Logan is hurt and they need to take care of him and they know that the only way they’re going to help Logan is if he tells them what he needs.

Logan is talking to Roman and Janus and Remus. That’s good. Maybe he’ll talk to Patton too, then they could all help.

But with Roman…

Patton doesn’t know what’s going on. He goes to sleep and wakes up and still doesn’t know.

He knows how to help Logan. Logan talks to them and tells them things now, or he’ll come seek them out, after that night, just to sit and be and make sure he’s not left alone in his room. He sits down with Patton one day and explains what’s been happening. Patton wells up, because of course, he’ll help, nothing’s wrong with Logan, he’s doing wonderfully, and yes, he can always come get reassurances if he needs them.

That’s what Logan needs from Patton.

He doesn’t know what Roman needs.

At least…not until Remus knocks on his door and asks him to come to the Imagination.

There’s a house. A very simple house. Remus knocks on the door and Roman’s voice calls from inside. Remus pushes open the door and ushers Patton inside.

Roman sits at the table and stands when Patton walks in. He smiles softly and nods to Remus in thanks. Remus nods back, gives Patton a look that says he’s not going very far, and shuts the door behind him.

“Hey, Padre,” Roman says softly, “come sit?”

Patton sits. Roman doesn’t meet his eyes, staring at a spot on the floor. Patton swallows.

“Roman?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you…okay?”

Roman laughs under his breath. “No, Patton, I’m not.”

Patton knew the answer to that. It still hurt.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t know.” Roman finally looks up at him and the second he does part of Patton wishes he’d look away again. “But I need to talk to you about that.”

“M-me?”

“Yeah, Patton. You—“ Roman sighs— “you and I have a lot to talk about, I think.”

Oh. It’s this conversation.

“Yeah,” Roman murmurs, “are you—do you think you can have it now?”

Does he?

“…yeah,” Patton says after a moment, “yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good.”

Patton sits up a little taller in the chair and folds his hands in his lap. Roman catches it and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t have to do that, Patton.”

Patton tilts his head. “What?”

Roman waves a hand at him. “That. Sit up straight like I’m about to tell you off.”

“…aren’t you?”

“No. And even if I was, you don’t have to do that.” Something darker flitters across his expression. “Learned that recently.”

Memories of every time Roman’s stood up taller when someone is talking to him flash across Patton’s mind. Something in his gut twists. But he makes an effort to speak anyway.

“But you…” he swallows, “you’re in charge right now.”

“I don’t want to be.” Roman holds up a hand to stop him. “That doesn’t mean you have to be in charge either. This is a conversation, Patton, at least it has to be if we’re going to do anything, which means equal footing. No one’s in charge, no one has more power than anyone else.”

Oh. Okay. Patton takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, making an effort to relax into the chair.

“Thank you.”

Silence. Roman’s back to staring at the ground. Something’s coming. Something big is coming and Patton doesn’t know if he can handle what it is.

As it turns out, he was right.

“I self harm too.”

A thunderclap. Patton’s breath catches in his throat and he only knows he’s gasped by the way his throat hurts.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m—“

“Don’t,” Roman says softly, too soft, why does he sound this calm right now?— “let me finish, please.”

Patton slams his mouth shut. Roman doesn��t look up at him.

“I self-harm for a different reason than Logan does,” he continues, “but we both do it because we think it’s right.”

His gut twists again.

“I’m Thomas’s hopes and dreams,” Roman continues, “I’m his Ego. I want what he wants and I’m supposed to help him get it.”

One of Roman’s hands twitches.

“But my wants aren’t important. Thomas’s wants are important. I’m supposed to be happy with what Thomas wants—with wanting what Thomas wants—and what I want doesn’t make Thomas happy.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

“What Thomas wants—what the rest of you want—is for me to play the role. I am the Ego, I am arrogant, I am cocky, I am loud, I am annoying. I am soft enough to cave to your demands and to be poked and prodded in the right direction until I finally do what Thomas wants. I’m not supposed to want for myself, I’m supposed to want for Thomas, and when I don’t—“

He cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again.

“When I don’t, I am rejected. I am only wanted if I can produce work good enough for Thomas, if I act right, if I want what Thomas wants. To do that, I have to play the role. I have to feel the things I need to feel to do the work. A-and to do that, I need to…” he swallows again, “remind myself.”

Somewhere, far away, something crows.

“There’s no sainthood in satisfaction. Selfless is safe. Whenever I want something, I’m supposed to give it up to make Thomas happy. That’s what’s important. That’s why I do it.”

Patton feels sick.

Not just because what Roman is saying is enough to tear his heart out and leave him a sobbing, broken mess, but because he knows where most of it came from.

“R-Roman,” he manages when Roman comes to the end of his speech, “oh, Roman, I’m so—I’m so sorry.”

Roman huffs a laugh. “I know you are, Patton.”

No. No, no, no, he remembers that tone of voice. Remembers Roman sinking out a moment later, his face as horribly resigned as it is now.

Remembers the question he asked Janus at the end of that awful, awful day.

“Do you think there's a limit on how many times someone can say sorry before you have to admit that they're just bad for you?”

Roman huffs again. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask to judge when someone’s bad for you.”

Oh.

The thing in Patton’s gut twists again.

“What can I do,” he mumbles, “what do I do to make this better?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can tell me,” he pleads, “tell me what to do and I’ll—“

“No.”

“But, Roman—“

“No, Patton,” Roman says again, “I can’t tell you what to do. One because I don’t know what would make this better, and two—“

He cuts himself off as he scrubs his hands over his face.

“Two, because I know what will happen if I try.”

“…what?”

“I’ll give in. Because I always give in,” he mutters sardonically, “because seeing you upset hurts, more than pretty much anything else, and it doesn’t matter what I have to do to make you stop hurting.”

Patton’s chest throbs.

“So I can’t tell you what to do,” Roman finishes, “because it’ll be a lie.”

And Patton knows he’s right.

Because the sight of Roman, right now, is enough to make him want to cave to just about anything to see him be alright again.

“..can I hug you?”

“No,” Roman whispers, “for the same reason.”

Patton aches.

