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promisingyounglady · 2 months

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accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. “I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

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theysherobinbuckley · 11 months

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a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #max mayfield #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #ej writes #ej posts #ok to rb

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evie-sturns · 22 days

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Intersection - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after not driving for a few months, you accidentally rear end matts car at an intersection.

contains: crying, swearing, comforting, angry!matt.

-------------└── •✧• ──┘--------------

i haven't drove in the past 6 months that i've been away in Florida, but now i'm back in Boston im slowly starting to get back into it.

8:37pm

i flick my left indicator, swinging round the corner as frank ocean blares through my small white car.

the road is slippery due to the weather recently, the small puddles on the concrete shining from the illuminating street lights above.

i hum to the song as i accelerate, pressing my foot harder on the small pedal as i keep a reasonable distance between the grey van in front.

i check my wing mirrors, there's no cars behind me so i speed up, closing the distance between me and the car ahead.

theres an upcoming intersection, the traffic light is green, i look down at my cupholder for a split second, my bottle of water splashing up out of the bottle with every rock i drive over, "shit.." i mutter, reaching a hand down and fiddling with the cap.

i gasp as i look up, the light is red and the car which is 3 feet in front of me has come to a complete halt.

my heart drops as my mind goes blank.

"oh my god." i shout as the front of my car smashes into this grey van.

i sit in silence for a few seconds, the van drives to the side of the empty road, i follow and park behind, my heart thumps as i drive in total shock,

i've never been in a car accident, not even close.

i instantly start to freak out, how could i not in this situation. i turn off my car, stepping out and wiping my face with my sleeve as i take in panicked breaths.

the door of the other car swings open, a man steps out, he's wearing cargo jeans, a grey crewneck and an assortment of jewellery.

i've definitely seen him on tiktok before..?

i walk over to him, "i'm so fucking sorry my insurance will pay for everything" i ramble, the brunette replies "i know."

his voice is stern, he's definitely mad. i bite my nails as my leg shakes on the spot.

"how the fuck do you not brake? you were a solid 5 meters behind me and yet your car rams the back of mine? are you fucking stupid?" the boy says, staring into my eyes.

"my water spilt and i thought the light was going to stay green, i'm so sorry." i say back, my voice shaking as i start to cry.

he stays silent for a few seconds, scanning my face which is now flushed everywhere with a couple of tears falling from my eyes.

"stop, just give me your insurance details and number" he sighs,

after giving him my number and insurance details i start again, "ill call you an uber, im really sorry." i say, pulling out my phone and attempting to turn it on, soon realising it ran out of battery an hour ago.

"dont worry about it, my cars driveable." he says, i nod. the whole front of my car is squashed, including the engine.

"you got a way home?" the boy asks,

"i mean uh- no but i can just walk." i say with a small sniff,

"come on, ill drive ya." the brunette says, taking my hand and walking me towards his van, the back of it has a medium sized indent, nothing too major though.

"you don't have to i swear its not a far walk" i protest, "i'm not gonna let you walk, honestly its okay." he says, climbing into the drivers side.

i get into the passengers side, he pulls out his phone "i'm gonna call someone to tow your car okay?" he says, his voice soft.

"yeah- okay." i reply.

i've found out this boys name is matt, i knew it was something like that, we're now pulling into my street after apologising thousands of times. aside from the whole 'ramming his car' we clicked well together.

i point out my house, matt jumps out first to let me out of his van, "are you okay now?" he asks with a small laugh, "yeah- i think." i reply with a guilty expression plastered on my face.

"can i have a smile?" he asks, i force a pathetic smile and matt nods.

"ill text you tomorrow, we should see each other sometime?" he asks nervously,

did he just ask me out?

"yes! yeah i'd like that." i say,

matt leans down, giving me a hug,

"i'm sorry for making you cry."

"what? no! i'm sorry for rear-ending your car!" i reply, pulling away from the hug and giving him a warm smile.

----

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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sunsetsimon · 5 months

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apology - simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

thanks for requesting anon <3

nsfw ahead! mdni

also sorry i had to rush the end but i promise ill have something better out later!!! - sun

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the bed dips as simon lays next to you, finally coming to bed after avoiding you for the last 2 hours. he knew he fucked up earlier when he forgot the main thing you sent him to the store for. you'd been looking forward to trying out a new recipe you'd found online and knowing it'd take a while, you asked him to run to the store and grab some stock for the soup.

"in a bit, dove. 'm gonna finish this workout first," he said when you asked him. you nodded in agreeance, not realizing 'finishing his workout' meant taking an hour run around the neighborhood.

and of course you could've gone yourself, but simon always prefers you ask him to do things like that and you wanted to be patient. he gives you a quick call when he gets to the store, stopping there on his run, "stock, tomato paste, cream and rice. thas'it love?"

as he's on his way home he can't help but feel like he forgot something, it nags at him but he continues anyway. greeting him with a kiss at the door, you grab the bag from him and carry it to the kitchen so he can take off his shoes.

"ugh- simon! i told you to get stock!"

simon stares at you puzzled, but makes an 'oh shit' face when he realizes, "ah fuck! knew i forgot something, i'll go back now."

"it's fine, i'll just have something else," you sigh, leaving the items on the counter and walking away. he tries to stop you, saying he'll be quick but your mood has already been ruined, waving your hand in dismissal. you retreat to your room for a while, reading your book until simon decided to check on you.

"'m sorry about earlier. was being a dumbass and forgot."

"you could've just called me," you reply with a slight irritated tone in your voice, eyes not leaving the page of your book, though you weren't reading anymore.

"i know, i should've," he nods, pulling you to him on the bed, his arms wrapping around your body, his head on your stomach. "i can't make up for it now, but i am sorry."

you reread the page again, attempting to focus on the words. simon's fingers grab at the fabric of your sweatpants, pulling it down to reveal the skin of your stomach and hip. your legs twitch as his wet lips trail kisses along your tummy, his short blond hair tickling your skin. his touch is addicting, you instantly melt into him, a wanting ache growing in your pussy.

he works your pants off, throwing them to the side and pushing your legs open wide. leaning forward, he kisses the wet spot in the fabric, his nose bumping your clit. the muscles in your thighs ripple, flexing to keep them open while he teases you. sticking out his tongue, he flattens it against your clit, his hot breath only making you wetter.

dragging your panties down, he groans at the wet stickiness of your slick on the fabric. taking a deep breath as he holds them to his nose, "fuck, y' smell so good."

"simon..." you whine, feeling like you might die if he doesn't do something. anything.

"g'nna make you cum, dove. as an apology." simon leans down, his mouth latching onto your cunt. he moans against you, pulling you closer as if he could devour your entire pussy. his hips rut against the mattress, grinding down to ease some of the pressure.

he revels in the way you cry his name, desperately fucking yourself onto his tongue. two fingers slide into you easily, pushing deep and curling against that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. you tug his hair, holding him close to you as he sucks your clit, flicking his tongue on it quickly.

“gonna cum-“ you barely make out, jaw clenching to hold back your moans.

simon only hums against you, raising onto his elbows, pulling your hips into the air. his tongue prods at your entrance, lapping at the sweet wetness thats dripping out of you. his fingers fuck you expertly, pulling you to orgasm quickly. you squeal as you cum, legs shaking and mind spinning as it washes over you. his dark eyes are on you, watching intensely as you writhe in his arms, whining ‘okay-okay’ until he finally stops.

“how was that?” he asks, finally pulling away with a smirk on his scarred lips. his chin glistens, your sweet wetness all over the bottom half of his face. of course he already knows the answer, he just wants to embarrass you.

“oh shut up and come here, simon.”

fuck he’s good at apologies.

#.wbm #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #edit tomorrow

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stylesharrys · 5 months

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love me like you do

summary: harry’s never had someone take care of him the way that y/n does.

word count: 2,361

a/n: here's another old exclusive guys. there are lots and lots of fics lined up for you for the next couple of months while I work on a 20k realtor!y/n and a 20k ex-boyfriend!harry so enjoy!

At first, Harry thought nothing of it.

The honeymoon phase, he told himself. It made sense, it was expected. His past lovers had all been the same during that time — always obsessed and seemingly in love. Seemingly.

But after a few months, they always started to change. They’d distance themselves first, take a while longer to reply or to get in contact with him. Then, they’d get blunt and annoyed quickly with him. They wouldn’t want him close, wouldn’t shower him in affection. Wouldn’t let him touch them.

And then, eventually, they’d leave. Maybe on the odd occasion, they’d butter him up and get a little splurge on his card, or go to him just for their release. A few had cheated, some just left. Nothing for Harry has ever lasted past a year and a half, and now it’s nearing the two-year mark and he’s confused.

Y/N is a lovely woman. She’s kind, funny, smart, gorgeous. Harry thinks her kindness and wit is what attracted him to her in the first place, and in the two years he’s known her, he’s only started to love her more.

It’s not like he thinks deep down she’s a horrible person, but Harry has grown accustomed to how things typically work in his relationships, and none of the above has yet occurred.

Currently, he’s lying on his stomach with his face smushed into Y/N’s pillow. She’s straddling his lower back, her bum on his bum and his shirt is long gone as she massages the tender knots out of his shoulders. She’s been doing it for thirty minutes now. Harry’s been watching the clock.

He’s been feeling a little ill the past few days. Migraine, sore muscles and the occasional fleeting moments of nausea. He lost his appetite and strength pretty quickly and Y/N has been on the ball with it — at his feet with a sick bucket, coddling his head to her chest with a cold compress against his skin. She’s done it all and Harry can’t quite understand it.

From past experiences of being ill or caught with the flu, the only person to have ever taken proper care of him had been his mother. And now, his lover is doing what past lovers didn’t, and Harry’s confused.

It’s not that Y/N isn’t an overwhelmingly kind and compassionate person, because she is. Her caring and nurturing behaviour is nothing out of the ordinary for Y/N, but Harry has never experienced such care from a romantic partner before.

It’s like Y/N has forgotten about the gruelling twelve-hour shift she just got home from, but Harry hasn’t ,and although he’s the one that’s sick, she’s the one that’s been on her feet all day.

“Come on, I’ll do you.” His words come out gruffly, muffled slightly by the pillow that restricts the fluid movements of his lips. He can feel Y/N shake her head from above him. She sinks the balls of her palms into the backs of his shoulders.

“You need to relax and rest.” She argues, thinks her reasoning will be enough for him not to ask again.

Harry shakes his head and shuffles beneath the weight of her body. Y/N lifts to her knees, allowing him to turn beneath her and onto his back. Harry’s eyes are bleary and sleepy as he blinks to gain his bearings. He stretches for her hips, hands finding them with ease.

She’s sitting on his lower tummy, dressed in a pair of cycling shorts and one of his old Rolling Stones t-shirts that she changed into the second she got home. There’s dotting of mascara smudged below her eyes and a couple of pimples that are starting to show through the worn, minimal makeup.

He knows she’s had a long day, could tell the second she got in and pretended that she was okay for his sake. Her hair is tied back low on her neck, stray strands wildly framing her face. She looks tired, burnt out. Harry just wants to look after her.

“Bad day?” He finally asks.

Y/N blinks twice and shrugs, head rolling as her shoulders raise and her cheek meets it. “Busy,” she tells him. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Harry squints.

He knows she’s used to it — the long days with early starts and late finishes, the ones without a break in-between, where she doesn’t get to eat, save for a few grapes she manages to steal every now and then. He knows she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting her.

He squeezes her hips gently. “Know you’re used to it, pet. Don’t make it any easier, though.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her hands are on his, encouraging them to sneak up her shirt to feel her skin. She’s warm, soft. Y/N pouts down at him. “Want a kiss.” She says, eyes glassy with affectionate need.

Harry copies her expression, reaching up to caress the side of her face. “Can’t let ya get sick, babe. Why don’t you let me run you a bath and you can relax?” He offers, eyes gentle and she lets hers flitter closed for a moment, like she’s pondering over her answer.

She shakes her head.

“You’re the sick one. I’m going to run you a bath, and then I’m going to make you some soup for your throat. Know it’s still been hurting you.”

Harry doesn’t say anything — knows that whatever he argues, she’ll bite back better. His body sinks into the sheets, head in the pillow as a heavy huff of annoyance and adoration slips from his mouth.

When Y/N said she’d run him a bath, Harry didn’t expect it to be overflowing with bubbles or for every possible available surface to be littered in glowing candles. But the bathroom wasdecorated with such and Harry was overcome with an overwhelming amount of love for his girl.

She let him take his time in there, relaxing and soothing his muscles while she cooked up some magic for his throat. Getting out of the bath, Harry most definitely does not expect to wander into the kitchen to see what he does.

Y/N behind the stove, dishing up the soup with two fresh rolls from the bakery a mile from them. She’s got the lights dim for him — knows they’re hurting his head — and there are more candles around the living room.

The coffee table is littered with them mostly, Netflix is up and ready on the TV and as he looks to the sofa, he notices she got out her favourite blanket — the soft one that Harry swears is made from angel wings.

And he looks at her, starry-eyed and all. She’s got a gentle smile on her lips when she notices his presence and Harry is fucked.

He can’t stop the rush of emotion that consumes him. His eyes turn glassy, nose tingling and heart aching. Harry reckons he’s easily the most loved man in the world and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He can’t help the single tear that slips down his face but he wipes it before she notices.

