#two-ball bowling bag

[anto-pops]

Anyone order love confessions and first time smut ?? No ????

[chirasul]

you finish the post

[woso-dreamzzz]

Camp II

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first time staying at Sweden Camp

Sometimes, when there's an international break, you get to visit Sweden Camp.

You stay at Denmark Camp with Momma usually because you go everywhere with her but you get to go to Sweden Camp sometimes to visit Morsa and the other girls.

At first, it was because it was easier to stay in Denmark with Momma so you could go home to Germany together. When you moved to England and started living with Morsa, you still went with Momma to Denmark because it was what you were used to.

But now, as you touch down in Sweden with Morsa, you're a little confused as to why Momma has not come with you. It's a bit weird that she's getting a different flight to Sweden than you and Morsa but she must still need to finish packing up the stuff from the house in preparation for the big move back to Germany.

That must be it because you can't think of any other reason why she's not with you now.

You stew over it as the car pulls up and Morsa helps you out of the car seat and grabs the bags.

Cameras click as the two of you walk into the training centre, where Morsa gets the keys to the room she's going to share with moster Frido.

It's a bit different to the room she usually gets, you realise when she steps in. Usually, there are two single beds but now there's a double and a single.

That's a little weird but you think it must be because Morsa's used to sleeping in bed with Momma now and needs someone to lay with her until she falls asleep.

It's nice of Frido to go that before she falls asleep but you reckon they could have just put the two beds together to make a double rather than moving in a double just so Frido can help Morsa get to sleep.

"Morsa," You whine, laying back on her bed and kicking your legs," I'm bored."

Magda rolls her eyes, focusing more on unpacking all of your things so you won't have to live out of a suitcase until the flight to Australia. "In a little bit, princesse," She says," I'm just doing something."

"So bored!" You continue, rolling back and forth around the bed to show her just how bored you truly are," Do it later!"

Magda smothers her laughter, folding the last of your clothes and putting it in the dresser. "Alright, I'm done. No need to get grouchy!"

"I'm not grouchy!"

Magda laughs, rolling her eyes at you fondly before grabbing the key card. "Are you coming or not? It's time for lunch."

You're off the bed quickly, nearly falling over in your haste for food. You'd denied having any plane food during the flight because you don't like it so you're practically starving when you get downstairs, barely saying hello to everyone before you dart towards the buffet.

"She seems perky," Frido chuckles as she watches you grab a plate.

"She was very bored as I unpacked," Magda says," She'll run off the energy while we train."

"Morsa!" You call," They've got pasta!" You're trying to spoon spaghetti onto your plate but it keeps slipping back into the bowl. "Help, please!"

"Coming."

Magda's right of course. You end up running off all your energy at training, darting after stray balls and having a little practice session of your own with the other keepers.

That's what gets you to this point, sitting cross-legged on Magda's bed as Frido's in the shower.

You frown as Magda pulls out a towel and your pyjamas.

She's talking as she rummages around looking for something. "We can only have one story tonight," She tells you," Because it's late and it's going to take time to run your bath. Frido takes ages in the shower. I told her to start running it when she gets out, just so we've got a bit of a head start."

You frown deepens, a little crinkle appearing between your brows. "Why've I got to get in the bath?"

Magda smiles fondly at you, affectionately brushing a hand over your hair. "Because you've been running around all day and having fun. You're dirty."

That makes sense, you guess. You don't want to get on the plane with Momma to Denmark all dirty.

But the pyjamas confuse you. You don't want to get on a plane in your pyjamas.

You tell Morsa that too.

It's Magda's turn to frown now. "Why are you getting on a plane, princesse?"

You sigh. Morsa's being weird.

"Because it's too long to get to Denmark if we drive!" You tell her," We always get the plane to Denmark!"

"You're not going to Denmark."

"Yes I am! I always go to Denmark Camp! Always!"

"Well not this time," Magda says, sitting down on the bed next to you," You're staying with me in Sweden and then we're going to Australia for the World Cup."

You frown only gets deeper. "But why? Momma's going to the World Cup too."

"Well, we thought it would be fun if you stayed with me during the World Cup," Magda explains," You'll still see Momma but it just means that you get to come home to me and you can practice with Zećira. Is that alright?"

You think it over for a moment.

It's a little weird to not being going to Denmark with Momma but you think that it's okay because you have the Swedish girls instead like Frido and Zećira.

"It's alright," You say to Morsa," But do I really have to get in the bath?"

It shocks a laugh out of her. "Yes, princesse, you have to get in the bath."

[ghxst-guts]

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

living a farmer's life with wanda

𐙚 wanda would start off every morning by brushing your hair. then you'd go off and feed your little bunnies.

𐙚 you were so adorable, the best part of wanda's morning was seeing how much joy your little pets brought to you.

𐙚 another thing which brought wanda joy was going flower picking with you. she'd dress the two of you in sundresses, braid your hair and put bows in them. god you looked so cute like that.

𐙚 the way your eyes would perk up when she found your favorite blue flower. or how'd you close your eyes, bring the flowers to your nose and just take in it's scent.

𐙚 one particular morning, wanda woke you up with blueberry pancakes, which was also your favorite. you woke up to her mixing the pancake batter.

𐙚 you were so darn sleepy, practically balling your fists towards your eyes. "ah. ah. ah." wanda shook her head, putting the bowl with mix down. she gently grabbed your hands and hummed softly.

𐙚 you took this as a sign to koala bear wrap yourself over her. she let out a quiet chuckle and brought her lips towards your forehead.

𐙚 which is what led you to your current situation. wanda had gone to the market and your tummy started to growl. wanda left you a note while you were asleep, saying she'd headed to the market because you were out of bread.

𐙚 you were not at all a good chef like wanda was. covered in flour from when the bag exploded on you and not knowing wanda's recipe, you were doomed from the start.

𐙚 the door knob rattled. oh no, wanda was home. she couldn't see you like this, you ran to your shared bedroom.

𐙚 'babydoll?" wanda spoke, her eyes scanning the room for you. she left the grocerys down by the door and her eyes met the mess you left in the kitchen. ah, now she sees what happened.

𐙚 she follows your flour footprints which led to the bedroom. "hey bunny, i'm back. are you hungry? did mommy forget to make you food before she left?" wanda tried to coax you out of the room.

𐙚 you sighed, opening the door. "oh baby... want mama to help you get cleaned up then fix you a bite to eat? does that sound good, my sweet girl?" wanda cooed, bringing a thumb up to your cheek. It swiped the layer of flour left on your cheek.

wanda's masterlist

[wileys-russo]

Hey could i request a fic?

Maybe one where teenreader who plays for barça or arsenal gets a nose piercing behind alexia or leahs back ?

just putting this in the same universe and reader as stuck tiny silver flash II barça femeni x teen!r

"there is one other place i wanna go!" you piped up as jana had her car keys in hand, both her and bruna's arms laden with shopping bags as you motioned for them to follow you.

"pollito is this going to take long? i think my arms are going to fall off!" bruna groaned as you rolled your eyes. "nobody told you to buy half the clothes in here bru, sounds like a you problem." you quipped making jana snicker and her best friend kick at her with a scowl.

"what are we doing here? are you getting a hair cut?" jana questioned with a frown as you stopped outside a local salon. "oo you should get bangs! or dye it pink, or blue, or purple, or red, or-" bruna started to ramble before jana's free hand covered her mouth with a sigh.

"not exactly." you smiled innocently as both of their eyes narrowed. "why do i get the feeling we're being dragged into one of her little trouble making schemes." bruna mumbled to jana once her mouth was freed again, jana nodding tiredly in agreement as they both continued in after you.

"wait here, i won't be long." you promised as a worker guided you off and out of their sights. "should we have let her go off with a stranger? is that bad babysitting? was that responsible?" bruna questioned after a minute had passed, jana just shrugging as the two of them took a seat just outside the store on a bench in the middle of the shopping complex.

though when you finally resurfaced it confirmed her question that yes, this was in fact bad babysitting.

"dios mio what is that in your face pequeña!" you rolled your eyes as jana dropped her bags and hurried over to grab your cheeks, turning your head left and right with wide eyes.

"its just a nose stud compañero!" you brushed off both her and bruna's fussing. "how did you do this? did you forge someones signature?" jana questioned again in disbelief. "fraud is a crime pollito, you could go to prison!" bruna added on with a gasp as again your eyes rolled.

"relájese! está bien chica's. you have to be eighteen for a tattoo, sixteen for a piercing." you corrected with a grin, having been planning this for awhile now.

"they are going to kill you so i hope it was worth it pollito." bruna sighed and she didn't have to drop a name for you to know exactly who she was talking about. "i will hide it till it heals, then if they make me take it out it will not close, ningún problema." you shrugged carelessly.

"but you cannot take it out for a few weeks while it heals, sí? what about games? training? you also live with capi!" jana asked, crossing her arms and staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

"engaño." you smiled patting to your shopping bag full of makeup, patting them both on the cheek and striding off toward the exit.

"dios mio jana i was right. she has dragged us into one of her little schemes! estamos tan muertos." bruna moaned throwing her head back and dragging her hands down her face.

"hey! listen to me amiga." brunas eyes widened as jana balled her top in her fists, holding her tightly and yanking her forward so they were nose to nose, the fear obvious in both their eyes.

"the story you posted today? delete it. the ticket for the parking? burn it. the new clothes you bought? hide them. nobody can ever, ever, ever know we brought her here bruna. vale?" jana warned sternly as bruna nodded frantically and her best friend let her go as they hurried after you.

"oye, compañero i think this might be worse than when we got her and vicky drunk at bowling and they threw up everywhere." "imbécil! bruna what part of 'never speak of it again' do you not understand??"

~

you'd managed to keep your secret for a whole whopping two days by the time training rolled around, which was a god given miracle considering you lived full time with your hawk eyed captain.

careful makeup blending and a flesh colored band aid you'd cut into a tiny circle had served well to hide your new addition, making sure to keep alexia at arms length so she couldn't get close enough to really look at you.

though she was so busy preparing for the weekends match and all the media that came with the el clásico it wasn't hard to slip under her radar for once.

but there was one person you worried might be able to see through your attempted deception, and of course she was the first person you ran into that morning at training, considering she had a nose piercing of her own.

trusting you enough to find your way to the change rooms once inside alexia had left you to your own devices as she hurried off for a quick meeting with all the captains, as was tradition the last session before a game.

"bon dia pollito!" you tried not to tense as aitana appeared beside you, having parked a few cars down in the lot from alexia. "hola tana." you greeted her with a smile, quick to snap your head back forward, grateful she was on your left side and the hidden stud on your right.

the two of you made small talk about your days off as you wandered through the training complex toward the change rooms, the girl of course taking every opportunity to tease you were shorter than her, something that was not very common for the midfielder in a team full of leggy spaniards and scandi's.

but as you turned to push her away and she tried to grab you in a headlock, you gave yourself up by accident.