“Why—“ he swallows and tries again— “why can’t we do this? Why can’t we help each other?”

“Because we care too much,” Roman says softly, “we care too much about each other and too little about ourselves.”

Something in his tone darkens.

“…or at least we think we do.”

Cold. Patton is cold now. Colder than ice. It burns.

“God, Patton, do you even know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”

Roman’s anger, sudden and fiery, burns straight into Patton’s chest, muting him as Roman’s fist tightens in his lap. His glare threatens to scorch a hole in the floor.

“I gave up everything for you, just to make you happy, I gave up the callback, I gave up my songs, I gave up my entire worldview for you, and you—you—“

He jams his knuckle into his mouth for a moment and bites. Hard.

Patton can’t even make a noise of protest.

“I was never good enough for you, Patton,” Roman says after a moment, “there was always something else I needed to fix, something else I was doing wrong, something else I had to apologize for. And then you just stood there. After everything I’d ever done for you, you didn’t even stand up for me. You just looked at me like I should’ve known it was coming. That I…deserved it.”

Guilt roils in Patton’s gut, pressing against his stomach, his throat, his mouth, his head, but one word lingers at the tip of his tongue.

“…worldview?”

Like someone flipping a light switch, Roman’s expression clicks into a softer fury. He sits back in the chair and for a moment, he looks as if he’s about to reminisce about something pleasant. What comes out of his mouth is anything but.

“I wasn’t just afraid of Janus being accepted meaning I wasn’t,” he murmurs, voice far too gentle, “I was afraid because I remembered the last time the two of you agreed on something.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Growing up and seeing messages about one man, one woman.

Growing up believing that people who didn’t feel that love were destined for something awful.

Growing up seeing the isolation, the fear, the hatred, the violence.

Watching Roman start to fantasize about boys.

He remembers.

He remembers Deceit—because he was only Deceit then—coming to him and telling him that under no circumstances can they ever act on these feelings. He remembers telling Deceit that they aren’t having these feelings, that they wouldn’t have those feelings, because they were wrong and Thomas was not wrong and so they would stop.

He remembers the two of them hounding poor Roman about daydreaming about boys, wanting boys, wanting to make Thomas happy by imagining a future with a boy.

Never mind that it wasn’t wrong.

Never mind that it made Thomas miserable.

Never mind that it was Patton that had the feelings first and Roman was just following Patton’s lead.

Roman just nods.

Patton opens his mouth to try and say something, anything, but he can’t. The guilt has eaten away his tongue.

“But I can’t blame you for everything,” Roman says instead, still not looking at Patton—has he looked at him since he sat down?— “I was the one who looked at you as the unquestionable pillar of authority. I was the one who shoved that onto you when you didn’t ask for it. I was the one who made those choices. I’m as much to blame for this as you are.”

“No.” Patton shakes his head firmly. “No, Roman, you’re not.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I...have a lot of influence over Thomas. I have a lot to do with how he reacts to things, how he sees the world and how we determine how to respond to it.” He sneaks a glance at Roman, whose gaze is still turned away. He tried to pretend that doesn’t hurt as much as it does. “And if I remember correctly...you tried to do something once to make me and Thomas happy because you wanted it too, and we...we told you off for it.”

“With...?”

Patton nods. “With...him. And I remember you refusing to take the wheel after that.”

“I did,” Roman says softly, “because I realized I truly didn’t know how to make you—any of you—happy.”

“I put myself in a position of authority as much as anyone else did,” Patton says, the tears—finally, he was wondering when they were going to show up—start to roll down his cheeks, “you’re not to blame for wanting to follow that, especially when I—when I told you that it was the right thing to do.”

His glasses start to fog. He takes them off shakily and wipes them on his shirt.

“But I’m done with that.” He puts them back on firmly. “I’m gonna figure out how to do this right, I promise, I’ll—I’ll redeem myself, I’ll be a good person.”

Instead of Roman smiling softly and saying he looks forward to it, or Roman saying he doesn’t have to, or even Roman glaring at him and saying he’d like to see him try, Roman just huffs.

“I think we need to get rid of the whole redemption arc thing too.”

What?

“What?”

“It’s—“ Roman waves his hand— “it’s you saying you need to what, throw yourself at our feet? Repent? Atone for whatever wrongs you’ve done so we’ll welcome you back with open arms?”

Patton nods in confusion. “So you’ll forgive me. So I can be good.”

“Okay, but why is forgiveness a necessity for you to be good?”

A pause.

“Like, yes, working out how to stop doing bad things is something that I get, but why—why do we—why is forgiveness a crucial part of that?”

“Because I’ve hurt you, and if I’m going to make it up to you—“

“But that’s giving me power I didn’t ask for!”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, forgiveness—in this case—is me granting your salvation, or something, or passing a judgment that absolves you of guilt, saying that you showed that you’ve changed and I judge you and then I agree that you’re enough better than you were, right?”

He nods.

“I don’t have that power! What gives me the right to sit there and say I have final say in whether or not you’re a good person? I’m not morally infallible! I’m not morally impartial! I’m not even Morality!”

Roman throws his hands up and barks out a laugh.

“And the idea that I could?” He shakes his head. “I have enough problems to worry about with that.”

Patton’s eyes widen.

He’s…he’s right.

Goodness, he’s right.

“B-but…” he swallows another wave of tears, “will you…you won’t love me if you don’t forgive me.”

“Who told you that? Never mind,” Roman says, holding up a hand, “I know the answer to that.”

He takes another deep breath.

“Forgiveness and love are not the same thing, Patton,” he says softly, “I don’t have to forgive you to love you. I can love someone without forgiving every single wrong thing that they’ve done.”

“You can?”

“Virgil has hurt you. Logan has hurt you. Remus has hurt you. Janus has hurt you. I’ve hurt you.” Roman pauses. “Do you still love us?”

“Yes,” he says immediately, “of course I do.”

“There you go, then.”

“But—“ he blinks to try and clear away the tears— “but what—if I’m a bad person—“

“I never said that.”

“—but bad people don’t deserve—“

“Patton,” Roman cuts in sharply, “forgiveness and goodness aren’t the same either. I don’t need to forgive you to be a good person. Just because someone doesn’t forgive you doesn’t make you a bad person.”