Harry approaches her, arms wrapping around the middle of his love and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you, for all of this. Love you so much.” He rasps into her skin.

He can feel her body warm against his touch and she smiles, rashes down to hold her hand over his. “Love you loads, too. And you haven’t got to thank me, this is just what you do when you love someone.”

When you love someone.

She shrugs her own words off like they’re the most obvious thing she’s ever said, but Harry can’t stop falling harder for her.

He’s loved people before, he knows that. But now, looking back, he wonders if anyone has ever loved him before her.

Harry doesn’t remember a time that a previous lover put him before themselves. Where they cared for him and put his needs first. Where they showered him with care and adoration just because.

No ones ever loved him as she does.

The tears start to pool again as he pulls away and helps her carry their bowls and drinks to the sofa. They sit close, dipping pieces of bread into the creamy soup Y/N prepared and keeping their eyes on the TV.

Harry is struggling to focus though when Y/N takes a glance at the clock and carries their empty bowls to the kitchen. He cranes his neck across the back of the sofa to see what she’s doing, but her back is to him as she runs the sink tap and rummages through the cupboard.

What he does see is her shuffling back to the living room with a small glass of water and a curled open palm carrying three little white tablets atop it.

Y/N settles beside him, handing him the glass with a tired smile and offering him the pills. “They’ll help with your head and throat, hun.” She curls into the sofa, her knees to her chest and close to Harry’s side. Y/N props one arm against the back of the pillows and her fingers find the long hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck, gently craving through the soft locks.

He watches her for a moment, completely dumbfounded and speechless if he’s honest.

Something like Y/N taking care of him when he’s sick shouldn’t have him feeling so fucked and in love, but it does. He’s teary-eyed because his girl is taking care of him off her own back. Because she isn’t complaining once or making anything about herself.

Because she’s loving him beyond the words of saying it.

And he cries.

Y/N’s stunned at the sight, thinks maybe he’s about to sneeze, but his body starts to tremble and she realises what’s going on. So, gently, she pries the glass and pills from his wanton hands and places them blindly on the coffee table before reaching back for him.

“Hey,” she coos.

Her hands caress the damp and flushed skin of his cheeks to bring Harry’s gaze to meet her reassuring one. “Why are you crying, H?” Her words are asked in a light and airy voice, one that isn’t serious as she chuckles softly, but he still knows she’s concerned for him.

He shakes his head and pulls her into his side, laughing at himself too because, why is he crying?

“Just never had anyone look after me apart from my mum before. Really fucking lucky to have you, love. No ones ever loved me like you do before.”

Her hand is sprawled across his gently heaving chest and she kisses his neck with a soft peck, offering a squeeze. His hand is brushing comfortingly up and down her arm but neither of them really know why he’s the one trying to comfort her.

Y/N swallows, reaching her right hand across her chest to find his hand that lingers over the front of her shoulder, and she interlaces their fingers, squeezing. “I wish I could show you how in love with you I am… no words can describe it.” She admits, bashfully.

Harry squeezes her hand, using his other to wipe his face and he laughs again, because he’s so in love that it hurts. It hurts so fucking good because he knows this is it for him. She is it for him. Together against the world. Their future, their everything.

“I know, baby. S’the same for me.”

His raw voice sends a shiver through her spine and her own eyes are watering with salty drops of emotion. It hurts her too. More so knowing nobody has ever treated him right, nobody has ever taken care of him and loved him like he’s always deserved.

“I’m always gonna love you like this, H. Always gonna put you before me. Put us before anything else. You’re it for me, hope I’m it for you, too.”

He grins, cranes his neck to look down at her through hooded eyes. “‘Course you’re it for me. Been my future since I fucking laid eyes on ya, pet. It’s us forever, yeah?”

She breathes, tears slipping but she nods her head. He doesn’t get the chance to stop her before she’s leaning up and smacking a kiss to his lips, eager and sweet. He doesn’t pull away either, as selfish as it is.

Y/N reads his mind, knows what he’s thinking. “Don’t care if I get a bloody cold. You’re worth it.”

“God, I fucking love you.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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sturnioloskyline · 2 months

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flu season

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: illness, crying, language, sickening fluff(get it?)

summary: you get the flu and don’t tell matt, so he gets worried takes things into his own hands

being sick sucks. no one knew that bettter than y/n, who was currently buried under blankets on her couch in her apartment in la. this morning she woke up sweating with a pounding headache and an inability to breathe through the congestion in her nose.

she called in sick to work and stayed in bed until noon before mustering up enough strength to get up and make a cup of ramen noodles. she then settled to watch a movie on the couch, where she ended up falling asleep.

not far away, matt nervously chewed on the skin in his cheek as he stared at his phone. he had sent 5 texts to his girlfriend today, none of them having received a response.

matt knew this meant something was wrong, because usually y/n would text him a sweet “good morning” the second she started her day. they weren’t fighting, at least that matt knew of, so of course matt was sent into a anxious spiral over the lack of responses from his girlfriend.

finally, matt ripped his eyes away from the screen, walking over to the kitchen where his two brothers were standing, giggling to each other. matt ignored them and grabbed his car keys from the counter, immediately catching the other triplets’ attention.

“matt, where are you going?” chris whined.

“y/n’s.” matt quickly replied, stuffing the keys into his pocket and heading for the garage. chris and nick immediately looked to each other in worry at the expression on their brother’s face.

“is everything okay?” nick asked matt cautiously.

“i don’t know, she isn’t responding to any of my texts,” matt rambled, putting on his shoes. “i’m just gonna go make sure she’s okay.”

matt rushed out the door before his brothers could say anything else. he got in his car and began driving over to y/n’s place. he chewed on his lip nervously as he drove, his anxiety only growing the longer he didn’t hear from y/n.

after what seemed like hours, matt parked outside y/n’s apartment building and made his way home to her front door. he rang the doorbell immediately and stepped back to wait for her.

inside the apartment, y/n jolted awake at the sound of her doorbell ringing. her head was throbbing in pain, her throat was scratchy, and the air in her living room felt ten times colder than it was when she fell asleep. she got up from her nest on the couch and shivered, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around herself.

the doorbell rang again, creating a sense of urgency as y/n tried to compose herself somewhat for whoever could be ringing her doorbell and disrupting her afternoon. she struggled to the door, messing with the lock weakly before finally swinging the door open.

“y/n,” matt sighed in relief immediately as y/n opened the door.

“matt?” y/n croaked out in shock. heat rose to her cheeks. she hadn’t invited matt over, and was unprepared for him to see her. matt and y/n had only been dating for a while, and she had never been sick around her ever. “what are you doing here?”

“i needed to see if you were okay. are you okay?” matt asked, his face scrunching slightly with worry once again as his eyes scanned over y/n’s pale face.

y/n didn’t know if it was the shock of her boyfriend showing up to her apartment, the embarrassment she felt from her sickly look, or how miserably sick she felt, but suddenly her eyes watered and her lip trembled as she shook her head at matt.

“oh, baby,” matt whispered, stepping into the apartment and wrapping his arms around y/n.

she immediately melted into his arms, a weight on her shoulders lifted as matt locked the door behind him and held y/n in his arms in silence. tears streamed down her cheeks as she sniffled into his jacket. matt leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“wanna sit down?” matt asked as y/n’s cries softened. y/n simply nodded, letting matt lead her back to the couch. when the sat down, matt wrapped one arm around y/n frame, letting her lean into him. “what’s wrong?”

“i caught the flu.” y/n sniffed, rubbing her sore eyes. “i feel like shit.”

“i’m sorry baby,” matt whispered into y/n’s hair, letting his fingertips graze up and down her arm.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with this,” y/n mumbled, suddenly shy of matt seeing her with her messy hair and in t-shirt and sweats.

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” matt scoffed, bringing his hand to her cheek and tilting her head up to place a soft peck on her lips. as if sensing her insecurity, matt giggled “you look so pretty right now.”

y/n blushed and leaned impossibly further into matt’s arms. “can you stay here with me?”

“of course,” matt spoke softly, pulling y/n closer to his chest. a few minutes later, y/n’s breathing slowed, and matt looked down at her head buried in his chest.

“babe?” matt whispered. y/n didn’t respond. matt smiled at his girlfriend’s sleeping figure before reaching over to grab one of the blankets from the couch and draping it over both of their bodies. matt leaned his face down to kiss the top of y/n’s head, before letting his own eyes flutter shut.

…

author’s note: pls don’t bully me this is my first try! i literally have never written on tumblr before and i haven’t written in like 2 years anyways, so. but if u have any advice or want a part 2 pls let me know!!!!!! OK BYE

#sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #fluff

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stuniolvs · 1 month

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ~ christopher sturniolo

summary.) chris reads bad comments about himself and you try to figure out what’s wrong.

warnings.) crying, chris being sad,

chris’ eyes watered as his eyes read over the words on his screen.

he was scrolling through the comments on his podcast liking the positive and funny ones, when he stumbled across the not-so-positive ones. now normally chris doesn't read them but he had decided to and it was a bad idea.

has anyone noticed chris is gaining weight?

god chris is so loud its so grading

i dont know how anyone stands chris he’s so loud and unbearable.

as chris read the last one more tears rolled down his face. he immediately thought to his girlfriend, did she think he was annoying?

maybe he should just tone it down. he thought as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

when he woke up in the morning he turned on his phone and saw a text from you

ill be over in and hour baby 💕

okay see you soon

you furrowed your brows at chris’ dry response. he hadn’t answered your texts last night and now a dry response in the morning? something was definitely up.

as you drove over to chris’ you just enter the door seeing chris and his brothers laying on the couch watching a movie in the background while matt and nick argue about something on the couch.

you glance over at chris and see him not including anything in the conversation and staring at his phone.

“chris! hes in the wrong! right?” nick yells, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“sure” chris mutters.

you’re surprised at chris’ response and the fact that nobody has noticed your presence.

“hi baby,” you walk over to chris seeing a beanie on his head and a white blanket draped over his lap.

“hey” he murmurs. “are you okay?” you ask.

chris feels his throat burn at your question. “yep im fine, jus’ tired” he sniffles. “okay,” you whisper laying your head on his shoulder.

a couple hours later you, matt, and nick are talking and chris still hasn’t contributed anything to the conversation.

you give nick a look and look down at chris, then back up at him. when nick shrugs his shoulders you tug chris’ hand “hmm?” he asks.

“c’mon” you tell him still tugging his hand to his room.

“come on lets lay down baby.” you order him and pull him onto your chest.

“okay chris, what’s wrong?”

the second the words leave your mouth tears fill his eyes. “do you think im annoying?” he asks voice breaking. your heart breaks sheeting the boy in front of you. “no chris, why would you say something like that?” you reply

chris hesitates, “there were comments about me” he mumbles passing you his phone.

as your eyes skim over the comments displayed on his phone your eyes tear up. how could people be so rude? “oh baby” you whisper pulling him into your chest, kissing his beanie-covered head.

“chris. you are not annoying, not one bit. you’re my favorite person to be around and i love you so much. also baby you’re fine as fuck so don’t listen to anything they say. you’re the farthest thing from annoying chris. those people who are saying those things are stupid.” you’re cut off by a sob. “baby,” you say worriedly pulling his head up to see tears running down his pink cheeks. “i love you so much baby” he whispers his voice soft and crackly. “i love you more chris and don’t ever believe what they say again m’kay?” he hums in response. you lean in to his lips catching them in a soft kiss. he kisses back it lasts for a couple minutes untill chris pulls away. “im hot.” he pants pulling his black sweatshirt over his head as ripping his beanie off “yes the fuck you are” you mumble under your breath chris blushes and hides his head in the crook of your neck he presses against you so you can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

“i love you sweet boy” you whisper

“i love you more baby.”

#sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo triplets imagine #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagines #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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m0llygunn · 2 months

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friends with b(aby)enefits (eddie munson x fem!reader)

MONTH ONE: Just friends—what a silly concept. After your accident, Eddie's been a full-fledged comedian, ill-conceived jokes left and right... neither of you are laughing though when his 'comedy routine' comes back to bite the both of you in the ass.

cw: 18+!, mature language, smut, pinv sex (unprotected again smh), pet names, vomiting, a lot of pregnancy related topics, potentially dramatized pregnancy symptoms (for the plot obvi, also idk anything about pregnancy), mention of readers period, mention of birth control an: lots of minor time jumps/cuts but we get some eddie pov!!! wc: 8.3k+

0 / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 00

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, both palms pressed flat to your belly.

“How are my girls doing today?”

Comically loud, heavily puckered kisses scattered over the top of your stomach, catching you by surprise— not at all expecting to be ambushed with facetious affection by your friend.

Eddie thinks he’s a comedian.

With about a month of his poor taste in jokes, he thinks he’s hilarious— and a self-proclaimed prophet because he 'just knows' that it's a baby girl. He's full of shit and you desperately try to not give him the benefit of finding his terrible jokes humorous. To your demise, from time to time, they get you.

His latest stunt was when he greeted you for your usual Friday get together. He swung the door open quick enough to stun you and immediately dropped to his knees. With a firm hold on your hips, he leaned in close to your belly, “Hi, baby girl. Did you miss daddy?” he cooed with big eyes and an even bigger smirk.