"espere." the smile dropped from her face and you deflated as she grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back and immediately spotting the backing of the stud in your nostril with a small gasp of surprise.

"tana!" you whined trying to pull away as her grip tightened and she shook her head before letting you go. "estúpida, is this new?" aitana questioned, sending you a warning glare not to be dishonest.

"maybe." you mumbled, giving her a smile as charming as you could muster as she hummed and went to walk off. "don't tell anyone, por favor tana por favor! i will do anything." you zipped around to block her path and begged, clasping your hands together.

"anything?" "anything, promesa! just do not tell, especially not alexia." you pleaded desperately. "vale pollito, i will keep your little secret." aitana started as you breathed out in relief.

"but, for a price." aitana smiled and the twinkle in her eyes had your guard up a little but you knew she had you against the ropes. “and what’s that?” you asked albeit apprehensively.

“no more messing with my things, no more letting mapi mess with my things, no more waking me up on the bus or the plane or the train with the ‘oh tana im bored entertain me!’, no more kicking the ball at my head or the back of my seat, no more squirting water at me and no more giving me the finger with the ‘oh look tana a bird!’. vale?” the older girl raised an eyebrow sternly as you nodded rapidly.

“vale, vale, vale. gracias!” you sighed in relief, squishing her in a hug as she chuckled and patted your back before you let her go, the two of you resuming your walk to the change rooms.

entering the change rooms you flashed a few smiles around as you sat at your cubby, pulling off your trainers and stashing them away as you rifled through your training bag trying to find the medical tape you knew was in there, your ankle a little tight today.

"bon dia pequeña mentirosa." a body dropped next to you, mapi grinning and kissing your cheek as you gagged jokingly and pushed her away, her locker next to yours.

"stop that. i will do it!" mapi rolled her eyes at your attempts to tape up your ankle, pulling your leg up onto her lap as you handed the tape. "something troubling you pollito?" mariona dropped down on your other side with a concerned frown.

"no, just a little tight today." you shook your head as now both older girls gave you a look, mapi strapping up your ankle. "está bien. if it feels off at all i will go see the physios, happy?" you looked between them as they nodded, mario messing up your hair and heading off for the pitch.

eyes roaming around the now half empty change rooms you caught aitana's eye who was talking with keira, and judging from the very slight narrow of the english womans eyes as they studied your face for a mere second or so longer than normal, you knew right away what they were discussing.

you shook your head at the midfielders, aitana sending you an apologetic smile and hurrying off before you could say anything, dragging keira along with her as you prayed to the high heavens both girls kept their mouths shut.

"what?" mapi chuckled seeing the strange look on your face, finishing up your ankle and glancing over her shoulder to try and see what you were looking at. "nothing, gracias maps." you smiled, pulling your leg back down.

"ingrid!" you called out to her girlfriend who was passing by, the norweigan raising an eyebrow as you held up a hair brush and smiled charmingly. "you could not have asked alexia at home?" ingrid chuckled as mapi kissed her cheek briefly and headed off to the pitch.

"alexia cannot even do her own hair, takes her about half an hour to slick it up into a ponytail." you rolled your eyes as ingrid started to brush through your hair, a comfortable silence falling between both of you as the rest of the team slowly filtered out.

"the baby can't do her own hair? awww." lucy teased, playfully kicking at your ankles with a grin as you tried to grab at her but winced as ingrid tugged on your hair in warning, still halfway through braiding it.

"oni!" you called out to your friend who turned around. "your girlfriend needs her leash and collar, she's acting out again." you sniped, lucy squaring up to you before ona rolled her eyes and pulled her away, chatsizing her quietly as lucy sent you a menacing glare as you gav her a fake scared face.

"you need to stop hanging around with maría so much liten, she is a bad influence." ingrid tapped your shoulders as she finished your hair. "she's your girlfriend!" you laughed as you stood, tucked into her side as the taller girls arm draped across you.

"i know, and every day she gives me reason to question why." ingrid sighed as you bumped into her. "no way, you two are so in love its disgusting." you gagged as ingrid playfully reached round to pinch your cheek.

"you will be in love one day liten, and i will be sure to remind your future partner that you think love is disgusting!" ingrid teased, letting go of you as you both smiled and gave a good morning to the social media admin filming the training arrivals.

"how do you know i'm not in love now? or that i will need a future partner?" you gave her a cheeky smile as her eyes widened. "are you-" you'd raced off before she could ask her question, the girl yelling after you that this conversation wasn't over.

"hola!" you launched yourself and near took jana down to the ground, her hands grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up into a proper piggyback with a grunt.

"i was thinking things were too quiet pollito, i was hoping you were sick and we might get a day off from babysitting." jana sighed dramatically as you scoffed. "babysitting! you need babysitting not me." you accused making her chuckle.

"i have to say pollito, you did a good job. if i did not know that you had the stud, i would not notice." bruna marvelled as jana promptly dropped you and grabbed the pair of you by the shirt, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

"what part of we do not speak of it did you not understand? nobody can know we took her there or that we knew about the stud!" jana warned bruna sternly who huffed and tried to pray her hands off her top.

"and you will not tell a soul we knew about it amiga, vale?" jana turned to you now, letting go of bruna and raising an eyebrow when you didn't speak, a roll of your eyes and a nod following.

"perfecta. remember compañero's, when in doubt; deny, deny, deny."

~

now your makeup and band aid combo may have done the trick for training, nobody batting so much as an eyelid of suspicion toward you.

but what you hadn't accounted for was your teammates being...themselves.

case in point; the water fight which broke out after training was finished.

you didn't think much of it at first, ducking out of the way of mapi's attack and launching your own on cata, laughing as patri and pina used you as a human shield, spraying lucy and mario over your shoulder as you copped the brunt of their own counter attack.

"vale! that is enough for today." alexia yelled out over the squabbles, though there was a hint of a smile on her face and you hadn't missed her spray her own bottle at a few of the younger girls when they weren't looking.

distracted by the feeling of your now soaking wet training top clinging uncomfortably to your body you snatched a towel off mapi, drying your face and arms and not giving it a second though.

that was when there was a tiny silver flash as your stud caught the sun and all hell broke loose.

"what is that?!" "a piercing?!" "who did that to you?!" "what did you put in your face?!" "you put a hole in your skin?!" "who said you could do that pollito?!"

your eyes widened at the questions fired at you one after the other, shrinking into yourself and starting to back away as the older girls advanced, mouths moving at rapid pace.

"don't you dare!" paños grabbed the back of your collar, snagging you as you tried to bolt, a hiss of pain leaving your mouth as alexia grabbed your ear next, dragging you inside and all sorts of angry spanish leaving her mouth.

"sit!" alexia pushed you to sit down at your cubby, flanked by ingrid, paños, irene and frido all glaring down at you. "when?" irene asked sternly as you huffed. "when what." you tried, the stony glares causing your stomach to flip.

"acting cute won't get out out of this one älska. the truth! now." frido warned sternly as you sighed, catching a few of the younger girls watching on curiously, but they all scattered as alexia met them with a hard stare.

"i got it on monday." you answered, looking down at the ground and pulling one knee to your chest, picking at your laces. "where?" alexia asked sharply. "a hair salon." you shrugged still refusing to look up but feeling their eyes burn into you.

"why?" ingrid questioned next. "looks cool and i can." you mumbled with a roll of your eyes. "don't you roll your eyes, drop the attitude." alexia warned as you huffed and mocked her quietly under your breath, whining as her hand smacked the back of your head.

"that hurt!" you rubbed it with a scowl as she now rolled her own eyes. "cannot have hurt more than putting a needle through your face pequeña." irene added on with a scoff as you fell silent again.

"i think it looks badass pollito." pina piped up from a few seats down, paling at the looks it earned her and hurrying over to hide behind patri.

"sí i agree, makes her look tough. which is hard with this cute little baby face!" mapi cooed as she appeared now, pinching your cheeks and admiring the small stud with a nod of approval that had you grinning.

"maría! stay out of it." alexia barked as the girl rolled her eyes, one of the few who wasn't scared (most times) of your fierce captain. "why? she is sixteen now. i had ear piercings at five!" mapi brushed off the issue ignoring her girlfriends eyes baring into her.

"ear sí, not face!" alexia scoffed crossing her arms across her chest. "its not like i got a forehead piercing, so dramatic." you muttered, shrinking and shuffling across a little closer to mapi at the glares which met it

"would you like to say that a little louder?" ingrid sent you a challenging look as her girlfriend wrapped an arm around you. "leave the nena be, it is one little stud. relajarse!" mapi waved them off again.

"who took you to get it nena? you do not drive." paños asked firmly as you couldn't help but let your eyes flicker briefly to jana and bruna who were frantically shaking their heads and waving their arms about. "deny, deny, deny!" jana mouthed at you.

but all it took was that brief millisecond for irene's head to snap around, catching both younger girls in the act as they froze. "you went shopping with the idiotas on monday!" alexia realised as now her head snapped around.

"we didn't know she was gonna do it we took our eyes off her for like a minute and she came back with it! promesa!" bruna blurted out as jana winced and smacked her hand against her forehead.

"you are the worst secret keeper ever!" jana hissed, both of them sprinting off as paños and irene chased after them. "you are taking it out älska." frido stated bluntly as you frowned. "no way!" you protested with a shake of your head.

"yes way. we can do this the easy way or the hard way älska, your choice." the swede warned as alexia and ingrid hummed their agreement and seeing them start to advice mapi's arm left you and she slid slowly away.

"mapi!" you gasped as she darted away. "traitor and a coward!" you yelled after her as she made a heart with her hands and hid behind lucy who rolled her eyes and pushed her away.

"easy or hard nena, choose." alexia warned firmly as you shook your head. "its not coming out, i paid for this!" you decided firmly, standing and holding your head high, hearing a few of the other girls whistle and shake their heads at your words.

"you get her legs, i get her arms, ale takes it out." frido instructed, all three girls nodding as you attempted a getaway, trying to climb up and over the small retaining wall of your cubby but being promptly dragged back down and restrained.

"did you even wash your hands! this is unsanitary alexia i could get an infection!" you yelled trying to squirm away but with no luck as alexia held your head still with one hand and you winced as with one little twist she'd plucked the stud from your nose.

"when we get home i'm searching your room for any other studs and they are being flushed down the toilet. get your bag!" alexia warned as you kicked away ingrid and frido with a scowl. "you're both on my list." you warned seriously, cata and salma oooohing at your words.