He softens.

“And being a bad person isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

“…what?”

“What is courage?”

Patton blinks.

“What is courage,” Roman repeats, “tell me?”

“It’s, um, bravery.”

“Does that mean never being afraid, ever?”

“N-no, it can mean being afraid and doing it anyway, because the reason you’re doing it is stronger than your fear.”

“Then perhaps,” Roman says softly, “being a good person isn’t the absence of bad things, but choosing to do good things, over and over and over again.”

The dark thing twists one more time.

“So no, Patton,” Roman finishes, his eyes closing, “you don’t need to redeem yourself. You don’t need me to forgive you. And you’re not a bad person.”

“How—“ he swallows— “how did this turn into you comforting me?”

“Because that’s how this works, Patton.”

“Not anymore it’s not.” Patton glares through the tears. “You did so well, Roman, right now, you told me everything and you didn’t give in, even when it was really hard for you and I know it was.”

Roman is quiet.

“You stood up to me and you stuck to your points, you let yourself get angry and you told me what you thought.” He swallows. “That was hard and so brave and I’m so proud of you.”

He blinks furiously again.

“I know you may not be a big fan of the word ‘deserve’—“ Roman huffs— “but you deserve to know that. That I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s funny,” Roman says, his voice strangled, “but for all my talk about you not needing my forgiveness, I…I—“

Patton tears his glasses off to wipe frantically at his eyes and jam them back on.

Oh.

Oh, Roman…

Roman is crying too. His face is shining, wet with tears.

“…you know I’ve forgiven you already.”

The dark thing in Patton’s chest shatters.

“Can we be done,” he pleads, already reaching across the table, “can we be done, can I hug you now, please?”

Roman looks at him.

For the first time since sitting down, Roman looks at him.

“…please?”

There isn’t a word for the noise that tears itself out of Patton’s throat as he rushes around the table and just about tackles Roman into a hug. They fall to the ground, thankfully onto something soft, their arms wrapped too tightly around each other to tell who’s who. They’re both sobbing, apologies, promises, reassurances, everything, anything, words fumbling over and over each other until it’s just noise.

It won’t be easy.

It isn’t easy.

But it’s okay.

It’ll be okay.

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

Taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @danniburgh @lunaserenade @leonieb @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @disgruntledspacedad @zukoyonce @pedropascalito @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @green-socks @lv7867

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike x oc

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Note

What about the first time daddy!Bill let you see and touch his cock?

Mmmph, yes. This drabble is a bit of a continuation of this one [x], where soft Daddy!Bill takes you on a first date and does his best to keep it respectful. I’ve been into the idea of a very loving, compassionate Daddy who only wants to protect and spoil you. DDLG themes ahead...

Tonight was the night you'd been waiting for. After weeks of preparation and private discussion, agreements and promises, Bill took you to a sleepy mountain town where he liked to get away. It was your first real trip with him, and you suspected his invitation meant more than a fun weekend cross-country skiing and sipping hot chocolate by the fire in the chalet.

You spent the first day exploring the area, thick winterized boots strapped to your feet and a cumbersome parka zipped up to your chin. Bill had coiled a scarf around the bottom half of your face, made sure your knit hat was on straight and helped you poke your hands into a pair of mittens he kept in the closet. The walk was refreshing, albeit clumsy, but he held your hand with a smile and brought you down to the frozen lake to catch the minks skittering around their icy bank-side caverns. Beyond the lake lay a crown of slate and white mountains. Their staggering prowess, Bill's large hand gripping yours, and the inches-thick layers surrounding your body had you thoroughly disarmed. This was a place to forget, rewire. Up in the mountains, the rest of the world turned off.

And forget you did. When you and Bill hunkered down for the night to a home-cooked dinner, you thought of nothing but what was to come next. He kept staring at you from across the table with a little smirk teasing his lips. You were never nervous around Bill, but tonight, you couldn't breathe away the flush on your cheeks. The wine he'd poured in your glass didn't last, and when you asked for more, Bill shook his head slowly.

"I don't think that's wise. You need to be of sound mind tonight."

His assertion didn't come as a shock. It pleased him to see you nod your head, and he reached for your hand to rub your knuckles.

"I think we're ready, don't you?"

You wanted to blurt out, "yes! Yes, I'm ready! I've been waiting for so long, Bill, yes!" Instead, you kept calm and smiled. He appreciated your patience, flashing you a promising leer.

After dinner, Bill washed the dishes before you took separate showers. You brushed your hair, put on a nightgown and waited on the bed for him to finish his nightly routine. Then, he slid into fresh sheets with you and took you by shoulders for a kiss so long the next one shocked you. Bill had kissed you before, but never like this.

"Do you like it up here?" He asked.

"Yes, it's beautiful. I'm so grateful for the trip, I don't know how to thank you."

"You know why I brought you up here, right?"

"I think I can take a guess," you said.

"There's no pressure, honey. I just like spending time with you and guilty of overindulgence from time to time. It makes me happy to take care of you. I want you to have all the best things."

"I know," was all you could say.

"Yeah. And I'm proud of you for waiting. You're very sweet and patient. But I'd like to recap. If you don't mind."

"Of course," you agreed.

Bill shifted in bed, resting his hands on your legs, so close yet so far from where you wanted them.

"I want to be a good Daddy to you. That means I expect you to be good to me as well. That's my requirement. Respect. You give me your word, and I promise I'll make you feel like a real princess. But you gotta listen."

He stared at you firmly, and your head wagged. You'd waited for this for so long, it tingled your loins to be close enough to taste the air behind his words.

"What's our word gonna be?"

"Cinnamon."

His grave reserve cracked from a faint smile on his lips. "Wow, you had that one ready to go."

"I've thought about this night since I met you."

"Me too, baby girl. It's all right if I call you that? My baby girl?"

You fumbled only slightly over your answer, enough to flatten it into a whisper. "Yes, Daddy."

"Are you ready, honey? Once I flip the switch, it's Daddy mode until I'm finished with you. And I promise you will be finished several times before I am. So don't forget your word if I play too rough."