With a hand on his forehead, pushing him away, unfortunately you laughed, and unfortunately it feels like all of his jokes are coming back to bite the both of you in the ass. It’s hardly been 24 hours since the offending, but objectively funny joke, and neither of you are laughing now.

“Maybe you just ate something bad?” he offers with sheer, dumb, hope. “Or maybe it’s the flu?” he says, snapping his fingers together like he struck the gold mine of an idea.

Eddie can be as hopeful as he wants, but as you lower yourself down to the couch from vomiting your insides out in the bathroom, the panic in his eyes is evident.

“Maybe,” you reply dully, dropping your head to rest against the back of the couch.

“Do you want to lay down? I can bring you to my bed?” he asks with concern lacing his words.

“I’m—” you start, but with acid suddenly rising in your throat again, your eyes go wide and you jump from the couch with a renewed energy, just barely making it to the bathroom.

────────────

To put it plainly, you vomited two more times after. When you finally felt like you were done throwing up, with an empty stomach and a sore body, Eddie helped you to his bed and you slept off your spell of nausea. When you woke up a few hours later feeling a touch better, both of you decided the best choice would be to buy a pregnancy test.

“Just to be safe, right?” he had said, eyes burning into you as you laid sprawled across his bed, feeling no longer nauseous, but instead like an empty shell of a person. “We should buy one, right?” he asked again, eyes growing wider in your silence.

It felt like even moving your sight line to look at him took too much energy, but you met his gaze, and he nodded his head like he had made his own silent conclusion.

“We’ll go after, okay?” he said, continuing his one-sided conversation. Standing from the edge of the bed he wiped his palms down the front of his thighs before straightening out and rubbing his hand down from his mouth to his chin. He nods a second time, doing what you assume is him coming to another silent conclusion. “I’ll get you crackers?” he continued, eyebrows raised.

With your eyes locked on him, you swallowed the dryness in your mouth. You hadn’t done anything notable, hadn’t even attempted to answer him, but his face softened, mouth turning into a regretful frown.

“Sorry you’re sick,” he said, bending down to pat your head, letting his thumb trace gently across your temple. It was a tender movement and you absorbed the warmth of his contact, letting your eyes blink shut. “I’ll get you water too, okay? Water and crackers and we’ll see how you feel after that.”

Eddie’s a lot of things, but nurturing and soft, and with high levels of compassion is not exactly how you would describe him. He can be those things, but principally, he’s more of an asshole— but one that you love enough to keep around, obviously. But an asshole, nonetheless. The last time you had the flu he laughed at you and made fun of the way you threw up, albeit, it was when you both were in your teens, but regardless, he was a dickhead about it— and most recently, when you had gotten a cold, he ceaseless made fun of your constant sneezing and the blazing red tone of your sore nose from blowing it so much, calling you Rudolf and asking how ‘Big Red’ was doing at this time of the year. Asshole.

Dichotomously to the Eddie you’ve known all these years, he grazes the backside of his knuckles across your cheek, rubbing them back and forth gently. It's painfully obvious he doesn’t do this often from the way his hand jerks, finger nearly poking you in the eye, but you appreciate the notion. You know you must really look awful if he’s managed to compose this much compassion for you.

────────────

They say that nothing makes people more productive than the last minute. As the pharmacy's closing time approached, it was only then when either of you felt so inclined to even mention going to get the test.

After Eddie got you your water and crackers, you started feeling much better, and feeling much better meant it was easy to pretend like nothing had happened. You both unhealthily and aggressively ignored your potential futures by acting like it was any regular Saturday evening. You talked about your upcoming work week, and watched the usually shitty reruns on TV. Eddie made some freezer-burnt chicken nuggets, you warmed up some soup, and it was boring and uneventful, but it was the most comforting that boring and uneventful could be.

The sun began to set and it was like the ticking of Wayne's alarm clock on the coffee table beside you only got louder and louder as time went on.

“S’almost eight,” Eddie had eventually mumbled. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the TV as you found this particular old rerun episode of Mama’s Family to be the most interesting thing in the world, which is odd considering you usually change the channel whenever it's on.

With both of you sitting at the couch, feet kicked up, resting side by side on the coffee table, Eddie moves his foot far enough to just barely knock yours— an attempt to pull your attention away from the screen.

“The show’s almost done,” you say, turning your head towards him but keeping your eyes on the TV.

“The pharmacy closes at eight.”

“I feel fine,” you shrug.

Moving your feet from the tabletop, Eddie copies you, putting his feet down on the floor, but he goes a step further, sitting up from the couch. He stands, facing you, but you keep your eyes on the TV, ignoring him fivefold. He props his hand on his hip, arm bent at the elbow, one foot tap away from looking like someone's mother. You ignore him tenfold.

“You want to stay here while I go?”

“Go where?”

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” he laughs. You can hear the amusement in his voice. His hand drops from his hip and you look at him to see the smirk written across his face.

“Go where?” you double down. Huffing a laugh from his nose, he turns, opting to get himself ready, and begrudgingly, you do too. With your feet dragging through every step, you get in the car, and Eddie drives the two of you to the pharmacy.

────────────

Under the bright, white fluorescent lights of aisle number eight, you and Eddie stare your potential future down. An unnerving amount of tests sit on the shelf at eye level, some with cute little daisy packaging, others looking sterile and pharmaceutical.

“Why are there so many options?” Eddie asks, picking one up and flipping it to read the back. You look at the price tags and your mouth nearly drops to the floor.

“Why are they so expensive?” you ask, taking the box out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey,” he objects, reaching out for it. “That one says response in twenty minutes.”

“That one is, like, twice as much as that one,” you argue, pointing to another test.

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing the test from the shelf. “That one says a two hour response,” he continues, pointing at the exaggerated font on the front of the test in his hand, waving it in your face. “I’d rather be shitting my pants for twenty minutes than two hours.”

He’s acting normal, braggart and teasing, you can’t muster that same energy. Your stomach swirls and squeezes and does everything it shouldn’t do. Nerves or nausea, you’re not sure. A ceiling light flickers two aisles over and you can’t stand being here.

“Maybe…” you pause. Your hands start to turn clammy. “Maybe we shouldn’t get any,” you say, shifting in place. You turn to fully face Eddie, looking at him as he has a boxed test pulled close to his face, reading the side of it. “Maybe we should just go home.”

Eddie turns to you, brows furrowed. “No— what? You just spent the whole day throwing up, we gotta get something,” he says, looking at you like you’re insane. The ceiling light flickers again and you definitely feel insane.

It wasn’t the whole day, it was just the morning, you nearly object until you realize it doesn’t help your case.

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you chew on the edge of your nail, distracting yourself from the tremble in your limbs. From left to right and back again, you flutter your sight over the different options. There’s too many. Too many and it’s overwhelming.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. The weight of his arm settles around your shoulder, pulling you so that your bicep meets the edge of his chest in a half hug. “Don’t be nervous,” he continues, in a low coo. You step inwards, turning the half hug into a full hug. Taking a deep breath, all you can muster is a short nod of your head.

His arm moves from your shoulder, hand grazing down to your mid back. Focusing your attention on his touch, you take another deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. Smoky, woodsy, and a contradicting sweetness from whatever shampoo that was probably the cheapest and on sale.

“We’ll be fine, remember? You probably just ate something bad.” he says. He rubs his hand up between your shoulder blades and back down. You want to believe him, you really do.

“I’m scared,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, voice just as small as yours.

“It… it doesn’t feel like I ate something bad.” You swallow down the jagged edges of emotion that your voice gets stuck on. His hand, mid rub, pauses and you pull away enough to see him. His eyes glaze over with something you’re unsure of before he quickly blinks it back.

“Well…” he swallows. “What does it feel like then?” he asks, brows turned upwards. He's nervous, you’re nervous, and the light flickers again, reminding you where you are.

“Can we go home? Please.” Your nerves become far too jittery and it’s starting to turn into nausea again. Your stomach lurches and Eddie watches you for another moment, eyes searching yours until he nods, patting your back before pulling away.

“Yeah. I’ll just buy this one and we can go.” He takes your hand in his, twenty-minute-test in the other, and he guides you to the front of the store.

────────────

“It’s almost nine now, so it’ll be ready at…”

“9:20,” you say when Eddie takes a concerning amount of time doing the math. The ride home was quiet. Being out of the fluorescence helped your nerves, and as you got further and further away from the pharmacy, and closer and closer to Eddie’s place, you started to feel normal again.

“I knew that, I was just… thinking,” he responds. He sits up from where he was crouching in front of the dresser, using it as a table to put together the test.

Decidedly, it was just nerves that had put you on edge, that’s it. The test is nothing but precautionary, just to rule out what could have made you sick. Eddie joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Uh— before, we get a response,” he pauses, wringing his hands together. His eyes move down to his lap and your chest tightens. “I just want to say that whatever it is… I don’t regret what we did… and whatever it is, I’ll be there… for my girls.”

He looks at you, his smirk widening by the second, and you can’t help the snort of laughter from escaping. Like every other ill-timed joke that he's pervasively told over the last month or so, he gets you, and you appreciate it this time as it lessens the gnawing feeling in your belly.

Despite the joke, when you really look at him, with his lips spread in a smile, his eyes swarm with the same trepidations that you feel. He’s a comedian but even the comedian is human. You try your hand at lightening the mood.

“What if it’s not a girl?” you ask, playing along. He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours as he huffs a breath from his nose. Shaking his head in an almost mirthful way you think you were successful until his demeanour drops into something serious.

“What did you mean earlier?” he asks “When you said that it doesn’t feel like you ate something bad?”

“I just— I don't know. I just, I thought I had a feeling,” you explain. Eddie hums, eyes now set forward on the test. “I think I was just nervous, that’s all.”

Twenty minutes has never felt longer. Eddie accepts your answer at face value but doesn’t do much to show it. He doesn't do much in general, and neither do you. At the ten minute mark, his hand found your knee. At the fifteen minute mark you were curled under his arm, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed up and down your arm. In the last minute, you had taken his hand in yours, playing with his fingers as you watched the seconds tick by on his Casio watch.

21:19:59 turned to 21:20:00, and you turned to Eddie. Synchronously and in silence, you parted from each other. He stood and you sat. He moved to the dresser, and you held your breath.

With his back facing you, you watch with unblinking eyes as he reaches for the instructions. Humming to himself, your lungs ache. You try to parse the meaning behind his tone, or vibration, or pitch — or anything that could give way to what he's seeing, but it’s far too vague. Taking a deep and vital breath, filling your choking lungs, you're just about to ask, mouth already open when he speaks.

“It says negative.”

“It says negative?” you parrot in disbelief.

“Negative.” Eddie firmly answers.

There’s no way. You should feel a weight lift from you, but, evident avoidance aside, that feeling is still there, stronger if anything.

“I…” you start, interrupting the loud beat of silence. “I’m not saying I want to be pregnant… but I think it’s wrong, Eddie.”

“Wrong? How could it be wrong?” he says, turning around to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Aren’t they, like, only guaranteed to work like 95% of the time?”

“That’s still a lot of the time,” he says, copying your shrug.

“Yeah… but—” you shake your head, stopping yourself. This is what you wanted right? Why would you fight against the answer that you mostly hoped for? That you were already certain about in the car barely an hour ago. “Whatever. It’s probably right. I think… I think I’m just… tired.”

Eddie nods, agreeing with you. He turns enough to set the test down, abandoning cleanup for another time— gross, but when he asks you if you’re going to sleep over, you willingly ignore the unsanitary act of leaving a used pregnancy test to sit and simmer bacteria growth.

“You gonna sleep here?”

“Can I?’

“Of course,” he laughs.

────────────

If it were a peaceful morning, you would have woken up to the warm, red tinted sun coming into Eddie’s room through the maroon coloured bed-sheet-turned-blinds.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have woken up to shared warmth, his arm just barely tossed over your hip, hand resting in the dip of your waist.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have been able to bask in the meaning of having him beside you— what it meant beyond just shared warmth, what it meant beyond friendship.

If it were a peaceful morning, oh, if it were a peaceful morning…

If it were a peaceful morning, you wouldn’t have woken up to rising bile in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. It's not a peaceful morning, it's a race against time. With your hand cupped to your mouth, ripping yourself from the shared tangled sheets, tripping your way to the bathroom over the crap on the floor, time almost wins.

You made it by a stroke of luck with not a second to spare.

────────────

“It must be the flu,” you had croaked weakly. Eddie nodded, looking at you with tired eyes that had been startled awake by your fumbling and awful retching.

“Yeah, it’s definitely the flu.” It was not a whole hearted agreement, but there was no way any bad food would still be in your system. And with a negative pregnancy test, the flu is the only answer. Obviously.

The next day, in the quietness of your apartment, you kept a preemptive bowl next to your bed, just in case.

Thank god you did because it was the worst it’s been yet, and with your temperamental luck, you would not have made it to the bathroom this time.

────────────

“Hello?” Eddie answered from the other end of the telephone line.

Your untouched breakfast sits on the table as you stand in front of your wall-hanging phone, leaning against the counter to stop yourself from keeling over entirely.

“It's me.”

“Oh, hey, didn’t think I’d hear from you so early, what's up?” His near chipper attitude is grating and if you could strangle someone through the phone you might have muscled up the last of your strength and considered it.