"you don't scare us liten." ingrid laughed unbothered, frido mirroring her expression with a smirk. "remember when mario lost an eyebrow? she was on my list." you spoke calmly, packing your belongings up.

"or when pina's cubby had that awful ant infestion? or patris car tyres kept magically deflating? also on my list." you slung your bag over your shoulder, smiling at the somewhat apprehensive looks now present on the tall scandis face.

"adios, traitors." you patted their shoulders as you passed, following after alexia. "pollito are we still on for-" mapi fell silent as your head whipped toward her. "you are also on the list, maría." you warned calmly, narrowing your eyes.

"i helped you create that list!" mapi gasped in disbelief. "sí, and now the student has become the master." you pointed at her menacingly, alexia growing impatient and grabbing you by the straps of your bag hauling you out of the change room.

"vamos pequeña, stop threatening everyone." alexia chuckled dragging you out with her to the carpark as you waved goodbye to a few of the staff, the older girl amused at how quickly your demeanor changed.

"they were not threats, they were promises." you huffed with a deep frown, kicking at a rock. "are you going to be moody and pouty all afternoon over a tiny little stud? estúpida." alexia cooed as you glared at her, sliding into the now unlocked cupra and tossing your bag in the back.

"do you want to be on the list ale?" you warned, shrinking at the fierce glare which it rewarded you with. "discúlpame?" the blonde asked scarily calm with a raised eyebrow. "nothing, lo siento." you mumbled sinking into her seat as she smirked and started up the car.

"buena nena, thats what i thought you said."

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, ��I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

[chalkscene]

can i request fruba’s reaction to the first time they hug you when the curse is broken without you knowing? like it’s a complete surprise and you’re so happy? thank you so much!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! i don’t usually take requests to take the pressure of writing off of me but i just loved this prompt sm i couldn’t say no 😭

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatori sohma & shigure sohma (separate)

after witnessing your failed attempts at making one rice ball, KYO suddenly decides to join you in the kitchen, “pay attention. i’ll only teach you once.” you fight back a smile because you know he’ll keep teaching you as long as you keep asking but you don’t point that out lest he change his mind. you expect kyo to grab a handful of rice. instead, he stands right behind you and cages you in his arms, putting his hands over yours to help you mold the clump of rice you already have in your palms. when you’re reminded of his curse, you quickly spin on your heels and push him away, dropping your rice ball in the process. to your surprise, kyo doesn’t seem remotely offended by your action. he’s more focused on the clusters of rice now scattered around your feet. a click of his tongue hits your ears before you hear him say, “you just wasted a good rice ball.” however, the expression on his face is free of disappointment—a small smile slowly curls on his lips as he waits for a realization to dawn on you and eventually, it does. “you’re…” you mutter in disbelief, caressing his face as if to convince yourself you’re not dreaming, “you’re not a cat…” at your reaction, kyo’s chuckles cuts through the momentary silence before he holds you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head in wordless confirmation—this is real. and you immediately return his affection, not wanting to wait another second to bask in his touch. you don’t know which higher power to thank but you still find yourself silently expressing your gratitude like a prayer now that kyo’s curse is lifted. when you pull away, he reaches for the bowl of rice behind you. “this isn’t enough for the two of us,” he deadpans as if a life-changing moment didn’t just happen. you’re itching to ask him when he knew but you deem it a conversation for another time when a suggestion suddenly pops in your head. “we can go out and celebrate instead,” you say cheekily, “i’ve always wanted to try this cat café.” kyo rolls his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “what?” you defensively exclaim in between giggles, “cats won’t cling to you anymore.”

ever since YUKI went away for college, the only time you’ve really had with each other is when he comes home to visit. you usually have an itinerary prepared but this time, yuki decides to ditch all that. “you have a surprise for me?” you teased him once on video call. yuki simply shrugged, laughing. you tried to coax it out of him but he didn’t budge. “if i told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he countered and when you gave him a pout, he added, “i’ll just see you at home, okay? i love you.” so here you are now, sat in your living room while you wait for yuki to arrive. thankfully, it’s not long before you hear a click from the lock of your front door. “yuki!” you beam at the sight of him and he immediately mirrors your expression. you’re about to take his bags when he swings them out of your reach, carelessly dropping his things to the floor before he snakes his arms around your middle. in a panic, you freeze in his touch and soon, you’re attempting to shove him off of you. “yuki, your curse!” you cry but he only snuggles further into your body. and that’s when it hits you. the boy you love hasn’t turned into a rodent which can only mean one thing—there’s no more curse. you don’t know when or how and as hard as you try, you’re unable to form words to ask yuki about it with your emotions beginning to take over you. yuki only chuckles at your lack of response, “surprise.”

snap. HATORI immediately stops in his tracks upon the sudden sensation, “did you feel that?” “huh?” hatori is almost sure what he felt but he decides to brush it off at your confusion. “tori, you okay?” you ask, raising your hands to cradle his face but he involuntarily flinches at the closeness in case it triggers the curse. “sorry,” you quickly add. he shakes his head, declining your apology, “it’s fine.” you don’t talk about it any further on the rest of the way home but you’ve already reached your doorstep and he still seems distracted. you don’t want to part ways like this so you try again, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he doesn’t answer. “hatori?” “can i…” he starts before trailing off hesitantly. he doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence. without a word, he steps closer until there’s barely an inch between you then he wraps you in his embrace. “hatori, no!” you try to push him away in panic but you catch yourself in that same instant when you realize he hasn’t turned into a seahorse. holding your breaths, you both wait in silence for the curse to take effect but the next thing you feel is hatori’s arms tightening around you, making it clear he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. before your emotions can get the better of you, a chuckle is bubbling past your lips in relief, releasing any tension that has filled the air. “you have a lot of cuddles to make up for,” you tease hatori but your voice comes out weakly as you keep your tears at bay. and with you in his arms, hatori has never felt so grateful, “then let’s stay like this for a little while.”

“hi,” you beam at SHIGURE the moment he enters your home, “how was your day?” he doesn’t answer right away as if to ponder your question. “it was…” he momentarily trails off before adding, “interesting.” your eyebrows knot in confusion and that’s when you notice something’s off about him but before you can pose another question, shigure leans closer until he’s almost just about your eye level. “can i have a kiss?” he asks before he’s pouting his lips, sporting an effective pair of puppy eyes as you would expect from the dog incarnate. but all that effort only earns him a dubious look from you which elicits a dramatic sigh out of his mouth, “you know i’ve had a long day.” you can’t help but snort at his sulking but you eventually grant him his request. you’re careful to maintain a distance to avoid triggering the curse but in a swift and sudden motion, shigure pulls you flush against him as he kisses you with more fervor. your poor attempt to push him away does little to nothing against his strong arms that he can’t help but smirk against your lips. soon, he’s pulling away, his visage looking brazen as ever, “what’s wrong?” completely stunned and stupefied, you struggle to form the words on your tongue but a single thought plays in your mind—the curse is broken. when your eyes begin to well up, shigure’s cocky grin is immediately replaced with a smile so sincere that it’s such a striking contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, “we can do whatever we want.” then he’s kissing you again.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner. 

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store. 

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship. 

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.” 

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks. 

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on. 

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum. 

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5. 

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for. 

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth. 

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison. 

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm. 

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have. 

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera. 

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate. 

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself. 

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around. 

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking. 

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly. 

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life. 

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables. 

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts. 

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room. 

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide. 

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue. 

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp. 

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today. 

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints. 

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied. 

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

 “That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day. 

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. 

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is. 

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom. 

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight. 

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust. 

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl. 

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing. 

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.” 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch. 

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence. 

--

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[simp999]

Lazy Day.

Knuckles The Echidna (movie/tv series) x reader

Sypnosis: Imagine being the first person to help knuckles finally truly relax.

Series: Knuckles (tv series)/ The Sonic Movies

Wc: 1.1k

Themes: Fluff, comfort, can be seen as platonic or romantic.

Note: Takes place in episode 1 of the Knuckles series

Masterlist

“That’s it, I’m gonna be late for work. You two,” Mrs. Wakowski gestures towards Sonic and Tails, “keep away from Knuckles.” 

“Roger that!” Sonic salutes dramatically, and Tails follows suit,

“Noted, Mrs. Wakowski,”

Mrs. Wakowski manages to phone another friend to give her a ride to work, still fuming, while Sonic shrugs and figures he’ll spend time with Tails. They leave the house to go for a walk- it was a beautiful day after all. Sonic picks up baseball gloves and a ball on the way out of the house, and Tails swishes his tails in excitement when he spots the objects, setting foot out of the house.

A few minutes later you walk in through the doors, a few bags in hand. 

“Hellooo!” You call out.

With no response, you raise a brow. Usually, the trio greets you. You then remember Mrs. Wakosky having work, but that still doesn’t explain the other three. You shrug it off, unloading the groceries on the countertop. You wash a bowl of grapes, walking around with them on the search for your favorite echidna. 

You first check out the workout room, but he’s nowhere to be found. Then, the couch where you’re expecting to find Sonic and tails, but still nothing. Eventually you make it to the attic where Knuckles resides, a grape being tossed into your mouth.

“Knux?” 

He grunts in response, not bothering to turn his head towards you. You tilt your head at him, raising a brow. Then you finally ask him what’s on your mind;

“Knux, what are you doing on the floor?”

“I have been grounded.”

You think for a moment, then chuckle.

“Hun, that doesn’t mean you have to lie on the ground. I expected you to be the type to still train or work out while grounded,”

“I cannot go to the workout area,”

“Are you making up excuses? You? Surely you can still do pushups-and sit-ups,” you teased. 

He swiftly sits up, exclaiming; “You are a genius!” 

You giggle as he sets off to start doing pushups, doing them at an ungodly speed. You always were impressed by his strength, praising him often. Although he claimed that your praises meant nothing, you couldn’t help but notice the way he smiled and sped up whatever exercise he was doing at the time.

You watched him for a little while longer, eating your grapes before getting an idea. You stood next you him and he paused his now one-handed pushups, looking up at you, 

“What do you want?” You knew he didn’t mean to sound rude, so you smiled and replied, “I was just thinking- what if I sat on your back as an extra challenge?”

You’ve done it before, he was the one to ask you to do it last time. 

“Excellent idea! Though, that is no challenge for me.” 

He got back into pushup position, and you quietly sat on his upper back, attempting to balance. Once he counted 10 more pushups, your hand hovered in front of his mouth, grape in hand. He froze for a second, analyzing it, before taking a bite and humming. From then on, you offered him a grape for every 10 pushups. It seemed like a good way to keep him going, as he seemed to speed up.