Gush. You couldn't take his words gliding down your neck, his mouth coming close to grazing your skin, but never quite. The heat grew between your legs, and he sensed it there. He'd dragged you through a long waiting period, and now he was two layers away from being naked with you.

"I'm ready."

"That's good. How would you like to start, baby girl? You show me, or I show you?"

"Show me," you blurted.

"I thought you might say that. Tell you what, why don't you sit right there in the middle of the bed, and I'll give you a nice show?"

Bill sat with his back against a mound of pillows, legs spread in the longest, bare-legged V-shape with you in between his shins. You wanted to stroke the hair on his legs and test if his thighs felt as supple as they looked. His underwear did nothing to disguise his bulge. They enhanced it—drew your eyes to his crotch, which he began stroking before you even got comfortable.

Over the material, his large hand pushed. He tugged his bottom lip and flashed you his eyes every few seconds until his cock shot off to the right, rolling with blood. The longer he rubbed his shaft, the thicker he grew, and the wetter the sensation in your panties.

Suddenly you were drooling, waiting for the moment he pushed down his boxers and let his cock spring up. Bill stopped and crooked his finger at you.

"Come to Daddy, little girl. Come get your treat. I wanna watch you unwrap it."

You scooted up the bed, closer to his groin, and waited for him to nod, granting you permission to pull down the band.

"Oh, Daddy... It's so big."

"Do you like that?"

You let your hand answer the question. Taking care not to grip too firmly, you gave it a couple of strokes. Bill closed his eyes and sank into the pillows. He exulted the motion of your fingers working his length. His head returned to neutral, his eyes peeled open, and he rolled his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Feels so good when you stroke it like that, princess."

"It's pretty," you said.

"Yeah? You think so? It doesn't scare you, does it, baby?"

"No, Daddy. I like it. You're beautiful all over."

Bill bent his knees as he reached for your face. You continued your languid massage as he nipped your lips and whimpered into the kiss, smothering your mouth when you delivered a particularly adept twist.

"Mm, don't stop, baby girl. Keep doing exactly what you're doing. That's perfect," he whispered. "You're so good for me. My sweet girl... Taking care of Daddy's cock so well. It's your responsibility now, and I have a feeling you won't let me down."

#soft daddy bill #soft!daddybill #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard x reader #Best of

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bitch-butter · 3 years

Text

(Modern!AU Webgott idea. Longish? Will eventually be called true bluish light. Tell me if this is interesting lol

Rated C for mentions of Joe's poor COVID protocol)

* * *

The blackout curtains that hung over the single window in the somewhat narrow bedroom were intensely effective, shrouding the occupants of the bed in a heavy darkness that even the daylight outside could not permeate. The still potent smell of sex lingered over the room, sweat and saliva and everything else casting a gross and homey aroma over the rumpled sheets and discarded clothing along the floor. Just around the edges of the curtain was a thin, white glow, but beyond that absent suggestion of light the room remained dark and still, as though nobody was there at all.

Pulling in a deep breath, Joe admitted he really shouldn’t have been there.

Shouldn’t have stayed the night, at least, if anything for the sake of his own reputation. He’s not typically one to go full spoons with a stranger (or, practically a stranger) no matter how good the sex had been, and he’s definitely never been one to spend the night somewhere that is not his bed. He’s spent years crafting his bed, has read actual magazine articles about how to create the best, most comfortable space, and after many years of hard work he is lucky enough to have created what many have called the Coziest Place in America. Suffice it to say, he does not like to spend a night in someone else's bed and he doesn’t think he needs to apologize for it.

This bed isn’t the worst, though.

And the guy that came with it wasn’t the worst either, he had to say. Joe had been ready to delete the app that led him to this guy and his bed, but it’s funny what a ‘ping’ on a lonely Friday night after nearly a year of no sex could do. Turns out that celibacy has made him into a fucking cuddler.

He’s not all that sorry about it. Keeping his distance from contact with other humans has handily prevented him from catching COVID thus far, and not everybody in his circle can say the same thing, as Tab had caught it first out of all of them via an ill-timed jaunt to Miami and Lip had had it twice now by virtue of his shoddy lungs and over-eagerness to lend a hand to people in his building. But a year is long, and half a bottle of cold Kim Crawford accomplished a lot at diminishing his capacity to give a shit about anything other than getting some attention on his dick. As long as the guy had sworn he tested negative, which he had, and Joe himself had tested negative, which he was, he saw no reason not to waltz into a total strangers apartment to merrily screw for as long as they both could stand to.

And it turns out this guy can stand a lot.

Joe has to admit at least half the reason he spent the night was that he actually was exhausted by the sheer voracity of their fucking. They oughta hand out medals for this shit, or something.

He finds himself smiling as he lets his mind wander over their earnestly passionate exploits of just a few hours past, and proceeds to let his eyes linger on the form of his companion. Though the room outside the warm enclosure of the blankets is a little cool the guy has one bare leg stretched out along the sheets, pressed up tightly against Joe’s own blanketed legs, with the remaining covers bundled against his chest. Resting mostly sideways on his belly, his face is turned towards Joe in sleep, mashed into the pillows and yet somehow managing to look as effortlessly gorgeous as he had looked in his photos on the app. His body moves with deep breaths, the steady inhale and exhale in combination with the sheltering warmth of the blanket nearly lulling Joe back to sleep.

Nearly.

He needed to get up, at the very least to find his phone and check the time. As carefully as he could he extracted his body from the tangle of covers, stepping lightly onto the carpet with his eyes on the other guy's face all the while, mindful not to disturb him. The night before he hadn’t even bothered to check his messages before passing out, and as such headed straight for the amorphous blob of his pants that rested just a foot away from the bed, crouching and reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone.

He hadn’t told Babe where he was going, as he’d only gathered the stones to go circa 11p.m. and he figured Babe was either asleep or performing his Getting Ready to Fuck routine and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. He almost feels sorry for Babe, who had loved the idea of dating a future doctor until this year when the sexiness of it was side-swiped by the actual danger the position entailed. As such, the Getting Ready to Fuck routine had an extra layer of manic energy to it, and Joe knew better than to try and pull Babe’s attention away from the hours preceding Gene’s rare, rare, rare visits to the apartment.