“I’m still sick.” If you sound as awful as you feel, and equally as annoyed, it's because you are every terrible emotion in the dictionary. You are the essence of a bad mood, a side effect of how sick you’ve been.

“Shit—” he cursed. “I have work in thirty but I can stop by after?”

“Yeah, you already told me you were working,” you snark, because obviously he has work. It’s Monday.

“Do you want me to stop by after?

“I'm just telling you that I’m still sick.”

The call lulls and you can hear a slight rustle from the other end.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re sick and I feel bad,” he says, voice turning up like he's asking you if that is an alright answer. It’s not, and you twirl the phone cord between your fingers, distracting yourself from scoffing and saying something you know you’ll regret.

The call lulls for another moment and he clears his throat, coughing right into the receiver.

“Uh— aside from being sick… everything else okay?” he asks tentatively, pausing too frequently that it annoys you, even more so than you already are.

“I’m fine, I just feel like garbage.”

“Nothing else bothering you? I have a minute, we can talk?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re— and don’t bite my head off— but you’re not on your period?”

“Why would you ask that?” You meet his stupidity with a harsh and rightfully deserved defensiveness. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I was? You know, all things considered.”

His voice raises as he comes to his own defence. “Well, I just thought… 'cause you thought that maybe there was a chance that the test was wrong, but then we agreed it wasn’t and…”

“And?”

“And you’re in a bad mood.”

You hang up the phone and when it rings again, you let it.

────────────

Eddie spent the whole day being eaten alive by his thoughts. You said you had a feeling, and Eddie knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t joke around about stuff like this. He would, he has, but you wouldn't.

Since the moment you told him that you weren’t on birth control, he had been thinking about it. Hypothetically, having a kid with you wouldn’t be the worst. He’d actually… like it… maybe? Would he say that to you? No, but it's not an awful thought.

Sure he made jokes out of it, but that was just his ill mannered way of accepting the fact that he kind of, maybe, potentially, would like having a kid with you… and being more than just friends. But he could never tell you that, so he made stupid, stupid jokes.

But now that having a baby with you is less hypothetical, he’s fucking scared. Not because it’s with you, but because he might be having a fucking baby. That’s terrifying in and of itself.

When you first started feeling sick, he let himself really believe for about an hour that maybe you had eaten something bad, but in his heart of hearts, he knew. There was no way. Four weeks and 3 days after he came inside you— not that he's keeping track of the days— and you’re suddenly experiencing ‘food poisoning’, even though you didn’t eat anything particularly abnormal or poison-like?

You’re pregnant. So fucking pregnant. There’s no way you’re not.

“Hey, Bill. You have kids, right?” Eddie had asked as he sat down at the break table with one of his more favourable colleagues.

Bill, more or less his mentor— or more eloquently put, the kind soul that's been helping him work his way up to being an actual mechanic and not just the guy who cleans and sweeps up after them like he’s been doing for the last year and a bit. He’s an older gentleman, doesn’t do much small talk, is in a permanent old man bad attitude, but he’s a good guy— reminds him of Wayne at times. Eddie trusts him enough, especially not to go talking about him around town.

“Uh-huh. Grandkids too,” he answers, barely looking up from his newspaper. Eddie knew this of course, but he couldn't think of any other way to approach the topic.

“Right, sorry,” Eddie apologizes, wringing his hands out of nervousness and dragging out the point of interrupting Bill’s lunch break.

“You gonna be a father?” Bill asks bluntly.

Father? Eddie's familiar with a particular ‘F’ word, uses it way too fucking much in fact. Father, on the other hand, is an ‘f’ word that was barely in his vocabulary, he could go weeks without letting that word pass through his thoughts, let alone it being a descriptor of his very own character.

Eddie’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open as his breath stutters like a kid getting caught red handed. “No.” he stumbles to answer. “Uh— maybe. I don’t know. We don’t know.”

“So what are you askin’?”

“Your girlfriend— uh, wife—”

“Wife,” Bill answers with an annoyed ring to it.

“Right, your wife… What was she like when she got pregnant?”

Bill shakes his head, ignoring the question. “Did she take a test? They have those now. Can buy ‘em at the store,” he gruffs.

“We did, but it was negative. She… she said they’re wrong sometimes though, and she thought that… she thought that maybe it was wrong?”

Bill sets down his newspaper, the edges of both his fists meeting the surface of the table top. He looks to Eddie, catching his flighty eye contact, giving him his full attention.

“Morning sickness?”

“She’s been sick the last couple of days.”

“Hormonal?”

“Hormonal?” Eddie asks, quirking a brow. Bill rolls his eyes, not unlike how Wayne has done time after time.

“Bad mood? Mood swings?”

“Kind of?”

“I won’t go into detail because I respect my wife,” Bill says, eyeing Eddie through slanted eyes. “Any changes that aren’t to do with her mood?” he asks, looking down the slope of his nose.

“Huh?” Eddie thinks hard, trying to decipher what Bill means. Bill gives Eddie an encouraging nod that quickly turns short-tempered.

“Her body? Any changes?” Bill grumps.

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh— I don't know. She’s not really my girlfriend, we’re just friends.”

“Just a friend you got pregnant?” Bill’s near-permanent-scowl breaks into a smile, lips turning at the corners in a sadistic way, eyes gleaming with taunting amusement. Eddie feels his palms start to sweat.

“So you think she’s pregnant?”

“I think you’re up shits creek with a turd for a paddle, kid. Gettin’ a friend pregnant,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he laughs to himself. He fixes his newspaper back upright, picking up where he left off in the classifieds.

“Well, we’re good friends. I— she… we—” Eddie thinks about telling him that it’s you— Bill knows of you. Eddie’s talked about you enough, but he bites his tongue for the same reason that he didn’t go to Wayne about this— it would be all, ‘just ask her out’, ‘quit pussyfootin’ ‘round it,’ but he doesn’t get it, he can’t just ask you out. He—

“You like her more than a friend.” Bill says, making Eddie freeze. He opens his mouth to speak, to deny, to confirm, to anything, but nothing comes out. “Oh you got it bad, huh?” Bill continues with a teasing smile.

“C’mon, it’s not—” Eddie tries to object but Bill sees right through it.

“You love her?”

“I…” Eddie swallows, thinking over his answer. “I don’t know…maybe?”

“Well, you got an interesting journey ahead of yous if she really is pregnant,” he laughs again.

And with that entirely unhelpful conversation, Eddie spent the rest of the day not only ruminating on you being pregnant, but now, his feelings for you as well.

────────────

After work he went straight home, showered, got redressed in sweats and the cleanest shirt he could find and beelined straight for your apartment. He made one quick stop at the pharmacy but quicker than even he anticipated, he was at your front door.

He knocked, and then there you were, opening the door for him, not exactly smiling— but not looking angry either, or sick, which is a good start.

Greeting him with a quiet ‘hello’, you opened the door wider. He stepped into your apartment, and like he mentally rehearsed, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. Before he could look at your reaction, he turned, hiding his face behind the curtain of his still damp hair, and kicked his shoes off.

He’s just trying to get back on your good side. After this morning— your bad mood, and then him only making it worse by asking if you were on your period, which he knew you weren’t because you said that it's been weird since you stopped birth control but… yeah, he’s just trying to get on your good side, definitely not anything more than that.

Clearing his throat and praying his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel, he tries to move on. “How’re you doing?” he asks. You spare him, and you don’t mention the kiss nor give him any weird reactions— which is good, right? You would tell him off if you didn’t want him to kiss you, right?

“I’m doing fine now,” you reply, turning to lead him to the kitchen. He follows behind, humming an acknowledgement. At your counter is a full, waiting dish that looks like and smells like spaghetti. You sit back in your seat, and he takes the one next to it, putting his brown shopping bag down in front of him.

He watches you as you bring a forkful of your dinner to your mouth. “You’re eating, you must not be feeling sick anymore?”

“No, I stopped feeling sick around lunch and then I was starving,” you say through a second mouthful, swirling your third bite around the fork.

“Nice,” he nods. Eddie’s not sure of much, not now, hardly ever, but you feeling better around lunch means you only felt sick in the morning, and you being sick in the mornings falls exactly under the conditions of morning sickness… and that means…

Swallowing down his thoughts in a thick gulp, he reaches for the pharmacy bag. “Well, I bought another test just in case,” he rushes out quickly, moving to take out the good part of his shopping haul to lessen the blow if the test somehow pisses you off. “—and I also bought you—”

“Liquorice! Oh my god and popcorn,” you say excitedly, interrupting him with the loud crinkles of you grabbing for the package of candy, quickly ripping it open.

Eddie watches you closely, the way your eyes light up for some of your favourite foods. He was taking a risk, buying you snacks when he knew that you’ve been sick but it was that or flowers and flowers seemed a little too… forward?

Your reaction to the snacks though, it’s not abnormal, but it’s not exactly normal either… a bit too… ravenous? To be fair, you were sick and now you’re feeling better, maybe you are just extra hungry…. But then again, there's also your bad mood earlier and sure you felt like shit from being sick, but you were usually pretty happy whenever you talked to him. He wasn’t used to all of these… mood swings.

Symptom after symptom, his thoughts finally bubble out. “I think you should take the test again,” he says, interrupting you as you rip open the bag of popcorn. You pause and he holds his breath.

With a shrug, you resume your movements, reaching into the bag and grabbing a handful. “But I feel fine?” you say, waving Eddie off.

“I think… maybe just in case?”

“Here, sit down, I’ll get you some spaghetti,” you ignore him, standing from your seat. “It’s so good, I swear. This is my second plate full.” You grab a dish from the cupboard, serving some up from a pot on the stove top without waiting for a reply from Eddie— not that he had one, he was too stunned by your unconcerned mood to think of one.

Adding a slice of garlic bread to the side of the dish, you place it down in front of him, quickly moving back to your own seat to dig into the popcorn and finish your own meal.

“You didn’t go to work today?” he asks after mumbling a polite thank you.

“No, I called in. When I got the promo, I got like six extra sick days, plus vacation time, so I figured I might as well use them,” you shrug indifferently.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, taking a quick glance at you before looking back to his plate of food, moving his fork around the plate absentmindedly. “Do you happen to have… better insurance with your job now?” he asks, attempting to match your aloofness.

You pause your fork before shoving it in your mouth, opting to turn to look at Eddie. He purposely avoids your eye contact, continuing to swirl his fork in his food.

“Why?”

“Just curious,” he shrugs. “Whenever I get my promo—” he pauses. “—if I get the promo, Coop gives out some shitty insurance plan. Was just wondering what you were getting these days,” he continues nervously.

“I have insurance.”

“Good.”

“Why’s it good?” you ask, squinting your eyes at him.

“Is it not good? You get sick, you don’t have to pay as much— I think that’s objectively good.”

“Fine,” you relent. You stare at him for another moment, but when you finally go back to your food, Eddie lets out a long breath that he was holding in before going back to his food.

He finishes his plate while lost in a daze of thoughts. There’s no way you weren’t pregnant. Absolutely no way. He doesn’t know much about pregnancy, that’s for sure, but this is checking off every single box in his very limited knowledge of symptoms.

He only withdrew from his head when he felt you staring at him yet again. You had pushed your plate back on the counter, head resting in the palms of your hands as you watched him intently with a particular glint of something in your eyes, something that he’s only seen two other times.

“Hi?” he says shyly, cheeks tingeing pink.

“You kissed me on the cheek when you came in,” you state.

“Yeah, I did,” he nods, cheeks deepening to crimson under your close watch.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you ask, stretching your leg out under the counter, running your foot along his shin.

Eddie chokes on his food before looking at you with wide eyes. Elbow bent to cover his mouth as he clears his throat from his sputtering, his eyebrows raise high, hiding under his bangs as he works through your suggestion.

“Like stay the night or just stay the night?” he asks, eyes burning into you out of shock.

“I just kept thinking about before… and, you know…” you say, shrugging, hooking your foot around his calf.

“So like, stay the night?” he asks, eyes glimpsing down at your outstretched leg.

With a sly smile, you nod your head making Eddie’s eyes grow even wider.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m really sure.”

Eddie takes a final bite of his food before pushing back in his chair. You excitedly stand, taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to your room.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to do when you’re both still up in arms about being pregnant, but Eddie would be a fool to say no to you. He physically couldn’t, has never had it in him. It doesn’t help that he really likes you and might potentially love you. And after all, he’s just a simple man.

────────────

“Harder.”

Your desirous voice echoing off of wallpapered bedroom walls, airy moans embellishing every thrust, Eddie does his best to give you what you want. Round two and countless of your orgasms later, you’re still begging Eddie to keep going.

Round one was fantastic. Sincerely earth shattering and left him winded and full heartedly wishing he took up track in his freshman year instead of smoking cigarettes.

The night started with you riding him, insisting that he laid back, and who was he to say no to that? He watched you intently, grasping at your hips with each rise and fall, feeling the way your body nearly trembled over his own as you made yourself feel better and better. He was completely enamoured by the way your mouth rounded into a perfect oval, the way your eyes welled as you rose up and down, enjoying yourself truly and utterly. Then, when he took over, you were begging, whimpering, and moaning for him. He swore he had never came that hard in his life.

With the long day of worrying and his stress induced sleepless nights wearing on him, he was nearly nodding off when you were on him for round two. It was exciting— you needing him like this, and his cock was kicking up again before he could process it.