Once the bowl of grapes was finished, you encouraged him to take a break. It wasn’t easy of course, but you got him to hold off on pushups until you came back with a bowl of other fruit- peaches, apple slices, and mangoes. You came back only to find him doing sit-ups. You sighed and he told you between soft grunts- “I am not doing pushups, like you asked.”

“Well- yes, but the whole point was to give you a small break. How about let’s pause for a little and spend some time together instead?”

He squinted at you, glancing over at your soft smile- one he couldn’t resist. You grabbed a few pillows and blankets from around the house while you got Knuckles to pick a movie that he’d be interested in. When you came back, he hadn’t chosen one, claiming that he only wanted to watch something you would enjoy. Very sweet and all, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t just get up and start working out halfway through the movie. So, you picked three movies of varying genres, and he picked the action one out of them- the one you already assumed he’d like most.

As it played in the background, you asked him what had gotten him grounded. 

“The blue hedgehog wants me to ‘relax,’” he answered with air quotes.

You nod, humming, focusing on the movie. After you’d gotten all snuggled up in the blankets and pillows, he sat a few feet away from you.

“You don’t have to be a stranger, y’know. Come on, sit closer,” You muttered in a low voice, not wanting to talk over the movie too much. He contemplated for a moment, sitting much closer to you now. You offer him an apple slice, holding it to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s asking you about the movie and why people are doing certain regular human things, you enjoying his short excited comments. He punches the air and kicks his feet when he’s excited over a scene in the movie, too adorable. 

Eventually, he gets tired out and you feel a weight on your shoulder. You smile at the scene before you- you’ve never seen him so calm and peaceful. You’ve seen him happy, you loved playing games with him and the boys, but this was different. Seeing him sleeping was something unusual, as he rarely slept around others. ‘This must mean he feels completely comfortable,’ you thought with a content expression.

You lean back, putting the plate of snacks aside, and his head falls to your chest. As it rises and falls, he snuggles into you in his sleep. You begin to gently pet his fur, taking a moment to press a soft kiss to it. He wraps his arms further around you, tugging you impossibly closer, then loosening his grip. 

It doesn’t take long for you to follow him into dreamland, soft snores emitting from you. Your hand still on his quills, head resting on the pillow behind you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours later, Sonic, Tails, and Mrs. Wakowski come back home only to find knuckles relaxing in your hold.

“Huh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. He does always seem to calm down around them.”

“I knew they had a thing for eachother!”

“Sonic! Shh, let them rest,”

Tails quietly closes the door, letting the two of you relax in eachother’s arms.

.

.

.

April.26.24

[enwoso]

GOODBYE, I’LL MISS YOU — alessia russo

part two to crushed read the first part here!

navigation

flattening the banner across the garden fence, the big bright letters that spelled out 'GOOD LUCK GIRLS!' which you had spent many hours perfecting the big letters over the past few weeks considering the amount of free time you'd now gained while alessia was at training.

you had planned a little going away party for less and some other girls with a little help from your girlfriends two brothers and best friend ella toone.

alessia was due to be back any moment and the other girls you had invited were due to arrive in the next hour, along with some of alessia's family which were up from down south.

"gorgeous i'm home!" the blonde sung as the sound of the door closing echoed in the hallway. "i got the six variations of crisps and the tray of sandwiches that you asked for!" she held up the bag of shopping her arm carrying the tray of sandwiches.

"hiya" you smiled, limping back through the canopy doors from the garden as the blonde placed the bags onto the counter, her eyes drifting towards the different coloured bowls filled with snacks and other picky foods to you who was definitely a little over dressed to be just watched films all day like you had told the blonde earlier this morning.

"what are you up to?" alessia narrowed her eyes towards you as a cheeky smile appeared on your face as you began to unpack the tray of sandwiches.

"just thought i would do a little something for you and the girls before you all leave for the world cup!" you wondered off towards the blonde who stood processing what you'd said, a pout appearing on alessia's face as she brung you into a bear hug attacking your face with several kisses.

"i love you, i love you!" she repeated with each kiss small giggles falling from your mouth, the blonde stopping but still keeping you in her grip, "why though?" alessia asked.

"can't i do something nice for my girlfriend and her friends without a good reason?" you hummed, raising your eyebrows as alessia rolled her eyes playfully at your response.

"no in all seriousness, just thought it would be nice to relax a little before you go and it gets all serious" you smiled softly kissing your girlfriend cheek.

"how did you manage this all by yourself?" the blonde asked as gap between the two of you got a little bigger, your back pressed up against the counter top as alessia's hands were wrapped around your waist.

you gasped, "you don't think i'm capable of doing this all by myself?" the blonde beginning to back peddle as you laughed a little to yourself, "i'm just joking with you lessi, luca and gio helped me"

the blonde now looking confused as the timer on the oven began to ring, "but there both in london?" she pointed out. "yeah, they were in london two days ago-" you smiled moving towards the oven to take out the baked goods out which were muffins.

the ball dropping as alessia hummed, her lips curling up into a smile as she come over to try and take a hot muffin but as she reached out you slapped her wrist away.

"hey! i wanted one of them" alessia frowned as you side eyed her mumbling that she could have one later as you moved the muffins onto a cooling rack, opening your mouth to say a remark back but the sound of the door bell ringing beating you to it.

"oo that'll be tooney" you mumbled to yourself, limping around the kitchen counter towards the door a white bandaged still covering your left knee, "and don't touch the muffins russo" you warned her as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands surrendering but a cheeky look on her face.

"party starts now!" ella cheered holding up two bags of what alessia guessed where things you'd asked her to bring as the midfielder walked into the kitchen where alessia had a muffin in her hand peeling away the muffin case from it, you following shortly behind ella.

ella placing the bags in the kitchen counter beginning to recite the things she's brought along with her, "i've got karaoke, a card game, ball-"

"alessia teresa russo i told you not to eat them muffins!" you gasped, alessia innocently smiling as you glared at her as she ate the last little bit of the muffin which was left.

"just checking they were okay to eat!" alessia shrugged as she walked past you pressing a kiss to your cheek before putting her rubbish in the bin.

"oo muffins! i'll have one!"

"NO!"

all the girls had arrived, along with those of alessia’s family who made the long journey up from south to manchester.

a cool may night, the sun setting late as you all gathered in the garden. playing the little games that ella had brung along with eating all the food you’d spent all day preparing the muffins not making it to the table of food, listening to music and taking photos to capture the moment.

you watched as everyone looked relaxed, alessia joking and laughing on with her brothers and friends as she looked over to you, every so often silently checking in.

after standing up for too long and you knee beginning to feel a little irritated you found yourself sitting down on your garden lounge lifting your legs up to lay along the garden furniture, a fluffy blanket you’d brought out earlier on coving you as the crisp air hit your bare legs.

checking your phone for a few minutes before hearing the voice of ella toone approach you, “you okay?” she asked sitting down at the end of where your legs where laid.

slotting your phone into your hoodie pocket, you nodded. “yeah my knees’ just starting to play up” you shrugged.

ella hummed placing her drink down on the table, “thank you by the way” the midfielder smiled as you looked at her with slight confusion. “for what?”

“for tonight — such a good way to let everyone to relax and enjoy themselves before, well you know” ella said sincerely as you nodded with a smile.

“well they don’t just pay me for my good looks you know” you joked as ella shook her head a few giggles coming from her from your comment.

“glad to see your still humble as ever!”

“of course i am”

"so when's your surgery" ella asked as she slumped further down the sofa that was on the decking, pulling the other fluffy blanket around her as everyone else danced around in front of the two of you.

"um next wednesday" you sighed, finally getting a date for you surgery after a month of waiting and being told it has to be pushed back for reasons unbeknownst to you.

"just can't wait to have it and be back into recovery!" you added as ella nodded knowing how hard it must be for her friend being out from doing the sport you loved so dearly.

"is your mum going with you or are you going by yourself?" ella said knowing both you and alessia and if it was up to alessia she would be in the operating room with you but ella also knew you and how stubborn you could be.

"oh no she's not- don't worry though i'm not gonna be by myself!" you nudged ella seeing the small look of worry wander onto her face. "do you really think less would let me go by myself ay?" you pointed, your eyebrows raised as the two of you both let out a small laugh.

"i was gonna say!"

"leah's offered to come with me and then i think i’ll go and stay with her until.." you stopped for a breath, "well until you lot get back i guess" ella nodded as you began to speak changing the topic this time and taking the spotlight off you and instead onto ella.

"are you excited for australia?" you asked as a bright grin came onto the younger girls face as she nodded quickly. "yeah, just don't know how i'm gonna make it through the long flight with that big dope!" ella sighed, looking towards alessia who was talking with mary her eyes wandering every few minutes towards you.

you hummed before laughing slightly at the thought of the pair of them being sat next to each other for that length of time knowing the situations that could occur.

"when you put it like that, i'm glad, i'm not gonna be on that flight!" you said receiving an elbow to the stomach from the midfielder. "ey watch it im already injured!" you glared at ella getting a roll of the eyes as a response.

"don't tell me you've got soft!"

"wait— so are you not coming over to australia then?" ella asked out of nowhere, as the small laugh had stopped. you shrugged, "i dunno- maybe, i haven't really thought about it to be honest"

you weren't lying you hadn't, part of you wanted to go over not only to experience life on the other side of the world but to also be there for her girlfriend and cheer her on but the other part didn't want to go and watch as your girlfriend lived her dream while you was sat on the sidelines wondering about what could have been.

before ella even had a chance to reply, alessia had made her way over and sat herself right on top of you.

"tooney, what have i told you about stealing my girlfriend!" the blonde glared at her bestfriend. ella rolling her eyes playfully.

"i weren't, we were just having a natter!" ella defended as alessia got herself comfy and situated her arm around your neck so that your head what resting on the strikers chest, hands laced within each other.

"about?" alessia mumbled as your fingers rubbed circles into the back of her hand. "australia and y/n's surgery" ella smiled taking a sip of her drink as you felt alessia tense at little.