Even so, the amount of message icons he was presented with was unexpected to say the least.

He raised his eyebrows, nearly humming in interest as he noted the time. Jesus Christ, these blackout curtains are really worth their salt if it was nearly noon.

Tapping into his messages, he found a trickle of anxiety rolling down his spine.

FRI AT 11:42PM

Babe

Hey where r u?

I gotta talk to you

SAT AT 12:00AM

Babe

Are you coming back?? Srs need to talk

Feb 5 12:00AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:02AM

Gene Roe

Hi Joe, it’s Gene. idk if i gave you my number?

Trying to get a hold of you, call/text when you get a chance

Thanks

SAT AT 12:20AM

C h u c k

Babe is trying to find you

Feb 5 12:30AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:50AM

Speirs Ron

Why am i getting texts at 12:45 at night asking me to find you?

Well, something is fucking happening. And he’s at least 100% sure he wants no fucking part of it because any drama that starts after 11p.m. is the drama of the goddamn devil.

Fighting not to heave an enormous sigh, Joe reluctantly acknowledges that he should pull his clothes on and get out of here if there really is an emergency in the vicinity of his roommate. Looking back over his naked shoulder Joe tries to catch a glance at the guy in the bed, at the length of his bare leg in the semi-darkness, and the angle of his shoulder protruding from the blankets where he curled. He’d happily get back in that bed and go another round or five.

As though alerted to Joe’s presence by the cosmos, his phone begins buzzing in his hand. Huffing in annoyance, he attempts to reject the call at least until he can get out of the room, but throws himself off kilter and bangs his elbow into the bedside table, jostling a glass of water and a pile of paperbacks.

“Shit,” he curses, grasping at his elbow and shooting a glance back to the guy, whose eyes are already open and alerted to the noise.

Damn it.

The guy blinks slowly, bleary, for a moment before pulling his face from his pillows and angling up onto his side. “Hi,” he greets softly, running a hand through his mussed hair.

“Hi,” Joe nods back, grimacing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The guy shakes his head, looking for all intents and purposes like he means it. “Not at all,” he sniffs, meeting Joe’s eyes in the darkness with a still-sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“Oh man, it’s like noon.”

Furrowing his brow, the guy nods back before shooting Joe a wry smile. “We tired ourselves out, huh?”

Joe laughs, seeing his phone light up in his hand with a new message. “Speak for yourself.”

At the interested quirk of the other man’s brow Joe hastily gives a shake of his head and stands. “I’ll get out of your hair quick, no worries, just be a minute.”

The guy frowns, sitting up in the bed to let the blankets pool around his hips, hands coming to rest between his legs. “Oh, well, don’t feel like you have to.”

Joe pauses, pants in hand. “Oh, it’s not -”

“I mean, if you want to go then for sure, but like…” the guy waves a hand, pursing his lips before smiling and coughing out a laugh. “Are you hungry? I have eggs, I can make you something before you go.”

He hesitates, eyes pivoting from the guy, to his phone still in his hand, and back to the guy and his open, expectant face. After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, I could eat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could, could you?”

The guy smiles, and even in this mostly dark room Joe can see he has dimples and has to hold himself back from practically swooning, cursing his half-drunk self of the night prior for not remembering exactly how attractive this guy was. “I could use some coffee, is what I can use,” he says, stretching his arms over his head, and Joe is treated to the sight of his bare, bitten up chest. Usually he doesn’t take much notice of his partner's body hair, but as he lets his eyes trace over the guy's chest and legs as he moves to stand he finds himself clearing his throat and getting a little warm along his neck.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he responded distractedly, pulling his eyes away from the luscious sight of the guy's ass as he bends to retrieve his underwear and instead moving to put his own on. After a second thought he pulls on his shirt as well; might do him some good if he finds himself flushing up at just a glimpse of this guy's ass.

As he slips his shirt over his head, the guy turns to him with a bit of a sheepish look on his face. “Can I admit something?” he asks, lips scrunched.

Joe pauses, still grasping the hem of his shirt. “What?”

“I…” he starts, before chuckling somewhat awkwardly. “I don’t totally remember your name...”

A fair bit of relief surges through him at that, and Joe finds himself huffing out a laugh of his own, and adds another one at the half-embarrassed and half-expectant smile the guy gives him. “Can I admit something back?”

“What?”

“I don’t remember yours either.”

The guy's eyes widen minutely, before he tips his head back and laughs, nodding gently as he rubs a hand over his face. “Is it bad manners to say that’s a relief?”

“I think it’s alright as long as neither of us care,” Joe said, pushing his hair back, before stepping up to the guy and extending a hand. “I’m Joe.”

The guy grasped his hand in a sure grip. “David,” he replied with a little shake of their hands, before leaning in and pressing a dry kiss to Joe’s cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

Joe turned his face into David’s, catching his lips in a tender, if chaste, kiss. “Nice to meet you.”

#webgott #modern!au #it's my personal hc that joe not only loves to be in bed but is Very particular about it #mentioned:baberoe #this AU sponsored by Kim Crawford

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lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

brunch // steve rogers

↳ request: oh requests are open? can I get a possesive stevie with a soft bratty spoiled reader? i'm sorry I'm such a hoe @donutloverxo

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: i am a whore in a woman’s shoes and that is all

you’ve got plans this morning. it’s rare for you to be the one vying to get out of bed but you’d promised bucky last week that you’d meet him for brunch today, and since it’s his first time going, you want this experience to be a lot of fun for him.

(tony offered, but you knew that it would be a dire mistake if you left the genius billionaire in charge of it because he would’ve scared the poor man off)

regardless, you’re proud of bucky - he’s finally growing into his hollow shell, making it a point to go out of his comfort zone and broaden his horizons.

so you’ll be damned if the sleepy - but still so strong? - supersoldier curled against your body with his arms wound tightly around your waist will stop his girlfriend from showing his best friend a really good time.

(now that you really take it into consideration, that doesn’t sound quite right)

but you don’t care because steve’s being selfish and while any other time it would make you undeniably aroused, this is bucky and you don’t want to disappoint him. you hate that kicked puppy look in his steel-blue eyes, one that you recognize all too well because it’s the same look that you use to guilt-trip your stevie.