You came again, adding another tally to the growing tab of how many times you’ve come tonight. This time, you were on your hands and knees, back in a deep arch as he watched the recoil of your ass with each of his thrusts.

The only thing on his mind was you. How you felt so perfect around his cock, how pretty you sounded whining and begging for him to keep going, how beautiful you are, and how badly he just wanted to keep making you feel good, but then it was like a switch flipped in his head.

He heard it once, how pregnant women would sometimes get really horny. Insatiably horny— and you just kept asking for more, begging for him to keep going. You were cumming and still managing to ask him to keep going. He had never had sex like this before.

His skin that had grown damp throughout the night, covered in a permanent sheen of sweat, now drew dry, just like his mouth. His thighs burned, his calves begged for a break, his balls were aching from staving off his own release, and now there was very little uncertainty in his mind that you weren’t pregnant.

Mid thrust, you clench around him, stealing his already stolen breath, pulling from his meandering thoughts. He refocuses his gaze on the bounce and jiggle of your ass and the sweet noises singing from your lips before letting his palms slide down the slope of your arched back, giving himself better leverage to keep going.

There's no doubt in his mind that he can finish this round. Not only would he feel like an asshole if he tapped out now, but he would also feel like the biggest idiot because this has been it for him. This is the orbiting thought in his mind, the exact scenario that he conjures up in his imagination during his alone time.

Swallowing thickly and taking an open mouth breath, he moves a hand from your back to wrap around your torso, finding your clit with his finger tips. “One more. Gonna give you one more, pretty girl,” he rasps, voice horse and ragged from his near panting. Your back arches even deeper, hips pressing back into his as you let out a wavered moan.

“Feels so good, Eddie. Love your cock, feels so good,” you cry, taking heavy, moaning breaths between words, your voice staggering with each of his thrusts that push you further up into the mattress.

“Mhm, know you love it, baby. Sucking me right in, n' so wet for me," Eddie says through exasperated breaths, words coming out babbled from his focus on not cumming as your walls squeeze him harder and harder.

“Want you to cum inside me again,” you whimper out. Eddie doesn’t answer, he just thrusts harder, rolling his hips against your backside, making you moan louder and giving you the last of every ounce of energy he has left in him.

When he feels your pussy start to flutter, tensing, and pulsating around him again, he knows you're close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” he breathes, voice only getting lower and more ragged from the absolute marathon of a night.

“Gonna cum, Eddie.” Your voice rises so high in volume that Eddie's certain your neighbours can hear.

“Cum for me baby, wanna feel you squeeze my cock one last time tonight,” he grunts, starting to feel delusional with the way his head spins. He grips his free hand on your hip, pressing his fingers into your skin and grounding himself to you, trying to push away some of the daze to think clearly.

Eddie feels your tightness pulling him in almost immediately. He holds off his own release for as long as he can, bringing you through your orgasm until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls out just in time for his own release, sending his cum spurting over your lower back as his chest practically explodes, burning lungs having all the air expelled from them in a wheeze as he stutters through his orgasm.

After taking a few, long moments to catch his breath, he reaches for the same towel he used earlier, wiping you clean before falling to your side feeling absolutely exhausted.

“Wanted you to cum inside,” you say pitifully, cuddling closer to him.

“Can’t, you're not on birth control, we didn’t have a condom.”

“You did it before,” you pout.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, exhaling deeply.

Yeah and now he's 99.9% sure you’re pregnant.

“It’s late, got work tomorrow,” Eddie says, eyes unwillingly fluttering closed as you push your way closer to him, pressing your bare chest to his, speckling gentle kisses along his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pressing another kiss to his skin. He barely has the energy to respond and you deflate against him with a sigh.

“Baby,” he coos, frowning when he looks at your lower lip jetting out in a pout. As much as he’d love to keep going, he physically could not go for another round. His cock might let him despite it feeling nearly raw from all the friction, but his aching body definitely would not. “Let me just hold you, okay? We can cuddle,” he offers to try to fix your frown. It only works the slightest bit, relaxing the crinkle in between your brows.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his hold. You let out a quiet whine at first, clearly upset, but you eventually relax into him, melding to his side. It’s not long before Eddie’s out cold, completely wiped clean of energy.

────────────

You woke up, ripping yourself from Eddie’s grasp, hand over your mouth, rushing for the bathroom again. Eddie follows behind you, barely alert, but at your side, rubbing your back.

When you were certain everything inside your stomach was gone, you sat back, leaning against the edge of the tub.

“Think I should take that test.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

────────────

With the anticipation of waiting another painstaking twenty minutes, you sit on the ledge of the tub in your bathroom, watching Eddie’s back as he tinkers with the test again. The tailbone pain from sitting on the ceramic edge is nothing compared to the swirling nausea growing from your nervousness.

He had sat with you for a few minutes like the last time, but got up halfway through to get you water. He dallyed in the kitchen for a few minutes, and it was far too casual for you, especially too casual for the dramatic dungeon master himself. It was almost unnerving.

At the fifteen minute mark, he sat with you again, throwing an arm around your shoulder, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into him. If his casualness was him disguised his nervousness, he doesn’t let on.

This time, at the twenty minute mark, his watch beeped the grating default Casio alarm, and with the chime of a button being pressed, he stands, turning his back to you as faces the vanity. You don’t follow him, you couldn’t at this point, you feel welded to the tub ledge.

Unlike last time, he doesn’t look at the instructions. He doesn’t hum. He doesn’t make any noise, he just turns to you, his body blocking the test. You feel your heart rate pick up, but he doesn’t give anything away with facial expressions or body language.

His mouth opens, he takes a breath, you hold yours once again.

“Well…” he starts. “You were right.” His tone is flat and you blink, trying to clear your confusion.

“I was right?”

“Yeah.” he shrugs. “About the last test being wrong.”

“No.”

“Yup,” he affirms, putting a plosive pop at the end of the word. Too casual.

With your heart pounding in your chest, thumping miles in minutes, you couldn’t process this even if you wanted to, so you don’t. You deny it.

“You’re lying,” you state, ending your words with a light huff of laughter. Surely, this is all a joke. Eddie’s a comedian, right? Ill-conceived jokes left and right over the last month, this has to be one of them.

He doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t light up. He doesn’t laugh. “Come look,” he says, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head.

You sit up from the ledge of the tub, moving to stand next to Eddie at the counter. He pulls out the instructions, pointing to a diagram.

“If the liquid turns blue, that means pregnant."

You look at the test, not bothering to look where Eddie points. Blue liquid sits where any other colour should be.

“It’s blue,” you state.

“Pregnant.”

Pregnant.

The moment is eerily still. In the movies this is where the happy couples jump with excitement. In TV shows, they call family and let them know their good news. In commercials, they celebrate. They hug, they smile, they cry happy tears together.

Eddie’s your best friend, but you’re not a couple, this wasn’t planned. So you both stand in silence, staring at the positive test.

“What do we do?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“We could go get something to eat? I can call out and we can rent a movie or something?”

“Something to eat?” you laugh. It’s positive and he’s thinking about eating?

“Yeah, you should try to eat something,” he shrugs, turning to look at you.

“Eddie. I’m—” Pregnant, you go to say but the word dies on your tongue. “Why are you not freaking out?” you say, staring at him with wide eyes trying to understand how he’s not affected at all by this. You’ve known Eddie a long time and he’s not exactly the calm and collected type.

“Well…” he shrugs. “When you said that you thought the first one was wrong, I trusted you more than the test. Believe me, I’ve been freaking out, but now… it’s, kind of, settled in already, I guess.”

“Settled in?” you say, jaw dropping in shock. It’s your body, you were mostly certain you were pregnant— in denial at times, yes, but you knew, yet having it confirmed is still shell-shocking. How has it already ‘settled in’ for him?

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “If you want to keep it, I’m happy. If not, I’ll support you.”

“Happy?” you say, bewildered.

“Well… yeah. We’ve... we've been friends forever. A kid that’s part you and part me? That’s fucking awesome, how could I not be happy, y’know?” he says, moving backwards to sit on the ledge of the tub. He leans forward with his hands on his knees, watching you with eyes that are too calm. Too, too, too calm about this.

In your quiet mental chaos, you take a final look at the blue liquid before moving to sit next to him. Your skin prickles with cold shivers but you feel hot all over, like there's a flame of nerves in your belly and a hot air balloon in your chest making each breath feel laboured.

“I’m…” you stumble over your words. “I— pregnancy is so— Eddie,” you breathe out. Your eyes inevitably start to water.

“Pregnancy is so Eddie?” he laughs before turning towards you, noticing your eyes turning glossy. His face drops immediately, features turning soft as his brows turning up in concern. “Hey,” he hushes. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine, remember? Everything will be fine,” he assures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder again, bringing you closer to him in a hug.

“I know, I just—” you force a breath in your lungs. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You can cry, it's okay,” he says quietly, and unfortunately, each of his nearly-whistled, whispered consonants pulls out a wave of fresh tears from you. His hand rubs over your shoulder and your cheeks only grow damper. “It’s okay to cry,” he repeats and you press your face to the cotton of his shirt. He pulls you in tighter, rubbing your back in long, steady strokes.

Eddie’s seen you cry more than a handful of times— more than several handfuls of times, but this is substantial— it just feels different. Different because you’re pregnant. You’re going to have a baby. A baby with Eddie. Your best friend Eddie. Eddie, who you’ve had sex with three times. Eddie, who you’ve known forever, who you’ve spent day after day with, as a friend. Friends. You’re pregnant. Holy shit.

Your mind races and you divert your thoughts before you stray down that road. “It’s gonna be half you and half me,” you say, mostly to yourself, repeating his earlier sentiment.

“Half you, half me,” he echoes. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and yeah, this is different— different because Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the top of your head. He doesn’t give you kisses on the cheek either. Eddie’s given you noogies, he’s butted foreheads with you, even flicked you on numerous occasions, all particularly during your shared middle school years, but kisses? Kisses are unheard off. What you guys have been doing lately is unheard of.

“We had sex and now we’re having a baby,” you state plainly, trying to bring any coherency to the situation, desperately needed to hear the unheard of.

“We did and now we are,” Eddie laughs.

“You came inside me and now there’s a baby in there,” you continue, hearing every syllable of your own voice.

“That’s—” Eddie laughs quietly again. “Yeah, that’s how it works.”

“I had morning sickness.”

“Yes you did. And mood swings.”

Pause.

“No I didn’t!” you gasp, pulling back from Eddie to look at him with a scowl.

“You kind of did,” he smiles, dimples set deep in his grin.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were also insatiably horny. I was getting leg cramps all night because of you,” he says, bopping your nose, making you scrunch it. Asshole.

“I was not ‘insatiably horny,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Well… if it’s any consolation, if you wanted to have sex again, I could cum in you now, ‘cause you can’t get any more pregnant than you already are,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, purposefully batting his lashes, playing up a faux coyness just to get a rise out of you. Such an asshole.

You respond by hitting him in the stomach, followed by pushing him until he almost falls into the tub, grabbing onto the shower curtain to stop himself.

“Hey— hey, you were the one asking for it!” he defends, corners of his lips turned up in an untimely smirk.

“I’m never having sex again,” you shriek, burying your face in your hands.

“Well, let’s not make drastic choices right now,” he says amusedly, bringing you back in for a hug.

“I’m serious. Never again. Not with you, not with anybody. Ever.”

“Let’s just get some fresh air, maybe we’ll start thinking straight about this,” he laughs, pulling you to stand up and guiding you out of the bathroom.

Pregnant.

tags: @princesatracionera @venuslayla23-blog @mastermindmiko @tlclick73 @yujyujj @josephquinnsfreckles @uselessnewt @animechick555 @prestinalove @sluggzillaa @daisyridleyss (if you want to be tagged for the next part I kindly ask that you please reblog!)

thank you for reading! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader

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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

Text

fever (what a lovely way to burn)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: M

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, character with fever/illness, mild sensual content

Summary: request: "since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly."

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–” He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.” “N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

Monday, October 5, 1891

Even a month after the start of term, it’s unseasonably warm in the Highlands. The heat from the dog days of summer persists well into the arrival of autumn, permeating the ancient stone walls of the castle and settling like a thin layer of fog across Hogwarts’ students.

Professor Sharp’s N.E.W.T.s-level Potions class meets promptly at nine o’clock every morning. Despite the early time slot, the dungeon-level classroom starts to become warm rather quickly thanks to the heat of two dozen bodies and six potion stations, each with their flickering flames preheating the students’ pewter cauldrons.

Your little trio is usually the last to arrive from breakfast. Sebastian sidles up to the doorway just as Professor Sharp is preparing to close it, gallantly offering to hold it open for you and Ominis as you take your time sauntering down the hall, arms linked together and chatting happily about the latest gossip to have surfaced in the Great Hall.

Then you settle in at the potions table squarely in the middle of the classroom, which you’d unabashedly claimed at the start of term. (Ominis can hear Professor Sharp most clearly here, and Sebastian, as always, gets to remain the center of attention.)

Finally, with Ominis’ dictation quill hovering over his parchment, Professor Sharp begins his daily discourse.

“Dittany, as you’ll recall, is one of the most useful herbs for creating a wide range of healing draughts,” he explains, showing off a tendril of the fiercely pink plant clipped from Professor Garlick’s greenhouse just that morning. “Can anyone give me an example of one?”