"oh" alessia said, a slight hint of sadness in her tone. australia had been a little bit of a touchy subject in your household since you'd been injured.

one because you'd spent a few weeks before the team announcement coming to terms with the fact that you name was definitely not going to be on there but also the fact that the chance of you being able to go and just support the girls being very slim as you were due your surgery in the next week and then your rehab was starting.

for alessia seeing her name on the squad was a big achievement for her but she also felt her heart drop as she knew that the two of you would not being going to the world cup together like you'd planned.

the rest of the night came to a close, you noticed a change in alessia’s mood. but why? you weren’t quite sure on a answer just yet.

once the two of you had said goodbye to the girls held came, shutting the door and locking it behind the last person to leave. tiredness coming and hitting you like a brick wall as alessia had already retreated upstairs to start her nightly routine which she loved to stick to each night.

you on the other hand doing your routine of locking the doors, turning lights of as well as grabbing some ice to put on your knee as you slowly but surely used your crutches to get you up the stairs.

quickly getting changed into shorts and a t shirt, before joining alessia in the bathroom to brush your teeth.

since the chat about australia with ella there'd been a sad smile on the blondes face which had been difficult to get rid of. the same sad smile still on her face as she washed her face.

brushing your teeth you tried to decipher the blondes mood as she rubbed her faced with all of her different serums and moisturises as you sat on the toilet lid, looking at the blonde who retured the look through the large bathroom mirror which hung from the wall.

"are you okay?" you asked slotting your toothbrush back into the holder it always stayed in, alessia picking up another face cream as she nodded and hummed a response.

"you sure, just you've been off since ella mentioned australia" you trailed off, the blonde sighing and turning to you as if something is playing on her mind.

"it doesn't matter, its silly anyway" alessia shook her head her sentence almost coming out as a whisper, as you stood up wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder.

"nothing you say is silly love" you whispered into her ear as she relaxed into your hold.

"i'm scared to be away from you for that long" the blonde admitted quietly as a frown now appeared on your face as you turned your girlfriend to face you.

alessia had every right to feel that way, this was the first time in two years that you would both be away from each other for longer than a week and even then it would only be when she went down to see her family in kent and you would stay in manchester to see your family. this was a whole different scale as you would be on the other side of the world to each other.

“oh love” you cooed as you pecked her lips, “i know it’s not the same but i’ll always be a just phone call away if you need me when your over there!” you smiled softly as alessia nodded slightly.

“i just wished you could be there too, not just watching but playing” alessia whispered as you sadly smiled at her you fingers rubbing small circles into her hip bones.

“me too love but unfortunately that’s not how the universe wanted it but just know that if it was possible i would be front row cheering you on” you told imitating your best russo chat you’d heard from the games a little giggle coming from alessia as you moved your hands to hold hers, the blonde looking into your eyes as you moved a little closer to kiss her lips.

the taste of her strawberry lip balm pressing to yours, her hands had moved to hold your neck, as the kiss was filled with nothing but love and affection for each other.

pulling away once breathing became a little more difficult for you both, “i love you” you smiled holding your head against alessia’s forehead.

“i love you too” alessia smiled also pecking your lips once more.

“now how about we get into bed and plan how we are going to spend our last week together!”

<- crushed (part one)

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 3

one || two || four

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: various x gn!reader [ osamu, sakusa ]

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, MDI. literally can’t be bothered to think of anything else, but feel free to let me know lol

notes: sooo i lied <333 i’ve decided to give suna his own chapter later on (srry suna lovers !!!!) i just wasn’t satisfied with how his was turning out, and it was the only roadblock delaying my progress soooo figured we’d just put a pin in his for now lol especially for those who were FROTHING for these two in particular (this for y'all ✨) hope you enjoy :)))

notes ii: nobody LOOK AT ME, this took me an embarrassingly long time lol. i’m not familiar with them, personality-wise, but i tried ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes iii: this one’s got atsumu written all over it LMAOOO

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy

“Aht-CHOO!”

The bowl of popcorn nearly flew out your lap when you shrieked bloody-murder, body in fight or flight from the abrupt sound happening moments before a jumpscare in the movie you were watching. Head on a swivel, you soon realized the culprit wasn’t a psycho-killer in a ghost mask, but your darling OSAMU with his lawnmower of a sneeze coming through your front door.

You exhaled, relieved, but scared shitless. After pausing the movie, you glared down the hall leading to the door. “Seriously? You had to do that with your entire chest?”

Osamu sniffled, then muttered. “…Y’supposed to say bless ya before scoldin’ at your sweet and thoughtful boyfriend, y’know…”

“Aw, bless you, my love. And, fuck you.”

The brunette snorted, no doubt rolling his eyes as he toed off his shoes. Coming down the hall to soon reveal his handsome face, illuminated only by the bright tv screen, Osamu held up a large plastic bag filled with something greasy and delicious as the smell traveled up your nose. He grinned smugly at you intently eyeing the bag. “Fuck me, huh?”

You immediately doubled down, waving your hands. “Waitwaitwait I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it as in…fuck you’RE so sweet and thoughtful, and I love you so much..?”

Osamu hummed, taking off his ball cap to place it on your head. Shaking it a little by the brim, he winked. “Nice save, darlin’.”

He made way for your inspace kitchen to get dinner assorted with you trailing not too far behind. Your eyes eagerly ate up the widespread of all your favorites displayed on the countertop, practically hanging off his back since there was barely any room for the both of you in the tiny space. Popcorn long forgotten, your stomach sang a symphony for some real food, Osamu saving you the trouble of eating instant noodles for dinner yet again.

And without you even having to ask him for any of it, too.

Your gaze eventually locked onto the former volleyball player, eyeing him up with a newfound hunger that he was quick to pick up on while he popped a piece of fried chicken in his mouth. Looking down at you with a raised brow he patiently waited for you to voice your thoughts, a boyish grin growing on his face as he chewed.

You blinked. He blinked back, then chuckled lightly. “We communicatin’ telepathically, or somethin’?”

“If we were, you’d know I wanna suck you dry right now.”

Osamu.exe—E R R O R.

Man straight up inhaled the little that was still in his mouth, hurling him into a fit of hacks as he turned away from the food to fight for his life at your sink. Coughing up what he could into the drain with you behind him hitting his back for support, you couldn’t stop the evil, little laugh from slipping out seeing this as a form of karma for the scare earlier. Osamu fixed you with a weak glare once he calmed down, reaching over to pinch your cheek. “A warnin’ next time, would’ya?…”

You winced, but mirth still swam in your eyes. “Your only warning would’ve been your pants around your ankles-”

“Oi, quit that.” He gently grabbed your jaw to squish up your mouth, though it didn’t repress the cheeky grin you wore. The brunette did his best to remain unfazed, but the flush across his face was evident, your words clearly effecting him. “…Jeez, at least ask me how m’day was before ya slut me out. Soundin’ like all them thirsty-ass comments floodin’ my socials all damn day.”

Osamu let go of your face to grab plates from your cabinet, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded. Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms with a raised brow. “‘m sorry…the what flooding your socials?”

He busied himself with fixing your plate, nonchalantly recalling the very incident that occurred the other day, “That dumb fuck-list or whatever, mixed up me ‘nd ‘tsumu in their little post. Had his ugly mug front ‘nd center, but had my name attached to this long-winded thread ‘bout me basically being better in the sack than him. Shit’s wild.”

“The fuck-what now?” Osamu handed over a healthy plate full of food, you absentmindedly took it but made no move to eat. He started fixing his own, acting as if he didn’t just delay your appetite with this information. “Y—…you’re joking right? There’s no way something like that exists.”

“Oh, t’s very much real. Read it with my own eyes,” he licked the spoon he used to spread sauce across his chicken. “What, ya sayin’ ya haven’t heard of it? Seriously?”

“You know I don’t care enough to keep up with the trends that go on around here. And with good reason, clearly. What’s even the purpose?”

He shrugged. “Beats me. But it’s got ‘tsumu givin’ me the silent treatment, so maybe it’s not that bad after all.”

“Pfft. He’s pissy because some random on the internet said you’re the better lay? How would they know?? You’re both happily taken, and I wish a bitch would.” You smugly declared, bringing your food to the living room.

Osamu grinned at your possessive tone, trailing behind you holding plate and soda cans in either hand. “Damn straight. But, wasn’t just some random, babe. We’re talkin’ millions.”

Had you not already gotten situated on the couch, you would’ve surely spilled food all over yourself. Jaw nearly to the floor, you blinked up at him, bewildered. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.”

“Holy shit.”

Osamu took his usual spot next to you, large frame nearly taking up most of the couch. With bellies empty, knee knocking against knee, and elbow nudging elbow, the brunette hummed contently as he soaked in his favorite atmosphere—Your voice, your warmth, you. Though too busy monologuing about the absurdity of such a thing going viral to notice his fond gaze, Osamu silently listened to every word as he began eating from his plate. Although, all that mushiness is soon pushed to the back of his mind when the next sentence fell from your lips. After you eventually found said post to see it for yourself, needless to say you had some…hot takes.

“How could someone write this and not cringe? I mean, I love you ‘samu, but a Dom? If only they knew how nervous you were our first time, it was so adorable.” You giggled, tossing some chicken into your mouth. “You are not that guy.”

Osamu’s chewing paused. Your laughter eventually died down.

You didn’t feel his stare earlier…but you were definitely feeling it now, Mr. Krabs. Suddenly, the same dread you got when anticipating a jumpscare resurfaced. A sinking pit in your stomach like a rabbit stumbling upon a fox—Cliché aside, you fucked up. And you knew it in your bones the second your eyes locked with his, void of fondness and full of hunger despite his plate being half-eaten.

He swallowed the bit in his mouth, then spoke. “Sure ‘bout that?”

You mouth moved, floundered even, but nothing would come out. And Osamu didn’t rush you either, if anything he gladly watched you struggle while he continued munching away. “I—..I-I mean..I was just saying. Because…y’know, you never…we never really-”

“Mm. Jus’ cause we usually take things slow doesn’t mean you can’t get a hole fucked into your mattress, sweetheart. Keep tryin’ ya luck, ‘nd ya just might. Finish eatin’ first, though. Ya gonna need your energy.”

SAKUSA couldn’t give a flying fuck about the list. He would literally walk away from someone mid-conversation if said topic got brought up. And don’t think that you’re the exception, either—Man parked and got out of his OWN CAR during the drive back to his place, refusing to get back in until you dropped the subject entirely.

“Omi-”

“No.”

“C’monnnn.”

“No.”

You giggled, “I won’t talk about it anymore, I promise.”

He had his back to you as you spoke through the rolled down, driver’s side window, trying to ‘pspspsps’ him back into the car like a stubborn cat. Sakusa knew he was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t stomach anymore nonsense. Plus, there’s a bit of suspicion on his end whenever it came to talking about the accursed list—Sakusa saw it as a bad omen.

Anyone who talked about it within his circle, be it teammates or personal friends, miraculously found themselves posted up the following day like fresh meat on the market. Once he caught wind that not even taken people were spared from being thirsted over, his disdain merely amplified, as did his precaution.

“Baby, I’ll burn some sage back at your apartment to scare away the bad energy from my filthy words. Would that make you feel better?”