“steve, i gotta go get ready,” you murmur, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. he’s still hiding those baby blues from you, long eyelashes resting light against his skin.

you watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows knit together and he pushes out his full lips into a tiny little pout. it almost makes you want to coo at him.

faster than you can comprehend, he’s flipped you around so that his chin is resting on your shoulder. he presses his lips to the bare skin of your shoulder and then settles back down behind you, evidently with no intention of moving.

“no, baby,” he grumbles, the sound reverberating in his chest and, by extension, the column of your spine. a shockwave of pleasure runs through you at the feeling, your cunt clenching completely shamelessly because his voice in the morning is by far the most sinful thing that you’ve ever heard TM.

it sounds like sandpaper, warm and rich and grating against the sharp edges of your stubbornness and sanding it down bit by bit until there’s nothing but smooth corners and round sides.

you don’t have to turn around to know that the ghost of a smug little smirk is etched onto his face when he feels you shiver against the hard planes of his body.

“you like that, hmm, doll?” he speaks again, lips right against your ear and the register of his voice somehow even lower than before. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

“stevie,” you whine petulantly, your core throbbing again because he knows exactly what he’s doing and it’s not fair.

“tell you what, honey,” one of his hands leaves your waist to trail up and down your leg, the featherlight touches making your sensitive skin burn under his fingers. “you stay with me and i’ll speak to you like this all,” he draws out the word as his teeth catch on your earlobe, “you want, hmm?”

there he goes with the sandpaper again, patiently working away and getting almost embarrassingly close to wearing you down completely. yet something about the sultry drawl of his brooklyn accent makes you snap out of it because you’re supposed to be meeting bucky-

so you take advantage of his slack hands and wiggle out of his hold, jumping out of your shared bed and making a beeline toward the bathroom.

(you don’t dare look over your shoulder in fear of the rage that you know will be written all over his handsome face, so you only throw a sorry, daddy! at him before locking the door)

and when you step out in the outfit that you’d left in there last night, steve’s hazy blue eyes clear of their tired fog and become as bright as the sun shining through the slit between your drawn curtains. he stretches his arms out - you can’t help but stare at the muscles rippling underneath his skin - before resting them behind his head.

his feigned nonchalance is almost entirely transparent; his eyes staying glued to your body while you fiddle with the silk ties on your top and the way that he runs his tongue over his lower lip doesn’t go unnoticed despite the fact that you’re slightly preoccupied.

“where’re you goin’ anyway, sweetheart?” his gaze roams downwards, lingering on the light and breezy material of your pink skirt.

“brunch,” you reply softly, not even sparing him a glance because why did you buy this shirt if you have no idea how to fucking put it on.

“right - with nat?” he says, squinting when he sees the stretches of exposed skin on your legs. his hand snakes underneath the covers and you’re fighting the upwards quirk of your lips as he so obviously palms at his erection.

“no, with bucky,” you throw out carelessly, proud of yourself because you’ve finally managed to wrap the white blouse around your body, tying the back into a bow. as you look up, you lift an eyebrow at the amount of unexpected cleavage it shows

(but you’re not complaining because it looks so pretty)

your reflection makes you notice that you’re missing earrings and a necklace still, and some rings or something wouldn’t hurt…

what you’ve failed to notice is how heavy the silence in the room has gotten, the tension almost visible between the two of you. it’s when you retrieve your silver hoops that you realize that steve has gone awfully quiet, and you’re in the middle of putting the second one on when you meet his stare in the mirror.

he’s now sitting up more than before, still slouching lazily while he watches you in a way that you can only describe as predatory. where steve’s eyes are usually the purest baby blue in the mornings, they’re now far past blueberries and into the territory of being the color of the hudson at night.

it makes your eyes double in size as you watch him, his hand continuing to rub at his cock through the thin material of his boxers.

(the sight alone is ruining your new thong and you don’t even have the heart to be mad about it)

“bucky, huh?” is all he says, pulling his lower lip between his teeth briefly.

“yeah,” your voice is quiet but you know that he can hear it perfectly well. you also know that he can probably smell your arousal from where he’s sitting, a fact that doesn’t make you as embarrassed as you maybe should be. “told you last week.”

“must’ve forgotten,” he brushes you off dismissively, blatantly staring at the curve of your ass. “you always get dressed up this pretty for buck, baby?”

“no,” your response is shaky and you still haven’t turned around yet, continuing your conversation entirely with the reflection of your boyfriend sprawled out on the bed behind you.

you decide that he looks like something out of a playgirl magazine and you love it.

“you tryna impress bucky, sweetheart?” he probes with a jerk of his head, one of the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “wanna dress all pretty and go be bucky’s little slut, hmm, baby? what happened to daddy?”

this makes you audibly choke

(you can’t help but think that you’d like to choke on only one thing right now)

but steve pushes on like he never heard you.

“i thought you were daddy’s good baby. now you wanna be a little whore for daddy’s best friend? is that it, honey? leavin’ daddy here alone to go be a dirty fuckin’ slut for bucky? daddy was gonna let you ride his cock, baby, but maybe you should go ride bucky’s instead.”

you can’t deny the way that his condescending voice makes you grip onto your dresser for dear life, your legs threatening to give out underneath you as your skin overheats with desire.

but you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next - he’s set it up too perfectly for you.

“maybe I will, daddy.”

you know that he likes it when you mess with him, wind him up so tight that the spring inside his chest is in danger of popping off at any second. it gives him an excuse to fuck you into his mattress with your hands tied behind your back as you beg him to let you cum

(not that he needs one)

so when you think about it, the punishment that you’ll get for this is really for the both of you. you’re doing him a favor.

it’s too bad that you can’t say the same about your ass.

what feels like instantaneously, he’s up right behind you, pushing his very obvious erection against your ass.

your waist is trapped between his hands until a hard smack lands on your ass, one that makes you jolt forward so hard that everything neatly lined up on top of your chest of drawers shakes and falls.

you don’t even have the time to gasp before his thick thumb is shoved between your lips, the pad resting on your tongue as he strokes it gently.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, rutting into you harder and faster, his other hand roughly flipping up your skirt at the front to grab your cunt possessively. “my dumb little baby. you need me to remind you who this pussy belongs to? need daddy to tell you who owns your cunt, babydoll?”

his words make you clench in anticipation and the warmth of his hand seeping through the lace of your soaked panties makes your next words come easy.