“Wiggenweld Potion, sir,” Amit chimes in.

“Very good, Mister Thakkar,” Sharp replies with an approving nod. “Another?”

Adelaide Oakes timidly raises her hand. “Essence of Dittany, sir?”

“Well done, Miss Oakes,” he murmurs. “Though not as effective as a properly-brewed bottle of Wiggenweld, dittany on its own can be used to craft a powerful restorative tonic – especially useful in preventing the occurrence of scars. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Then Professor Sharp glances around the room expectantly. “One more, perhaps?”

“Moustache paste, sir?” Sebastian mumbles under his breath, and you quickly elbow him in the side.

“What was that, Mister Sallow?” Professor Sharp drawls.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Er, the Antidote to Common Poisons, perhaps?”

Professor Sharp levels Sebastian with a dubious look. “I’m afraid not. While dittany is a broadly useful herb, its powers are generally limited to healing, not curing. When considering its uses, think ‘paper cut,’ not ‘influenza.’”

You raise your hand and ask, “Sir, are there any potions that do cure illnesses?”

“Yes, in fact,” Professor Sharp answers. “The Pepperup Potion will quickly resolve any common colds or cases of the flu, with the enigmatic side effect of generating steam that will pour from your ears for hours on end.”

You wince a bit. “I suppose that’s worth being over a cold in a day.”

“I should think so,” he replies with a slight grin. “So has the majority of the wizarding world since the twelfth century.”

As Professor Sharp segues into a lecture on the history of healing potions, you pull out a piece of parchment and start to take down some notes.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What does Pepperup Potion taste like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve only had it once, and it was a decade ago.”

You frown. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t drink it,” Sebastian says simply. “I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

You blink, surprised. “You’re… allergic? How did you even discover that about yourself?”

“Oh, it was gruesome,” Ominis chimes in gleefully.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well, I had my suspicions as a child when my parents gave me Pepperup Potion and steam poured out of my ears, nose, and mouth for a full week. Simply suffering through the cold would have been better.”

“And then?” you prompt.

“Well… in our third year, Anne and I made some Polyjuice Potion,” Sebastian admits, glancing around furtively. “We wanted to see if we could attend our classes all day as each other without anyone noticing the difference.”

“And Polyjuice Potion has bicorn horn,” you surmise.

Ominis looks delighted. “They were both in the Hospital Wing for three days, stuck as half-formed versions of each other.”

You gasp in disbelief. “That sounds awful!”

“It was the one and only time in their lives they were truly identical!” Ominis crows. “‘Sebastianne,’ we called them.”

You can’t help but giggle at Ominis’ delight while Sebastian sulks.

“In any case,” Sebastian grumbles, “I can’t take Pepperup Potion anymore, but luckily I never get sick.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically. “Everyone gets a common cold once in a while.”

“Not me,” he says proudly. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. At the very least, if I have been sick, it must have been so mild that I wasn’t slowed down in the slightest – no need for Pepperup, thanks.”

“I’d be careful, Sebastian,” Ominis demurs. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate, would we?”

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian turns to his potions station and begins to roughly chop some dittany leaves for a new healing potion Sharp intends to teach that afternoon. He glances up surreptitiously while you tie your hair back with one of those green ribbons you like to keep around your wrist for when the Potions classroom becomes especially humid with cauldron steam.

Though it’s unwise to lose focus while holding a knife, Sebastian has become quite skilled at multitasking while tending to his lovesick heart with stolen glances and half-formed daydreams.

He becomes so distracted staring at the column of your neck that when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy, he merely attributes it to the thick, heavy air in the room.

—

Tuesday, October 6, 1891

“You look dreadful,” you tell Sebastian cheerfully as you take a seat at breakfast.

Across from you, Sebastian looks a sight. His generally unruly hair is sticking up in every direction, and his face, which until this morning had still been sun-kissed and freckled from his time carrying out summer chores in Feldcroft, is ghostly pale.

“Cheers,” he grumbles, his head in his hands as he stares down at a plate full of untouched tattie scones.

You know for a fact they’re his favorite. In fact, you’ve stolen countless scones from the Great Hall on weekends when he treats himself to a bit of a lie-in just to make sure there are some left for when he finally emerges, hair rumpled and cheeks creased with pillow lines.

“Late night?” you ask him as you pour yourself some juice.

“The opposite, actually,” Ominis explains. “Sebastian was asleep before I even finished my Runes assignment last night, and I practically had to drag him out of bed this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you comment, frowning. “You’re usually up half the night reading. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sebastian shrugs weakly. “I’m fine, I just… It’s dreadfully warm in the castle, and my head is aching.”

Without thinking, you reach across the table and press the back of your hand against his forehead.

“You’re quite hot,” you mumble.

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers, his eyes going wide. “What did you do that for?”

“You have a fever,” you explain to him. “Old Muggle trick. And your eyes are quite glassy. I think you might be coming down with something.”

Ominis unsubtly slides further down the bench.

“I’m not sick,” Sebastian protests. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired.”

You eye him warily, and as if to prove that he’s not ill, Sebastian lifts one of his hoarded scones to his mouth and takes a bite.

“See?” he asks with his mouth full. “M’fine.”

You grimace. “Lovely.”

Sebastian determinedly joins you and Ominis for Potions and manages to remain upright until the very end of class. He sways just a bit as he gathers up his belongings, and you offer him your shoulder while you make your way toward the stairs to Divination.

He balks when he sees the twisting spiral steps.

“On second thought,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll skive off today and get some rest.”

“Will you be alright?” you ask him concernedly. “I can come with you…”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll be grand, I promise. Save a seat for me at dinner, will you?”

Later that evening you linger in the Great Hall until the last of dinner melts through the tables down to the kitchens below, but Sebastian never shows up.

—

Wednesday, October 7, 1891

“You do not want to go in there,” Ominis tells you warningly. “Trust me, he’s a mess.”

You scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sebastian still hasn’t emerged from his dormitory in nearly eighteen hours, and you’re starting to worry for him. Ominis had brought him back some food from dinner the night before, but according to him, it had gone untouched.

When he’d failed to show his face at breakfast, you knew you had to step in.

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” Ominis tries. “Sebastian is hardly a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

“He’s our best friend,” you remind Ominis. “I really don’t care if he’s not entirely put together.”

Ominis opens his mouth as if to say more, and then seemingly changes his mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Professor Sharp you’re tending to Sebastian, and I’ll ask Amit if you can borrow his notes.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ominis,” you breathe, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “What would we do without you?”

“Rot in Azkaban, most likely,” he grumbles, which… is fair.

Once Ominis leaves for class, you gently knock on the seventh-year boys’ dormitory door. “Sebastian? Can I come in?”

Through the door, you hear him whine, “Go ‘way.”

“Sebastian,” you call out patiently. “Ominis told me you’re sick, and you haven’t gotten out of bed in too long. I’m coming in.”

He protests weakly from his bed as you open the door and slip inside, carefully pressing it closed behind you. As you’d expected, his other roommates have all gone for the day. Only Sebastian remains – or at least, you think it’s Sebastian.

All you can see sticking out from underneath the pile of pilfered blankets on his bed is a mess of curly, brown hair.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” he mumbles from beneath the covers. “...I think I’m sick.”

“Finally facing the music, are you?” you tease him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” he groans. “I’ve never been this ill before.”

“Should I take you to see Nurse Blainey?” you ask him. “I know you can’t have Pepperup Potion, but perhaps she has something else that would help.”

“No,” he sighs. “Ominis already sent for her, she said I’m a dafty and I’ll be fine in a coupl’a days.”

You bite back a laugh at Sebastian’s deteriorating accent; for how posh he usually sounds, apparently that rougher Feldcroft vernacular tends to slip out when he’s feeling poorly.

“Poor lamb,” you croon. “Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten?”

“M’not hungry,” he sulks. “Ominis made me drink some water before he left.”

You hum softly as you start to slowly pull his piles of blankets down low enough that you can see his face. Quickly you realize that Ominis had been exaggerating – Sebastian doesn’t look entirely a mess.

His eyes are a bit wet and glassy, you observe, and his nose is bright red from persistent rubbing with a handkerchief abandoned on his bedside table. He looks a little swollen beneath his jaw, but otherwise, he looks like he’d merely stayed awake all night, and you’ve seen a sleepless Sebastian countless times throughout your friendship.

There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw that you’ve never noticed before; it’s the same rich brown color as his wild, unkempt hair.

(Honestly, how dare he still look handsome even when he’s ill.)

“Hello, you,” you tease him in a voice just above a whisper. “Was beginning to wonder if you were even there under all those blankets.”

“I’m cold,” he complains.

“That’s the fever talking,” you tell him. “You should probably–”

But before you can tell him that he’d be better off with less covers, the blankets shift lower and you realize he’s not wearing a pajama shirt.

(Your disobedient mind immediately raises the question of whether he’s wearing anything at all, and subsequently, if you could get away with having a look. Immediately you scold that particular thought away.)

“Er, you should… don’t overheat yourself,” you finish lamely.

He’s flushed down to his chest, fever-pale skin burning red where the blankets had been piled on top of him. You discover that he’s got a thin smattering of hair here, too; he’s grown into the body of a man much sooner than many of your classmates, you imagine.

Sebastian watches as you swallow, your own eyes raking down his body.

“You’re missing class,” he observes. “You never miss class.”

“It’ll be alright, just this once,” you say softly.

For a moment you aren’t sure if you’re talking about missing class or being in Sebastian’s bed.

Then Sebastian suddenly starts to cough and hastily reaches for his handkerchief. He sounds utterly pathetic as he coughs and groans in discomfort, rolling onto his side and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“My chest hurts,” he whimpers. “I’ve been coughing all night.”

You reach across him and gently stroke the backs of your fingers down the middle of his chest. His skin is noticeably hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

“I can put some Muggle herbs in a warm compress for your chest,” you offer. “I know they’re not as effective as a potion would be, but it always helped me feel better when I was a child.”

“Alright, I suppose that’d be nice,” he mumbles.

But when you move to stand, he quickly snags your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. “Er… where would you go? For how long?”

“Well, I’ll have to go see if Nurse Blainey has any, and if not I can go look at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” you explain. “It might take a bit of time, I’m afraid.”

“Then, just… stay,” he whines. “Keep me company? That’s better than some plain old herbs.”

You shift onto the bed, curling up on your side behind Sebastian. It’s a tight fit, and you’re dangerously close to falling off the edge, but you’re able to leave enough space between your bodies that you can make the argument that it’s friendly, and it’s fine.

“Can I rub your back?” you ask him softly. “It might help with the soreness.”

You have no idea if it will help his aching body, but you’re eager to try it nonetheless.

“Go on,” Sebastian rasps. “I… I might fall asleep.”

“You should,” you croon. “Your body’s telling you that you need to rest.”

“S’pathetic,” he grumbles. “I never get sick.”

“You had a good run,” you tease him. “But the common cold comes for us all eventually.”

He falls silent after that, his leanly muscled arms curled around a pillow while you stroke your hand up and down the length of his back. He’s so warm, and you’re a bit anxious about letting him ride out a fever as long as he has, but soon he drifts off to sleep.

You learn two things while he rests: he snores when he’s on his back, and he frowns whenever you take your hands off of him.

—

Thursday, October 8, 1891

Ominis had managed to talk you into returning to your own dormitory for the night, promising to look after Sebastian while you got some rest. When you return the following morning, you find him in even worse condition.

His sheets are bunched down to his hips, and he’s still bare from the waist up. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the bags underneath his eyes have worsened – despite how much rest he’s getting, he seems more fatigued than ever.

“What happened?!” you ask Ominis.

“He’s had a fever all night,” Ominis says grimly, looking just as worn out as Sebastian. “He hasn’t eaten a thing, and I’ve barely been able to get him to drink some water.”

“Oh, Seb,” you sigh, taking his clammy hand and resting it in your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. “You poor thing.”

“I think I’m dying,” he rasps. “This is it, right?”

“Hush now, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” you gently scold him, pressing your hand to his forehead. “You’re quite warm, but I’m not worried about your imminent demise.”

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–”

He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.”

“N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

“You’ll feel better,” you promise him. “And I swear I won’t, er… look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You argue back and forth until Sebastian, utterly depleted of his typical stubbornness, loses energy and gives in. Ominis promises to stop by J. Pippin’s to see if the shopkeeper has any draughts suitable for Sebastian’s allergies before leaving to go to class, and you help Sebastian get out of bed with his arm around your shoulders and your own around his waist.

(He’s got pants on, thank Merlin, but you have to help him into a pair of pajamas to make the walk to the Slytherin baths.)

Sebastian balks when you enter the boys’ baths, but you both quickly learn there are no enchantments in place to keep you from joining him. You offer him an arm to lean on while he takes off his pajamas and coughs – this time pointedly – for you to turn around while he sinks into the lukewarm bath you’d drawn.

“This does feel nice,” he finally says once he’s settled in the opaque, murlap-scented water.

“Good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice has gone up a bit higher than usual. “I’ll be back in a few moments with some fresh pajamas for you.”

“I’ll try not to drown while you’re gone,” he drawls, and even though he still sounds exhausted, you smile to yourself knowing that the bath is already helping him feel more like his usual self.