Sakusa huffed, looking over his shoulder to give you a good ole stank face—One you barely paid any mind to as you batted your lashes at him. He glitched. Had it not been for the mask he was wearing, you’d see the harsh flush that spread across his face. Too bad his neck was exposed, giving him away as you grinned knowingly. But, you weren’t about to distract him from the issue at hand, you temptress.

“Don’t patronize me. Besides, you didn’t say it at my apartment, you said it in the car. Would completely defeat the purpose.”

You blinked.

There was no stopping the laughing fit you fell into when his words eventually processed, borderline cackling. “I-I’ll sage the car then, how ‘bout that?”

The ravenette squinted, marching up to the car to stick his head in before pulling his mask down so you could see his heavy frown through your tearful hysterics.

“You’re laughing. You’ve doomed me to becoming targeted by perverts, and you’re laughing.”

“‘yoomi, PLEASE.” You wheezed, waving a hand at him for mercy. With a couple stuttered intakes of air, you did your best to pull it together. “Don’t you think…you’re being a little paranoid?”

Amusement colored your features when you made eye contact with the outside hitter. Sakusa rolled his, tugging his mask back on before re-entering the car. “We’ll see how funny you find it when we can’t be seen together in public anymore.”

“And why not?” You raised a brow, still giggly.

Sakusa buckled in, taking the car out of park. “Because. When I do get posted, I won’t be leaving the safety of my room until that shit gets banned.”

“Oh my god, honey, I promise. You’re worrying over nothing. If you were gonna be on the list, don’t you think you would’ve by now? I mean, c’mon, even Hinata got on it before you. Majority of your teammates did!”

“That’s exactly my point. I’m the only one left.”

The two of you continued a playful back and forth pretty much the whole drive, more so you teasing him than anything else. After a while, having had your fun, you gave it a rest much to Sakusa’s relief. “Can still burn some sage, if you want-” “You’re not funny.”

Your evening continued on as normal, him taking a shower while you busied yourself by looking for a show the two of you could binge. Although, even after the discussion from earlier had been dropped, your boyfriend’s words still echoed in the back of your mind like a mantra. ‘I’m the only one left.’

As much as you’d hate to admit, though never to his face, your over-suspicious companion had a point. Without the safety net of his more extroverted teammates being in the spotlight of rabid fans, what’s delaying the swarm of unsolicited desires now? Even with his sourtude, Sakusa was an attractive individual—The dark curls that frame his face perfectly, his piercing pools of obsidian that shred through you like paper, the beauty marks above his brow, his THIGHS. And those were just surface-level things.

Being one of the privileged few who’ve seen all layers of Sakusa, you couldn’t blame them for wanting to explore deeper into who he was beyond that cold exterior…in more ways than one. Who better to fill those burning questions than some horny randos with too much time on their hands?

But, he’s made it this far without issue, what’s there to worry about now?—*Bzzzzt*

You jolt slightly, the harsh vibration coming from the sofa table breaking you out of your thoughts. With a short glance at your phone, the lit screen revealed an incoming call from Sakusa’s cousin, Komori. You exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, reaching over to grab the device and answer it. However, as your thumb hovered over the green button, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder…why would he be calling you?

You shook your head, answering the call before your mind could wander. He probably just wanted to catch up, make small talk. A smile graced your face as you happily greeted him, “Mori! Hi, what can I do ya for-?”

“Has he seen it?? Am I too late??”

You froze, blinking widely in stunned confusion. Your silence must have been loud enough for the man to grow more anxious, calling out your name to regain your attention. “Uh…has who seen what?”

Komori exhaled, in what you could only assume was relief. “Thank God…you sound blissfully unaware. That means there’s still time. You’re at his place, right?”

You blinked, eyes looking around as if he could see you.

“Kiyoomi’s? Yeah, I am. He’s in the shower at the moment if you were trying to reach him. Is everything okay?”

Now it was him who turned silent. You waited with bated breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wracked your brain for every worst case scenario…but a small part of you already had an idea.

“It’s the complete opposite, I’m afraid.”

‘Kiyoomi Sakusa. 6’2ft of ?????. An enigma. We had to take our time this one. This tall, personification of a hand sanitizer bottle may appear to be disgusted and disinterested, but once you get past those disinfectant defenses of his…Lady in the streets, but a freak in the bed. Why else would he keep so clean all the time? It’s ‘cause he’s hiding an absolute FILTHY ANIMAL behind his mask (literally and figuratively) you cannot convince me otherwise. Definitely a Hard Dom, would degrade you for making a mess all over him even though he’s the one to blame; THRIVES when you get messy for him tho. Firm believer that he’d spit in your mouth, both as punishment and a reward. He won’t make much noise, you’ll think he’s doing taxes while deep in your guts, but just watch his face; homie is EXPRESSIVE. Aftercare could go either way, but he’d probably focus more on getting the sheets changed than cleaning you up. 7/10.’

You clenched the phone in disbelief, eyes watering due to the sexual word-vomit burning them the more you read on. It didn’t even take you long to find the dreaded post you were convinced would never manifest, refreshing the page multiple times just to confirm its existence. “Shit. I really did doom him to being targeted by perverts…”

“Huh??” Komori voiced. You merely brushed it off.

“Nothing,” you sighed. Taking the conversation out on the balcony in case Sakusa overheard, you had Komori on speaker as you attempted to do damage control. “Do the others know about this? Oh God, does Atsumu?? Knowing him, he’d surely jump at the chance to tease Omi with something like this.”

“Dunno. Just found out myself, and you were the first person I thought to call.”

You looked over your shoulder, peeking inside to see if the outside hitter was roaming around. There didn’t appear to be any movement, but there’s no doubt he finished showering by now.

Exhaling, you began sifting through your contacts. “We need to do whatever it takes to make sure he never finds out about the post. I’ll text everyone I know to help flag it down, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take before-”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Startled, phone nearly tossed off the balcony, you turned toward the sudden appearance of your freshly washed boyfriend, towel around his neck and adorned in lounge wear. Komori held his breath, as if he also were caught in the act even though he could easily escape with a mere press of a button. “Um…your cousin.”

“Okay, but…why’d you come out here? You wouldn’t have disturbed me if you took the call inside.” Sakusa raised a brow at your stiff posture, perplexed but concerned. “Something the matter?”

“No!” You winced at your own volume. His eyes widened slightly, making you nervously chuckle. Clearing your throat, you attempted to play it cool. “No, uh…just wanted to get some air while catching up with Komori, that’s all. W-why d’you ask?”

Sakusa squinted at you. “You’re jumpy.”

“J-Jumpy? Me? Uh.. that’s because…” Searching your brain for an excuse, luckily Komori had your back with his quick thinking.

“B-Because! We’re talking about the list! And t-they figured you wouldn’t wanna hear us, so-” SLAM!

Before he could even get the rest of the explanation out, Sakusa had already closed the sliding door. You and Komori shared a sigh of relief. You watched Sakusa’s back retreat into the living room as he sat on the couch, flickering around for something to put on to pass the time.

Just as suspected…still paranoid.

“That was close…”

“Super close. Think he bought it?”

You groaned, hesitant to take your eyes off him. “Won’t matter if he decides to check his phone at some point…”

It didn’t appear to be anywhere in sight, hopefully charging in another room. But, there was no point in wasting time worrying about that. You had some flagging to do. And as long as he had no reason to look at it, you’d be fine.

Sakusa, now bored with you occupied by something else, couldn’t help but to watch you longingly from the couch. You were speaking so animatedly, using your free hand to gesture, pacing back and forth. He frowned—How can that stupid list be more important than snuggling up with him? Yet another reason to hate it.

Exhaling through his nose he leaned back on the sofa, remote in hand as he looked for something to help pass the time. However, before he could get very far in his search, his phone rings.

Confused, he reached into his pocket. Instantly, his mood went from neutral to shriveled when he read the caller ID—Miya.

He had half a mind to ignore it, but knowing Atsumu he’d probably just keep calling until the inevitable happened with him turning up on his doorstep. Sakusa gave an annoyed huff, reluctantly answering the phone.

“Better have a good reason to be calling me this late, idiot.”

“Oh ho ho. Believe me, Omi-Omi. You’ll wanna see this.”

Back on the balcony, after the sixth time flagging the post for misinformation and harassment, you suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere that wasn’t there moments before. Halting your frantic thumbs, you slowly looked up from the screen as a cold chill ran up your spine; something didn’t feel right in the force.

You weren’t sure what made you turn back to look inside the room, but the moment you did…it was like the world had gone into slow motion—Komori’s voice faded into the background as he called out your name, drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding through your ribs at the sight of Sakusa on his phone, face contorted into what could only be described as pure humiliation as he stared into the endless abyss while on his knees.

Probably should’ve burned that sage when you had the chance.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Products & Services Worth The Splurge

Fashion:

A great couple of bras in black/nude (your best skin-toned shade)

Comfortable, breathable, and seamless underwear

Outerwear (Coats, jackets, blazers)

The perfect pair of jeans

An LBD that works from day to night

Comfortable, sturdy, sleek, and timeless footwear (a versatile black boot, a black heel, white sneaker, and a black flat/loafer/sandal)

A timeless and versatile crossbody or shoulder bag (a larger one for the daytime/work or school and a smaller one for nighttime/events)

One or two well-made classic jewelry item(s)

A conversation-starting item or accessory

Beauty:

Sunscreen

Any skincare/skin cosmetic products that are game-changers for you

A quality hair brush, comb, and hair towel

Your signature scent

A quality razor/hair removal product

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Reliable hair tools and sturdy nail tools

A quality hair heat protectant/scalp cleansing or conditioning spray

Makeup brushes and beauty tool cleaners

Home:

Lamps/lighting

Couch/desk chair

Everything for your bed: Bed frame, mattress/sheets/pillows, etc.

Knives

Dishwasher-safe and microwave-safe dishes & cups you love

A full-length mirror

Vacuum

Storage solutions/cedar blocks or moth balls

Quality holders for everything: Paper towels, shower storage, hooks, mailbox/key bowls

Name brand paper products/household cleaners

Electric toothbrush & Waterpik

Sound-proof headphones/Airpods

MacBook Air

Health & Wellness:

High-quality lettuce and/or sprouts

Organic frozen fruits and vegetables (if fresh is too pricey)

BPA-free canned goods

Potassium bromate & glyphosate-free grain products

Snacks free of artificial colors

Quality coffee

An at-home massage tool/heating pad

Fur products for skin/hair removal

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Quality running shoes

Anything that goes near your vulva or into the vagina: Sex toys, lube, condoms, toy cleaners, pads/tampons/menstrual cups, cleansing wipes, etc.