“yes, daddy.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel blurb #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 3 years

Text

Rewind Chapter 11 - Epilogue

“Will I remember any of this?”

Ford paused, hands stilling on his workbench as he considered the question. “…I don’t know.”

Stan swung his legs idly from where he was perched on another table in Ford’s lab, watching the nerd fiddle with his vials. One of them had a glimmering rainbow liquid in it that kinda looked like unicorn blood. “You said when I was an adult we were fighting. Do you think we’re just gonna keep fighting?”

“We’ll always be fighting a little bit.” Ford hedged.

“No, I mean real fighting. Not just arguments and stuff.”

“Then… no, not if I have any say in it.”

:readmore:

“Good.” Stan folded his arms. “Adult me kinda sounds like a jerk, so you gotta tell him I said to be nice. And you’ve been kind of a jerk too, so you also have to be nice.”

“I doubt a grown-up you will follow the instructions of a baby.”

“Hey! I’m not a baby!” Stan found a crumpled piece of paper nearby and lobbed it at Ford’s head. He missed, but it was the thought that counted. Ford let out a huff.

“Don’t throw things when I’m working with chemicals, Stanley. Unless you want me to spill it on myself and also turn into a baby. Then who would cure you?”

“Not a baby!”

Stan didn’t throw anything else, though. Only because there was nothing nearby to throw.

“I honestly don’t know how much you’ll remember.” Ford admitted after a while, twirling a test tube to mix its contents. It looked pretty boring for what was basically a magic potion, just clear and grey. It wasn’t even bubbling. “You might completely forget everything that happened when you were de-aged. In which case, I don’t know how I’ll explain everything.”

“Just start with the story of how I defeated an evil dream demon. It’s the coolest part.”

“It’s the most exciting part of the story,” Ford allowed, “But not the best place to start.”

“It’s the hook! That’s the best part of a story, you know.”

Ford lifted the boring test tube up to inspect it in the light. When Stan looked closer, it didn’t seem as clear – as he watched it was slowly getting cloudier, more silver than grey. He vaguely remembered something about that from science class – did that mean there was a chemical reaction? Or a physical reaction? He could never remember the difference between them.

Ford stared pensively at the vial, and after a few moments Stan cleared his throat. “Is that it?”

“Yes.” Ford started to turn to him and then hesitated again. “You just have to drink this to go back to your real age. I… hm. Are you ready? Do you want to have something to eat first? Or maybe go to bed and have it in the morning?”

Stan blinked. “It’s gonna make me older again, right? Why wait?”

“Well, I don’t know.” When Stan made grabby hands Ford relented and handed over the vial. It was cold to the touch, like it had just come from the fridge. Stan stared at the thick, silvery liquid and wondered what it would taste like. “When you touched water from the spring of youth you passed out for several hours. The same thing could happen now, so we should move you somewhere comfortable before you drink-”

Stan tipped the vial and swallowed its contents in one big gulp. Ford shrieked.

“Stanley! Why would you do that?”

It tasted kinda like dirty, metallic oranges and Stan screwed up his face. “Ew! Couldn’t you at least make it taste nice?”

Ford retorted something, but the sounds were a bit wobbly in his ears. Stan blinked hard to try and make his vision make sense. It was just a little bit off, fuzzy in the corners of his vision.

“…getting dizzy?” Ford’s voice swam through the air, thick and swampy, like Stan was breathing treacle. “…lie down…”

And then, quick as blinking, he was on the floor. That was rude, for the world to just flip over like that. Everything was clouds and Stan was very, very sleepy.

Something else was said, but he was too far away to hear it.

_______________________________________________________________

When consciousness came – and it did come, as much as Stan wished he could sleep forever, dragging him up from the depths of hazy dreams he couldn’t remember – he knew exactly where he was.

There were soft sheets against his back, the faint whistle of wind through the pines outside, the taste of copper on his tongue. The spare bed felt smaller, now, and when his head shifted his stubbly cheek scratched against the pillow. It smelled faintly like dust.

“Stan? Are you waking up?”

Okay, that was Ford’s voice. But, there was still the possibility that this had all been a weird, vivid dream! That’s right, everything from the last couple days had been a dream. There were no gnomes, no dream demons, and in a moment Stan would open his eyes and be back inside the Stanleymobile.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking at the assault of light, and saw his brother’s face looking back at him.

…shit.

“Stan? Are you alright?” Ford was tapping his cheek, looking for a reaction. Stan grumbled and brushed him away.

“I’m fine. Hands off the merchandise.” His voice was rough with sleep, and Stan was almost surprised by how deep and gravelly it was compared to the childish squeaking he’d been doing lately.

Ford made a face, somewhere between worried and amused – an expression that Stan was familiar with from the last couple days. Dammit. He just had to remember all that. Ugh, and now Ford would want to talk and get all mushy.

“I’m fine.” Stan repeated, with nothing else to say. He got up on his elbows, and a quick glance around the room confirmed they were in the spare room he’d been sleeping in the last couple days. Still, he asked. “Where are we?”

“How much do you remember?” Ford asked urgently, making Stan blink. “Since you arrived here, I mean.”

“Uh… nothing.” He lied, like a liar. Ford’s face fell.

“…oh.”

Yeah, there was no way he could tell the truth here. He would die of embarrassment if he had to admit he remembered acting like a child and being all…sappy. Ford would look at him all weird and they would have to talk and that was just… ugh.

“Yep! I just remember getting here and then – poof! Nothing.” Stan went for a carefree laugh. “Man, did I get hit on the head with a coconut or something?”

Ford lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, looking crestfallen. “No, not quite. Do you – remember the argument we had?”

Nope, nope, feelings alert. Stan did not want to delve into that conversation.