Hogwarts’ house elves were exceptionally fast in tidying up the boys’ dormitory while the two of you were out, so when you finally lead a clean, dry Sebastian back to his room, you’re thrilled to find freshly laundered sheets and a new pair of pillows waiting for him.

“Gods, I love magic,” he groans as he collapses into bed.

You stay all afternoon and into the evening. Ominis returns shortly before dinner with a brew from Parry Pippin himself, similar to the Pepperup Potion but with cinnamon instead of powdered bicorn horn.

(Sebastian seems to emit thin tendrils of steam straight from the top of his head after he drinks it, but he perks up all the same.)

Feenky herself brings a tray of soup and some leftover scones from breakfast once Sebastian regains his appetite. While he eats, he tells you about how he used to sit with Anne during the summers when she was particularly ill from her curse.

“At the time, I wondered if my being there was more of a help or a hindrance,” he says ruefully. “She was… hard to read, then. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me or appreciated me staying.”

You pause before shyly asking, “Am I helping? By being here?”

“Of course,” he says without thinking.

“Then I’m sure you were helping Anne, even when she was annoyed,” you tell him reassuringly. “That’s all we ever want to do really, isn’t it? Help the ones we love?”

Sebastian glances up at his tray with an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes are still glassy and he’s a bit peaky, but the cinnamon-laced, not-quite-Pepperup Potion has restored some of the usual warmth in his gaze.

“Right,” he echoes. “Help the ones we love.”

You end up staying the night in the boys’ dormitory. Only Ominis knows you’re there, as he draws the curtains around the both of you before the boys’ other roommates return from the common room. Given that Sebastian seems to be feeling better already, it’s not strictly necessary.

But it feels nice all the same.

—

Friday, October 9, 1891

Sebastian’s fever finally broke during the night.

When you wake up he’s wrapped around you from behind, one of his legs jammed between yours with his arm curled possessively around your waist.

You’re sweltering, but he’s cool to the touch.

“Sebastian,” you whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Judging by the way sunlight pours over the top of Sebastian’s bed curtains, it’s well past when you’d usually wake up during the school week. You can’t hear any other snoring boys around you, either.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “Wake up.”

He groans tiredly into your hair as his arm tightens around your waist. “No.”

“N-no?!” you sputter. “It’s morning! We… we should, er.”

You trail off when you realize you aren’t quite sure what you should be doing. Evidently you’ve missed breakfast, and you’ve likely missed the start of Potions for the third day in a row. Professor Sharp will have no choice but to give you a detention; just as well, you suppose, as you can use the time to make up what you’ve missed.

But now that the damage is done…

“How are you feeling?” you ask him softly, your eyes still fixed on the green curtains in front of your face.

“Loads better,” he says, only this time his lips are pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You gasp as he rolls more of his weight toward you, pressing you more firmly into the mattress.

“Sebastian…” you sigh.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper beneath your ear. “I’ve heard Pepperup Potion can give one strange dreams.”

“St-strange?” you whisper back. “Why was it a strange dream?”

“I suppose it wasn’t really ‘strange,’” he acquiesces. “But it was nice. Really nice.”

“Tell me about it?” you ask breathlessly.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead,” he asks, and when you nod, he slides his hand down to your hip and turns you onto your back.

Then quite suddenly he’s leaning over you, one knee still between your thighs. He rests on his elbows so his face is just centimeters from yours, and it’s the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him since the boys put out last night’s fire.

Sebastian looks so much better. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are clear and bright, and the sickly sheen of sweat he’d worn for days is entirely gone. (His hair is still a bird’s nest, but that’s to be expected.)

“We were like this,” he tells you.

“Were we just talking?” you ask him, but you’re met with only silence.

After a beat, he asks you, “Why have you been so kind to me this week?”

“You’re my best friend,” you tell him softly. “I – I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Is that all I am?” he asks. “Am I simply your friend?”

You bite your lip hesitantly and his gaze dips down to your mouth, his brown eyes nearly black in the soft morning light.

“Do you want to kiss me, Sebastian?” you ask.

Rather than answering, he surprises you by leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he lifts one of his hands to gently tip your face toward his, cradling your jaw while he deepens the kiss into one that’s hardly sweet at all.

It feels like it’s perhaps the first time in days that Sebastian has felt hunger.

You gasp his name into his mouth and then he’s the one biting your lip, just a quick graze of his teeth before he soothes your ensuing whine with another slow kiss. He shifts his weight onto his hip to rest on the mattress beside you, using that leg between yours to coax you into lying next to him. He rewards your body’s assent with a filthy kiss – the kind you’ve only read about in those Muggle romance novels you hide under your pillow, the kind where the hero kisses the girl with his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her blouse.

“Seb,” you moan.

“I didn’t know,” he confesses against your lips.

“Didn’t know what?” you whine.

“I didn’t know you loved me until last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

You’re so distracted by how red and swollen his lips look that you nearly miss him saying, “You stayed with me all week, you held me, practically healed me, and I still didn’t know.”

“Of course I love you,” you tell him.

“You love Ominis, you love Poppy,” he counters. “This – us – is different. Right?”

And the truth is, you would have done anything you’d done for Sebastian for any one of your friends. You would have helped Poppy into a warm bath and back into bed, and you would have sat at Ominis’ bedside all day and torn up pieces of scone to float on the surface of his soup.

But you would not have let them press you into their bedsheets and trace their lips along your neck, and right now Sebastian is eagerly doing both.

“Yes,” you whimper, both in answer to his question and as a plea for more.

“I love you, too,” he sighs against your jaw. “I have for ages, and I didn’t want you to see me all pathetic and poorly, but you still love me anyway.”

“I’ve loved you through worse,” you quietly remind him.

He nips at your throat for that remark; you’ve both agreed to speak of your fifth year as little as possible. Truly, the only reason you’d ever bring it up now is to remind Sebastian that you’ve long since made your choice – him, over duty and the law and perhaps even reason.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “We have all morning, we have the dormitory to ourselves. Let me take care of you now.”

He pulls your thigh across his own and tangles his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair, holding you against his warm, bare chest.

“That’s tempting,” you breathe. “B-but perhaps we should check with Nurse Blainey, to see if you’re ready to return to–”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he grinds his hips against yours. There’s no mistaking that he’s aroused, and that alone convinces you that he must be feeling well – you’re positive that he would’ve been too weak for this type of debauchery yesterday morning even if you’d gotten fully nude before him and begged.

“Trust me, I feel excellent,” he moans into your mouth. “Love, please.”

You don’t come up for air for a long while after that. By the time Ominis stops by during lunchtime to check on Sebastian, he nearly trips over your skirt, hastily tossed near the doorway.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he deadpans.

“That potion of yours worked like a charm, Ominis,” Sebastian drawls. “Cinnamon, who would have thought?”

“I don’t suppose I mentioned that Muggles find cinnamon to be an organic aphrodisiac?” Ominis says innocently. “At least, that’s what Mister Pippin said. He told me you might have some rather amorous dreams while you recover.”

“No, I think you forgot to mention that,” Sebastian replies just as innocently.

Ominis simply hums and says, “Well, now that you’ve been made aware, I’ll be off to Herbology. I’d recommend locking the door if our dear friend is going to be keeping you company this afternoon, Sebastian.”

You’re too embarrassed to say a word, but Sebastian cheerfully thanks him as he pulls the door shut and reaches for his wand on his bedside table to magically lock it behind him.

“We’ve become menaces,” you whine as he rolls on top of you once more.

Sebastian grins wickedly down at you. “Not yet we haven’t, but thank Merlin we’ve got all afternoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #my fic #man flu sebastian :(((

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girlboypersonthingy · 1 month

Text

Hazbin Boys x reader- Comfort ❤️‍🩹

This is a request from an anon- hazbin boys comforting reader with depression/mental illness. Includes Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and just a dab of Alastor. Original request here + a heart felt message from yours truly 💌

TW: depression, mental illness, sickeningly sweet fluff

Notes: gn!reader, NSFW during Angel’s part 18+ plz

Lucifer 🍎

Oh my goodnessssssss, prepare to be treated like absolute royalty.

I’m talking foot rubs, back rubs, playing with your hair

Not only will he make you food, he’ll literally try to feed you and offer you sweet praises when you do eat. Eating can be a real chore sometimes…

“Good job, my love. It’s gonna be okay…okay?”

I think Luci is pretty touchy in general, but when you’re down in the dumps, he gets extra clingy and touchy

He’ll pretty much constantly have a hand on you- holding your hand, a hand on your back, a gentle rub on your shoulder

Will unfurl his wings and drag you close to him in bed, wrapping his arms and silky feathers around you as he lulls you to sleep

Like imagine a midday depression nap all tangled up with Luci, curtains drawn so the room is nice and dark, the temp is perfect, the bed is hugging you just as good as your babe next to is. Ugh. Plz, I want this. I need this.

Will try to gently coax you out of bed and try to get you out of the house. He knows it won’t be easy for you but he thinks getting you cleaned up, dressed and out doing something fun you’ll feel a bit better. You’ll at least be distracted from your sadness for a bit.

He’s so kind and nonjudgmental too. He gets it completely. He has depression too. Even the king of hell deals with mental illness, okay? Mental illness does not discriminate

He’ll offer the best advice he can muster up, using his own experiences to help you out of your funk

All in all, he’s just an absolute sweet pea. So doting, so caring.

Angel Dust 🕸️

Also has mental illness, also gets it completely.

KING OF DISTRACTIONS

Angel is a sweet boy but I don’t think he’d be too great at offering advice…

So he does his best to distract you from your feelings, doing whatever it takes to get you to smile, even just for a second.

Will ask you what you want to do first, whatever will make you happy, he’ll go along with it.

If you insist on rotting in bed, he’ll probably respectfully pull you out of bed, tell you “this ain’t good for ya, babe” and force you to go do something fun, something relaxing, something for yourself

Sorry not sorry but he’ll def offer to cheer you up by fucking you, letting you fuck him, eating you out, sucking your dick. Go ahead, take your stress out on him, he can take it ;)

Also the king of self care.

SPA DAY SPA DAY SPA DAY

Will draw you and him a bath, rub your shoulders while you sit in the warm water together, will even wash your hair for you

Forces you to wear a face mask with him lmao

“C’mon, (Y/N)! Lemme paint ya nails! You’ll look sooooo cuuuuuute~”

Expect lots of touching and kisses with him at night, especially if you’re having trouble sleeping

Rubs your back, rubs your arms, will rub gentle circles on your butt if you’ll let him, kisses your head, kisses your cheeks, kisses your nose

ALL THE KISSESSSSSS 💋💋💋

Husk 🃏

Okay listen…this guy is obvi a great listener and he’s pretty good at giving advice. Honestly, he’s probably the best person to go to.

Husk is an old soul, he’s pretty wise, has a lot of life experience, death experience, his own experience with mental illness and even addiction.

He could just listen to you talk for hours, waiting for you to pause before he replies. He’d never interrupt. He’s so patient with you 🥹

Will keep a close eye on you and any new habits you’ve seemed to pick up. He fixes his own issues with booze but he’s the type to say “do as I say, not as I do”

Won’t let you spiral into addiction like he did…it’s not an option.

I think Husk would be a good mix of “Come here, give Husker a hug. It’s alright, hun. Let’s go take a little nap, yeah?” and “Hey, I know what’ll cheer ya up!” *proceeds to show you the coolest, craziest magic tricks*

He’s a good balance of comfort and distraction

Anything he can do to help, just say the word

Will tell you funny shit he’s seen the folks around the hotel do just to see you laugh for a moment

“One time, Angel was walking right in front of the bar at like 7 in the morning and tripped over literally nothing and face planted! I had the best seat in the house. It was hilarious.”

This is my own personal headcanon, idk why but I feel like Husk can cook really well. He’d totally make you food, even bring it to you in bed if you don’t feel like getting up

Will absolutely let you play with him like a kitten, won’t even be upset about it. Play with his ears, give him pets, let his fur be your stim toy, let his purr soothe your achy heart

Sir Pentious 🐍

Plzzzz, he’s such a simp. I love this slippery, special little guy 💚

Big on cuddles! Will cuddle you all day, all night if you want. Loves the physical contact, and loves it even more when he can feel you relax a bit against him.

Will make his eggs boys do anything for you. Whatever you want, you tell them and they’ll happily oblige.

Kinda random but I think he’d be the type to try and pull silly little pranks on ppl around the hotel just to get you to laugh. He’s such a silly goose omg

He doesn’t really understand what you’re going through so he’ll just keep asking you what he can do, how he can help, what you want, what you need from him.

He doesn’t get it but he’ll do anything for you.

When you’re feeling particularly lazy and it’s extra hard to leave your bed, he’ll literally carry you around. Just lounge in his arms, darling, he’ll take you wherever you need to go. Don’t need to go anywhere? Fine, you’re gonna come along with him to do his daily tasks. Sit in his lap and just watch as he works.

Just wants to keep you close. He can’t stand the thought of you being alone when you feel like this. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he wants you close.

Unless you insist on having some alone time or needing some space. Again, whatever you need from him, you got it.

Although, he may get a little teary eyed and pouty when he leaves you. Can’t stop thinking about you all day and probably comes and checks on you several times.

Vox 🖥️

“CANCEL MY MEETINGS, HOLD ALL MY CALLS, TELL EVERYONE IM NOT RESPONDING TO EMAILS UNTIL TOMORROW!”