A yoga mat, resistance band, and a pair of small ankle weights

Spotify subscription

Books and audiobooks

Services:

Therapy

A top-tier haircut

House cleaning (even if it's only once every couple of months)

Top-tier hair removal/brow maintenance services of your choice

Best doctors, dentists, OB/GYN, and dermatologists you can get

At least one personal training/styling session in your life

Professional/Social:

Ownership of the domain for your full legal/professional name and/or business name

A CPA/bookkeeper/fiduciary financial advisor

Automation workflow/content management system software

A lawyer for contract review/LLC services

Personalized stationery/"Thank You" cards

Memorable client gifting for the holidays/milestone successes

Niche skill-based certifications (Google, AWS, Hubspot, etc.) or courses made by trusted professionals in your field

Subscriptions in world-leading and industry-authority digital publications

[mentally-gone002]

sick and into you

summary: spencer takes care of you while you’re sick

a/n: so obsessed with him i can’t!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

————————————————————————

ring… 

ring… 

ring-

“hello?” 

i pinched the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to make my piercing headache go away. my ringtone brought it back worse than it was before the loud interference. 

someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line before they spoke, “hey, are you coming into work? it’s almost noon.” 

it was spencer and he sounded worried. he had that little twinge of a rasp. i call it his “worry rasp” whenever i pick up on it.

i stifled a cough before answering. “no, i’m sick. i called hotch earlier to let him know.” the balled up tissue in my hand pressed into my runny nose. 

“do you need me to bring you anything?” his voice was still laced with concern i could pick up on even through the slight distortion the phone gave his voice.

i shook my head slightly and then answered him because he couldn’t see me. “no, spencer, i’m fine. plus, i have germs.” 

spencer scoffed. “everyone has germs.” his argument made me smile slightly. 

“but you don’t like germs. they make you feel icky.” 

“well, i can handle feeling ‘icky’ so don’t worry about me. i can go get soup from that cafe you really like.” he offered. i smiled at how he used the same word as me. it was something he definitely wouldn’t say any other time. “please, let me help you.” 

“spencer, i promise i’m okay. you stay at work and get all those excruciating files done, i’d love you so much if you did some of the ones on my desk. i’ll be back in two days tops, okay?” my throat hurt from that long running sentence so i started coughing. the phone moved away from my ear so he wouldn’t hear the extent of the ragged sound scrapping through my throat. 

when the phone came back to my ear it was quiet over the line. “you okay?” spencer asked after a beat of silence. i hummed, swallowing my spit to make the burn go away. “i’ll go so you can get some rest. drink a lot of water because it’ll flush out the sick. and try to eat.”

“okay… sorry i’m not in today.” i laid down on my couch with a groan. 

“don’t apologize.” spencer told me gently. 

i smiled with closed eyes. “okay. i’ll go now.” 

“okay, feel better. bye.”

“bye, spencer.” 

i dropped my phone next to me on the couch. i kept my eyes closed until i felt like i was drifting to sleep, which could have taken an hour or just two minutes. time didn’t matter because my headache slowly wore away until it was a light beating pain that matched my heartbeat. 

my body did that fake falling thing right as my mind went completely blank. i sat up in a rush, sweat creating a cling between my clothes and skin. my hair was messy and stuck to my neck and forehead.

once my body was upright i heard a sequence of knocking from my front door. 

with a groan i stood up. my muscles ached and i shivered at the feeling of my cold floor on my bare feet as i padded across it. i didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door wide enough to see who was knocking. 

“spencer? i thought i told you to-“

“i know what you told me but i didn’t listen.” he held up a hand as he interrupted me. 

i nodded, squinting at the hallway lights from the complex. “obviously.” i stepped aside to let him in. “i look awful.” i grumbled to myself.

he smiled with tight lips as he did while he took off his shoes. he placed a plastic bag on my kitchen table near the door. “you look fine. maybe a little tired, but at least you don’t look like some of the people we see on cases.” he rambled while toeing off his shoes. 

my eyes were stuck on the bag on the table. “you got food,” i sighed, walking back to my living room to grab my almost empty glass of water. i filled it up at the sink before saying, “i told you not to do any of what you’ve just done.” my headache was starting to come back.

spencer unwrapped the bag he’d brought with him, placing a covered paper take out bowl to the side. “this is for you.” he looked at me, not replying to any of what i’d just said. his eyes lingered on me for a little longer than i’d liked. my arms went around my body to try and hide. i sniffled and tried to conceal a cough in my elbow. 

“thank you.” i grabbed a spoon from the dish rack beside the sink and then took the container of soup to my couch to sit inside the circle of blankets i’d been in just minutes before. 

spencer joined me. “i did a file or two that was on your desk.” he told me, reaching for a book on my coffee table to flip through it. 

“you didn’t have to do that. i was joking earlier.” my brows were pinched together in regret for saying it at all because he can’t tell when someone’s joking most if the time. 

he shrugged. “i knew that, but i still wanted to help you out.” 

i nodded. “thank you, but you shouldn’t have.” 

silence fell over the room while i ate slowly and he read half of the book i didn’t even see the title of. 

my brows furrowed suddenly. “what time is it?”

spencer glanced at the watch on the inside of his wrist. “five twenty-three.” he looked over at me, watching my face contort from confused to surprised. “what?”

“i slept for four hours between our phone call and you getting here.” i focused on the windows of my apartment to notice the dimming light from beyond the blinds and the glass.

“your body needed it.” he hummed gently. i looked back at him as he kept on reading. he’s too smart sometimes but it’s his trademark and it’s lovable. “sorry, i don’t know how to not be ‘boy genius’.” he smiled. 

can he read minds now? it wouldn’t surprise me. 

i nodded. “it’s okay, i like it.” the spoon in my hand brought more soup to my lips. “how’s the book?” 

“good. i haven’t read any of your books before.” he flipped to look at the cover while keeping his place. “this is the book jj and penelope were talking about during a case.” he hummed. 

i got a look at the cover and laughed. “twilight. you’ve never read twilight?” my question made him look at me and then hesitantly shake his head. “oh, my god. i have all the others if you wanna read the rest of them. they’re so good.” 

he smiled at me gently. “why is everyone so obsessed with a series about vampires and werewolves?” 

“it’s not just a series about vampires and werewolfs, spencer. it’s a complex romance.” i told him very matter-of-factly which ended in a coughing fit from the most use my voice had gotten all day. 

spencer moved closer, or i guessed he did because of how to couch dipped as i had my head turned away from him. he placed a hand on my back. “don’t overwork yourself by telling me about a series.” he was smiling, i could tell. “can i do anything?” 

i shook my head. “no, you’ve done a lot already. and you’re risking getting sick.” 

spencer sighed, keeping his hand on my back as he went back to reading with only one hand. “i don’t mind helping, you know.” he was too selfless. “i can run you a bath, or make you some tea. both would help you.” 

i sighed. “you are relentless, spencer reid.” the soup in my hands was placed on the coffee table so i could turn myself and face him. 

the hand he had on my back slid to my leg, resting a few inches above my knee. “i did come all this way.” he smiled, leaning further into the couch. “now let me help.” 

i sniffled and cleared my throat. “a bath would be nice.” 

he nodded and rose from the couch slowly. i watched as he walked around the couch and to my bedroom. i stood and followed. 

“you’re a good man.” i told him from the doorway of my bathroom. he looked back at me from the ledge of the bathtub. 

he smiled. “you’re the only person i’d do this for.” 

————————————————————————

idk why but i wanna do a part 2??? lmk if h should just because lolz

[tinyluvs]

i literally just found your account today and your spencer writings have me kicking my feet and twirling my hair-but not the point

all i’m going to say is: baking with spencer and you trying to add things in without measuring and he’s shook to his core

thank you so much n absolutely, he would lose his mind

"i think we have everything we need now," your boyfriend says, looking over the ingredients spread out over the counter. you hum, which makes him look up, "stop eating those, we need them," he snatches a packet of chocolate chips out of your hands

you scoff, "actually, those are the ones we need," you wave an unopened bag at him, "these are extras" you attempt to snatch the bag out of his hands but he moves, forcing you to fall forwards and off of the counter, where you were sat

spencer chuckles at you but steadies you with an arm around your waist. you shove at him lightly when he moves away, putting the chocolate chips on top of the fridge freezer, where he knows you can't reach

"that's so rude," you comment, squinting at him. he dips to kiss at your forehead, whilst rolling his eyes before reaching over to turn the oven on to preheat

he claps his hands together before looking around his kitchen, "where is the recipe?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing across his forehead

you shrug, "i don't have one," spencer gawps at you, like you're crazy. he shakes his head and takes off out of the room, "where are you going," you huff but don't move to find out

"i'm finding one," he shouts back from the other end of the apartment. his long legs getting him there much faster than you ever could

he eventually comes back, book in hand, "you have a recipe book?" you hum, amused. his apartment is filled with books but you've never seen a cook book

"yeah, it used to be my mom's" he says, flicking through the pages, "here we go," he scans over the page and then starts rummaging through his cupboards

you roll your eyes at him and then grab a bowl and the bag of flour. gently, you start pouring the powder, eyeballing it as you go. you've made chocolate chip cookies hundreds of times, winging it every single time

"so the recipe says-" spencer turns around with scales in his hands, stopping in his tracks when he see's you, "hey, stop, what are you doing?" he shrieks, grabbing at your hands, stopping you from pouring

you frown at him, "making cookies? what does it look like i'm doing?" huffing at him you manage to shake his hands off of you and in the process, sprinkle flour over both of your hands

"we need to measure it," he scoops the bowl off of the counter, once again holding it out of your reach

"no we don't," you groan and his jaw drops, "what? i've made these so many times spence, i could do it with my eyes closed!" you press your hands onto his shirt, smirking when he ends up with two perfect prints of flour on him

spencer stares at you and you stare back, arms crossing over your chest, "we have to do it properly," he says with a slight huff

bumping him out of the way you reach into one of his cupboards, getting out another mixing bowl, "fine, you make it with the recipe," you put the bowl on the counter, "i'll do it without"

your boyfriend shakes his head, "no, that's stupid"

loudly you groan, throwing your head back slightly, "we have enough ingredients, i promise you mine will turn out the same as yours, if not better" you say smugly, snatching the flour back from him

he watches you for a minute before giving in, not wanting to back down from the challenge. silently he moves around the kitchen, weighing out sugar, flour, butter and grabbing the right amount of eggs, side eyeing you occasionally to see what you're doing

"see, they look the exact same!" you point at the two identical trays of cookie dough, all rolled into small balls, ready to go into the oven

spencer slides the trays into the oven, humming like he's not fully convinced yours are going to be any good. "we'll see," he says, winding up a timer

you hop back up onto the counter, watching him collect the bowls and utensils before dumping them into the sink, "can i have the chocolate chips back now please?"

he grabs them off of the fridge freezer and then moves to stand between your legs, "kiss first please, honey" he hums, dipping forwards to kiss you three times

"thanks" you giggle afterwards, already tipping the chocolate pieces into your hand. you push a couple into spencer's open mouth, he nods appreciatively while rolling his sleeves up, ready to wash up

when the timer goes off you startle slightly, which makes spencer laugh as he gets the trays out, pushing them onto the counter. you reach for a spatula, taking one from each tray to cool down faster

"ready?" you ask once they have, holding your cookie up to your mouth, he mimics your actions. he nods once before you tuck into your treats, "don't know what you were so worked up about, tastes great"

"let me try," he says, opening his mouth so that you can slot the rest of it into his mouth, "what?" he screeches, still chewing, "yours taste better than mine, how?"