“What argument? Probably about you being a nerd, huh? Jeez, am I hungry, you got any food in this joint?”

“Wha-”

Stan was already throwing the covers off (thank god he was wearing a nightrobe underneath, he didn’t think his pride could survive another hit). Ford spluttered as he got to his feet.

“Will you slow down?”

______________________________________________________________

After a couple tests which were obviously unnecessary (but Ford insist on anyway, the nerd) Stan was finally free to pull on some actual clothes and follow Ford to the kitchen. He hadn’t been lying earlier, hunger really was gnawing in his stomach, and he made a beeline for the fridge.

“-and so you were reverted back into a child,” Ford continued. The guy had absolutely no showmanship. Way to lose an audience, Stan muttered to himself as he grabbed the fridge door. He’d told him to start with the demon bit, but noooo. “That was a couple days ago. There have been some – well, it’s been eventful. I doubt you’ll believe me if I told you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“By the way, my friend is on his way.” Ford added. Stan ducked down to inspect the fridge’s contents – at least it was better stocked than when he first arrived. He hummed in acknowledgement. “You – well, I suppose you won’t remember him. You’ll like him though. You did.”

“Is he a nerd liked you?”

Ford snorted.

Stan grabbed a box of leftover pasta and then went in search of a fork. “Well, let’s hope this Fiddleford guy can tell stories better than you, ya almost put me to sleep with the way you tell it.”

When he turned around, Ford was staring at him.

It took a moment for him to realize his mistake – by the time Stan opened his mouth to spew out some bullshit excuse, Ford was pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I didn’t tell you his name!”

“Yes you did!” Stan spluttered. “I mean, how else would I know his name unless you told me, huh? You ever think about that?”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Stanley.”

“Stanford.” He parroted right back. The staring match continued for a few moments before Ford threw up his hands.

“Unbelievable! You’re such a liar.”

Stan took a large bite of pasta. Because he was hungry, not because he didn’t want to answer. Ford glared at him.

“I should have known you’d try to wriggle your way out of this. ‘I don’t remember’ my ass. What, were you just going to leave and pretend none of this ever happened?”

Stan shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“Don’t think you can avoid talking with me. We are having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

‘No, we’re really not’ is what Stan meant to say. Unfortunately, the moment he took a breath to speak he started choking. Ford scowled and thumped him on the back as he coughed, getting bits of pasta all over the kitchen floor.

“Unbelievable.” The nerd said again.

Well, so much for that.

_______________________________________________________________

Stan squirmed under his brother’s glare – the whole ‘pacing and towering over him while Stan sat on the couch like a scolded child’ schtick was uncannily similar to what their mother would do when they earned her ire.

“So.” Ford began. “You remember childhood.”

“Yep.” Stan grumbled.

“Your adult life?”

“Mm hm.”

“The last couple days here and everything that occurred while you were reverted?”

“Mm.”

Ford stopped his pacing to turn to him. “Then why on earth did you try to pretend you didn’t? We even made up!”

Stan buried his face in his hands to try and hide its burning. “I don’t know! I knew you’d try and get all…” He shuddered. “Mushy. Feeling-y.”

Stan could just feel the flat look his brother was giving him.

“Okay, fine, look. You forgave me for breaking your project, I forgave you for being a jerk. We’re good. Now, I’m just gonna head home-”

“You’re homeless.”

“You don’t know that!” Stan looked up from behind his hands to see Ford folding his arms. “I could have a, a house, a mansion even!”

“You have a mullet.”

…okay, Ford had him there. Stan scowled. “What’s the plan then, smart guy?”

Ford’s eyes gleamed, and he immediately regretted asking.

“I’m glad you asked, Stanley! I’ve had plenty of time to think over these last couple days. First of all, the Duskertons are looking for someone to help around their store, and no one in Gravity Falls cares much about credentials – I’m pretty sure the man who works at the post office is just a bunch of gnomes in a trench coat – so your lack if identification shouldn’t be a problem if you’re looking for a job. There’s also Boyish Dan, his family owns a logging company and I’m sure you could get a place there if you wanted. You’re welcome to stay in my house for as long as you need – I’m sure there are some places in town if you want to rent instead, though. If you choose to stay I might ask for your help in some of my research, since Fiddleford has decided to take a break from studying Gravity Falls, which I don’t blame him for.”

Stan blinked, but Ford wasn’t finished, ticking things off on his fingers as he went.

“I’ll also need to keep you under observation for a while to ensure that there are no side effects from the fountain of youth water, so I’ll ask you to stay around for at least a couple days. If you decide to leave Gravity Falls after that period, you’ll need to give me your phone number so we can keep contact. Oh, scratch that, I’ll make a new one – I’m sure I can work up a design that isn’t as flimsy as the current models going around.”

“Uh-”

Stan was saved from having to answer (answer? There wasn’t much of a question but Ford was looking at him expectantly and he didn’t know what he was supposed to say) by a light knock on the door. Ford perked up and rushed to answer it.

“Am I intruding?” Fiddleford’s hesitant voice rang out. Ford shook his head and stood aside to usher the smaller man inside.

“Not at all, come in. It’s good to see you.”

Fiddleford stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Stan on the couch.

Ugh, he was already getting a headache. Now came the judgement. Stan looked like a mess, he knew he did – unshaven, with bags under his bloodshot eyes and ragged hair and old scars crisscrossing his arms. Some small, childish part of him wanted to jump up and hug the guy. Gross. Instead he shoved down the nervousness, stood, and gave him a lazy two-fingered salute.

“…Stanley?” Fiddleford tilted his head, eyes scanning him. Stanley shrugged uncomfortably. It was weird, towering over the small guy like this.

“Hey.”

“Well, you grew up big. The spittin’ image of yer brother.” Fiddleford gave a little smile and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure meetin’ ya, officially this time.”

“Eh, you too.” Stan shook the offered hand. It was small, frail, but gripped his firmly.

“So are you stickin’ around?”

Stan hesitated. He glanced from Fiddleford’s earnest face, to his own rough hand, to Ford’s careful expression – the look of someone trying hard not to look like they were listening.

“…yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna stick around.”

#rewind #gravity falls #The stans #epilogue

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