"magic, angel, it's real you know" you giggle, bouncing up to kiss melted chocolate away from his bottom lip

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[n0tamused]

idk if i can request but —

What about ratio with a reader who is always sleepy but refuses to sleep on time? (Technically nocturnal reader haha)

Like; he’d be home from the guild after a particularly long day and he sees the reader doing whatever on the dead of night

Or maybe when hes asleep he suddenly stirrs awake with music coming from the living room or reader accidently dropping a bowl in the kitchen, creating very loud noise!!

Would he scold us ? 🥲

Feel free to ignore this if you want!! 🫶

A/n: Sorry for taking so long but I do hope you enjoy this little drabble! <3 I am slowly working on the requests aaa I feel like Ratio would definitely be prone to scolding you for this behavior, but he'd try to encourage you to go to bed early by dragging you to his nightly routine with him. You just gotta sleep after it, there's no choice bro. Try saying no to sleep around him I dare you

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN reader, nocturnal reader that overworks themselves, fluff.

Long sighs of night air send satisfying shivers down Veritas’ back as he trudges his way forth through the swallowing darkness, reminded once more that his bedtime schedule had long since been lost with the sudden trip the Guild had set him up to. Yet, in the moment, he couldn’t even be irritated as the breeze felt most pleasant to his tired body and mind. 

In long strides he reached the front door, his hands fiddling with the keys while he reached up with the other hand to rub the bridge of his nose, his fingertips soothing down the edges and beneath his eyes with soothing pressure. Light poured out of the hall and onto the welcome mat, illuminated the sudden ridge between his brows that seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. One glance at the clock reminded him of the time - 01:26 AM. The lights were off during these hours, generally speaking.

Veritas sighed softly, his jaw clenched as he took off his shoes and stalked over to the office room which you were currently occupying, big black headphones over your ears not allowing you to hear his approach. The door was left open, and as Veritas wordlessly made his way inside, he spotted an empty cup beside you and he heard the aggressive scribbling of pen on paper before he even saw you holding it.

Glancing down at the trashcan, he found it oddly full with crumbled balls of torn paper sheets and sticky notes. He dreaded guessing how long you were here for, but he could practically feel the stress oozing off of you in long heavy coats. 

Startling you seemed unavoidable even as he tried to gently tap you on the shoulder, his warm palm soon pressing onto it to stop you from jumping from your chair. The contact made you gasp and spin around, accidentally drawing a sharp diagonal line down your paper. The color that was so quick to drain from your face slowly began to seep back in through your eyes as you recognized the man now hovering behind you, and a sigh fell from your lips in pure relief. “Oh, Veritas- it’s you!.. Did you just get back? I do apologize, I didn’t hear you” you dropped your pen, pulling down your ear phones to instead turn around and wrap your arms around his waist, your cheek pressed against his stomach.

He returned the affection by rubbing up and down your back, his other hand gently placed on top of your head. “I did. And I think it goes without saying that I am not most pleased to find you in this state..” he muttered, his voice softened from his long travels, but filled with a loving scolding.  “What is this? Have you not finished this already before I left?” he asked as he watched you pull away and look up at him, still a little hunched over and with your two fingers hooked around his belt hoop. 

“I have finished it, but.. uh.. it wasn’t good. I went back in to do some retouching, and I just kept not liking any of them” you explained as your previous soft smile fell, unveiling the bags underneath your eyes and the sagging of your shoulders. Veritas knew you were prone to perfectionism and overexertion, yet he knew he’d never get used to it and that he’d never stop scolding you for it. 

“These retouches- they couldn’t wait until you were more well rested. You do know they won’t run off should you look away from them for a few hours, from my office no less..” he grumbled lightly, his brows relaxing before cinching together as he saw you look away and turn to look at your paper, as if you did not hear what he just said.

“I know.. but I am finishing up now. I did make some of your favorite tonight. You can go ahead and do your thing while I finish up, and as soon as you’re done with your shower, you’ll find the meal warmed up for you. I’ll be done by then” 

Veritas didn’t even know if you were trying to distract him and send him off, change the topic or get him off your back. He shook his head. Whatever the objective was, he decided to play soft tonight and let you do your work for a little while more, to soothe you in some way. He knew how it was to be forced to leave work unfinished. Both of you were too tired for even simple banter which you usually enjoyed. But he made his dissatisfaction known with a heavy sigh and a fluttering of his eyes that fell shut for a few heartbeats. “Fine.. but no need to warm up the food, it is too late to have such a meal. I’ll go clean myself up, and then you will do the same. You need rest..”

There was no argument there, you knew, and could only look up at him and nod before he was walking out of the office room and into the bathroom. A timer like that would usually send you into a panic, yet now you found yourself slightly more motivated and even relaxed. This was Veritas you were with, your Veritas - not some rude client that wished to rush you and undermine you. 

Your finishing touches would need retouching in the morning, as you find yourself not completely satisfied even now, but you decided it was time to lay down the pen for tonight. And it wasn’t like you had much of a choice when Veritas stood at the door, towel around his waist. hair still damp from his shower and asking - no, saying you were done and that you should get ready for bed too now.

You slid out of the chair, giving him a hug as you passed by him in the door frame, earning yourself a soft scoff as he kissed your crown and sent you off with a few pats on your shoulder. He was eager for rest, but also to be in your arms. Something he missed the last few days. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @the-inquisitive-constellation <3

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie rushes down the narrow hall of the trailer, his cereal bowl still in hand as he chuckles away at whoever has awakened a grumpy Steve from his beauty rest by pounding on the door at 7am.

He opens the front door to find an equally frustrated Dustin Henderson, all prim and proper, dressed ready for school. Dustin practically shoves a large cooler bag into Eddie's hand, giving him a split second to hold his cereal bowl at arm's length so as not to spill it.

"What's this?" he asks, frowning.

He attempts to peer into the bag but can only see the tops of at least two plastic containers at the angle his full hands have forced him into.

"Lasagna," Dustin informs - though it's more like a droning deadpan.

"Goody," he beams, bopping up and down on the spot as his young friend rolls his eyes.

"Dusty!" Claudia chides from the car. She spots Eddie looking directly at her and switches to a motherly smile, "Oh, hi Eddie, darling."

He waves, "Thanks, Claudia."

"Come on, Dusty, we have to get over to Steve's or I'll be late for work."

"Okay!" Dustin calls over his shoulder a little too sweetly. He narrows his eyes as he conjures up his most threatening tone, "You know who doesn't get any lasagna because of you assholes and your cartoon cat-like appetites?"

Eddie grins, "Stevie isn't home, Dustybun!"

"Eddie!" he stomps his foot.

He cackles in the face of the kid's annoyance. And maybe also because Steve is literally here in the back room, likely still grumbling away with his cute-as-hell bed hair as he tries to go back to sleep.

Dustin turns back to his mother, "Mom! Eddie said Steve isn't home."

"He isn't?" she asks so innocently, Eddie's heart swells. Bless this woman, "Well where - oh," Eddie can see her clutching her proverbial peals, "Well, never mind. I'll just keep it in the fridge at work for the day."

He smirks for a moment before he turns his attention back to Dustin, who looks like he is trying to telepathically channel El's superpowers so he can smoke him to smithereens.

Eddie blinks and feigns interest, "Oh, I'm sorry, who doesn't get any of Claudia's mouth-wateringly delicious lasagna?"

He rocks back and forward on the balls of his feet as he bats his lashes waiting for a, surely deafening, response.

"Me!" Dustin screeches, "Mom is so busy making you guys food all the time that now when she makes lasagna, saying, 'Oh, this is for the boys' that doesn't include me - her son!"

"Well you'd better learn how to cook some for your hungry wittle self," he teases. If his hands were free, Eddie would lean forward and give Dustin a condescending pat on the belly. But alas, he has to settle for wiggling his fingers through the bag's straps as he smiles, "Toodles, Dusty."

He only just catches Dustin's gaping stare for a split second before he closes the door on him completely like he's poor Kay Corleone. He cackles away as he heads for the kitchen. Steve, though hard of hearing - especially when he's all bleary-eyed and half awake - must have heard at least some of it because he calls out a smile-filled, "Eddie?".

"Coming, pretty boy!" he calls down the hall.

He sets his bowl down on the bench and makes quick work of dividing four servings of lasagna between the fridge and freezer, both spaces crowded thanks to Claudia's cooking.

"Guess what we are having for dinner..." he coos as he makes a beeline straight for Steve once he heads back to the bedroom.

Meaning, he jumps on the bed and tickles his boyfriend silly.

"Whaaaaat?" Steve whines as he attempts to duck under the blankets before settling shoving a pillow over his head.

"Lasagna!" Eddie shouts to the heavens, fist-pumping while he's at it.

Steve slides the pillow off his face and stares at the ceiling with absolute dread.

"Oh no, not her lasagna!" he dry-sobs, clutching the pillow to his chest.

Eddie drops his hands in his lap, offended.

"You don't like Claudia's lasagna?" he recoils, clutching his own nonexistent pearls.

Steve shakes his head, looking both worried and apologetic as he admits, "It's just too much food, man. Like, it's a kind gesture. And I love Claudia and all but, it's only me at home. And the servings are huge!"

"Oh, please!" he scoffs, "You practically inhale food."

"Not that much!"

Eddie flops back onto the mattress, narrowly missing Steve who is totally crowding the single bed. He places his hands over his own belly, rubbing at it as he hums contentedly.

Steve props himself up on his elbow and slowly quirks his brow as he looks Eddie over with a worrying level of amusement. He watches as Steve's eyes flit to the Garfield plushie sitting at the foot of the bed - a gift he had forced his boyfriend to buy him in commemoration of their first weekend away together in Indy a few months back.

Steve pinches his nose and mutters, "Jesus Christ."

"What?" Eddie asks, genuinely curious.

Wait.

"I'm dating Garfield!" Steve exclaims before falling face-first onto him in a fit of giggles.