Guy needs to focus on his baby right now. You are his top priority, everything else can wait. You are just too precious to put on the back burner.

Will be sure to tell Val and Velvette to leave you two alone. He doesn’t want them upsetting you any more than you already are.

This man has his assistants waiting on you hand and foot. He’s gonna stay in your bed with you, cuddled up with tons of blankets, both in your pajamas as you watch movies while ordering his staff to bring you whatever it is you desire.

Will eventually yank you out of bed bc he can’t stay still for too long but you’re coming with him. Wants to keep you company always

In public, Vox isn’t the most romantic or touchy. He’s a busy man with a huge reputation to uphold. While he would never completely ignore you and he’s no ashamed to show some PDA with you, you sort of always find yourself following in his shadow when he’s hard at work.

Once he sees how much your mental health is affecting you, he becomes much more attentive, much more protective of you.

He’ll hold your hand or keep his arm around you when out and about. Will give you a gentle kiss and a prideful smile before getting on set for a news shoot.

If you’re having a particularly hard day, everyone get out of the way! Hes taking the day off, he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone says or thinks.

You are too important to him. Without you, what good would all his accomplishments be? Without you, who would he share all this with?

He needs you to stick around 🩵

Alastor🩸

I think Alastor would be absolutely clueless but he’d try his best nonetheless!

He’d also be one to try and distract you.

Wanna go to cannibal town and visit Rosie? She’ll help cheer you up! She’s a great listener with tons of good advice to give

Will reluctantly invite you into his room and lead you to the half of it that looks like a swamp/forest. He will take off his coat and sit in the grass with you, staying silent but watching you look around in awe.

He’s got lots of cool powers and will summon or manifest little things here that he thinks will bring a smile to your face.

Summons little lightning bugs to carefully dance around your face, holds back from slaughtering a deer that’s approaching just so you can admire it from afar, will watch with a genuine smile as you lay back in the grass and relax to the sound of crickets chirping and light jazz music.

If you asked…he might give you a hug. Might.

Also sends his shadow to check up on you every so often but if you notice this, he will deny it with all his might.

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bestedoesmeow · 8 months

Text

-ˏˋTHIRST TRAPˊˎ-

pairing: toto wolff & horner!reader

inspired by the comment left on my other story!

@omgsuperstarg ty!!

instagram au

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

t: hey honey, how are you?

I've been meaning to ask you but I was so busy with work and everything

what does '' thirst trap '' mean?

y: hey love

i am okay i just woke up

read✔️ 12:23 .p.m.

t: so I need to post shirtless content?

I've been getting dm's about it and thought I should ask

I'll be home in an hour, ill get us tacos

and can we talk about the '' thirst trap''?

y: yes, we can honey

ily

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

totowolff has added to their story

seen by lewishamilton, youruser and other 567.342 people

youruser replied

: honey I don't think that's what they meant by thirst trap

: but look how beautiful you are

: now I wish I came with you to the next gp 🥲

totowolff

oh did I choose the wrong photo?

its all getting so complicated for me

I miss you too, I wish you were here to shut your dad's mouth

youruser

I thought you guys were getting along

back with the rivalry?

george and lewis should shut his mouth in the car :(

totowolff

: don't worry, we are coming back stronger 💪🏻

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

you:

okay, honey

here are some photos that I chose for your feed

real '' thirst traps''

toto:

i hate the second one

this is what people call '' thirst trap''?

I don't know but these wouldn't make me thirsty

I'll post to see if these are what people really want

totowolff

liked by mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 1,232,598 other people

double thirst trap? 📸: @ynhorner

view all comments

→youruser:

→user: y/n on a holiday with toto and his son? its just so beautiful

→user: aged like fine wine

→user: everything about this is JUST PERFECT

→user: oh how I wishhh...

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

totowolff

liked by youruser and other 567,423 other people

best teammate, roommate, housemate and lifemate

#f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #toto wolff au #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff smut #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fluff #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes amg f1 #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

a sick day visit

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: You prided yourself on not getting sick. Even as a child, you bragged about your perfect attendance. However, the day has finally come and you’re in bed with a sore throat and swollen lymph nodes. Noting your absence, the 141 decides to pay you a visit.

pairing: 141 x pharmacist!Reader

if you want to read some other interactions with our lovely pharmacist -> pharmacist!reader tag

warnings: swearing, medical terminology/descriptions of illness

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Healthcare professionals never get sick. They just don't. That's why when you woke up with a sore throat, swollen and painful lymph nodes, and a headache, you silently cursed everything in the universe. The last few days you were more tired than usual but nothing out of the ordinary. You were supposed to report to the pharmacy at 07:00 hours but you knew you weren't going to make it there. You groggily grabbed your phone and made a few phone calls. Eventually, after an hour, you were able to get one of your civilian pharmacist colleagues to fill in for you. "Thanks, Dr. Stewart, I already notified security and the techs that you'll be coming in today," you hoarsely croaked out and hung up the phone.

Once everything was in order, you put a plain shirt and pants on and bundled yourself in a blanket. You knew that you should go visit the doctor to find out what was wrong. You brushed your teeth to have a semblance of normalcy but to put it politely, you looked like hell. Before you left, you made sure to find a medical mask, just in case whatever you had was contagious. You slipped on some shoes and exited your quarters to the medical wing.

As you walked, you ignored the bewildered looks of the soldiers as they passed. Some gave you a quick, "Good morning, Captain," and you weakly gave them a wave. Eventually, you could see Captain Price emerge from an adjoining hallway and he locked eyes with you. "Captain L/N, heard you were missing from the pharmacy today," he said and you moved to the side of the hallway to allow others to walk. "Hi John, just feeling under the weather, should be back tomorrow," you said softly. You could see the pity in his eyes as you used your elbow to cough. "Just let me know if you need anything, I'll personally have the 141 deliver anything," he said kindly and allowed you to continue to the doctor.

Despite being a pharmacist, you hated going to the doctor. Something about the sterility of the environment made you uneasy. "Ah Captain, funny seeing you here," the doctor commented as she entered. You smiled, she was one of your better friends in this department and you relaxed upon seeing her. "Definitely don't want to under these circumstances," you replied and she motioned for you to take off your mask so she could begin examining you. As soon as you opened your mouth, you could tell she knew what was wrong with you.

"What is it?" you asked and she dialed a number on the medical wing's phone. "Oh love, I think you have mononucleosis. I'm going to run some blood work and have a test done but it's pretty certain," she spoke and you were surprised. "Isn't that only spread through direct contact or saliva?" you asked. It was a silly question as mononucleosis was also known as the kissing disease but you wanted extra confirmation. "It can be or it can be spread by sharing utensils or drinks," she said and you internally facepalmed. You silently regretted going out for drinks with your techs and trying everyone's drinks. "It usually takes about 1-2 months to show symptoms," she continued, "there is no treatment, only rest, liquids, and paracetamol."

After two hours of waiting for your results with the phlebotomist, your doctor's suspicions were confirmed. "Sorry Captain," the phlebotomist said and sent you back to your room with a bottle of paracetamol and some Liquid IV. As you changed into pajamas, you made sure to notify your staff of your diagnosis and promised you'd be back at work as soon as your fever broke. Having nothing else to do, you settled back into bed and grabbed a book for the long days of recovery ahead.

You were almost finished with your book when you heard a knock on your door. "Coming," you called and put an Army sweatshirt on before opening it. At the door were four men who you immediately recognized as the 141. You almost laughed when you saw them all wearing matching balaclavas with a skeleton painted on them. Better safe than sorry, I guess. "What are you guys doing here?" you asked as you held the door partially open. "Heard our favorite pharmacist was sick so we brought you some things," Gaz smiled at you and you noticed a small bag of goodies in Soap's hands. "What you got anyways?" Soap asked as he handed you the bag. "Don't laugh but I have mono," you said and everyone took a step back. "I promise I'm not contagious but no kissing and sharing drinks for me for a little while," you joked and you could see everyone take a deep breath. You invited them inside your room to continue the conversation.

As they walked into your room they admired the decor. Unlike some other officers, the base was your permanent housing arrangement. You decided to make it as much of a home as possible. This included bringing in carpets for the cold tile floors, a bookshelf filled with pharmacy textbooks and novels in various languages, and other little trinkets. You even had a few pictures of your favorite people including your proud parents. You sat on the bed and the men cozied themselves on the carpet and your small loveseat. You allowed everyone a moment to settle as you could see them eye your decor. Everyone seemed to find something that peaked their interest. Simon studied your posters of famous art pieces, Gaz tried to figure out the locations of the postcards from your uni pharmacy friends, and Soap was intensely looking at the colorful pillows that adorned your bed. "Quite a setup you have here," Price commented as he thumbed through your Russian copy of Wuthering Heights. "Might as well make this place a home," you smiled and pulled a blanket around yourself.

"Do you know how you got it?" Ghost spoke up suddenly. "Well it might have been my fault but it was probably when I took my techs to a pub off-base," you sheepishly answered. "It was stupid but we all thought it would be a great idea to share drinks," you continued. "I thought it was the kissing disease," Gaz commented as you finished your story. You laughed lightly before responding. "That's one of the easiest ways to get it but anything with saliva contact spreads it," you began, "Plus there's no significant other I would have to worry about, Sergeant" Suspiciously, they all smiled and you couldn't understand why they were so invested in your love life.

"Anyways how have you been?" you asked and Price was the first one to speak up. "Back again for a while but we still miss your patient care in the pharmacy," he replied and everyone nodded their heads in response. "Your friend doesn't know what they're doin," Soap pitched in, "he just gives us our prescriptions without even a hello." Your smile faltered slightly, you were upset to hear this is how he treated your patients. "I'll be back soon, I promise," you responded. After a lull of silence, you yawned as today's events had tired you out. "You should open the bag," Ghost mentioned and you suddenly remembered the gift they put together.

You grabbed the small brown bag that sat next to you and poured its contents out on your duvet. Inside, they had put some snacks from the vending machine, bags of tea, and a crudely drawn picture of what looked like the members of the 141. "Oh thank you all," you gasped and went to pick up the drawing. "Why this though?" you asked and saw four figures carrying a comically sized pill bottle to what looked like you with a mask and blanket. "What I thought it was funny," Soap said defensively and you smiled. "I'll be sure to frame this one," you said before setting it back down. Despite being cold-hearted soldiers, they did some nice things sometimes. Eventually after some more light conversation, they could tell you needed some rest and saw themselves out. "Thanks again for stopping by," you called as they exited. "Anytime," Price said before he closed your room's door.

As they walked down the hall, you could hear their conversation through the thin wall. "You see that picture of them from uni?" you heard Gaz ask. "Ye the one next to the bookshelf, right?" Soap responded. "Didn't know that wearing a bathing suit with a pharmacy coat was part of the uniform," you heard Gaz say and your eyes shot to the aforementioned photo. You stood there, two other friends from pharmacy school, on the beaches of Cornwall only wearing a bathing suit and your white coat. Next time you invite someone over, you'll be sure to hide that photo.

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apute11as · 5 months

Text

Everything happens for a reason part 3 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note- hey guys here’s part 3! Hope you are enjoying the series! Please leave a comment with any feedback (positive or otherwise) it’s always helpful 🤍🤍

Warnings⚠️ swearing (that’s about it I think) it’s mostly angst

————

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/735082085825576960/everything-happens-for-a-reason-part-2-alexia

—————

The next day rolled around fairly quickly as you and Alessia had made a brief exit, claiming travel sickness to be the cause of your tearful exit from the room. As you woke up the next day you were met with the sound of a blaring alarm that read 6:30am.

Groaning you began to trudge out of bed, as Alessia did the same from the other bed.

“What are you doing?” Rung Alessia’s sleepy voice.

“Getting ready for training?” you said, puzzled.

“Oh are you sure you want to play, do you feel well?” questioned the striker

“yeah surprisingly I feel alright this morning” you smiled but you were soon cut off by a harsh ringing of your phone and were met with Alexia’s face plastered across your screen. You hesitated at first but then clicked the green button.

“Bon dia mi amor, I was starting to this you weren’t awake” came the a husky, Catalonian voice.

“Hey baby yeah I’m up sorry just misplaced my phone.” you assured her.

“How is camp are you feeling better now?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe you should just share your concerns with your wife, knowing that she could potentially offer clarity. However you ultimately decided against it as you had your mind set on attending the World Cup and playing as much as possible. Your mind wandered as you began working it out in your head, realising that by the end of the tournament, you’d be almost 3 months pregnant which would likely carry risks when you played.

“Princesa? Are you still there?” your wife questioned with worry.

“Lo siento Ale I’m here, I’m just so tired sorry my mind isn’t focusing.” you offered

“I understand bebita, I’ll call you back later vale?” the Spaniard inquired.

“Sí of course I’ll call you after training, te quiero mucho Alexia.” you voiced

“I love you too amor.” she replied blowing a kiss at the screen, which you returned before ending the call.

“You ok?” Asked Alessia with a pitiful smile.

“Yeah I’m good. Thank you Less I really mean it.” you replied

“always and we’ll get the test later to calm your mind down” she smiled

———

The morning had been relatively smooth, with minimal nausea and training with the girls had even distracted you completely for a number of hours- something that you welcomed with open arms. During the rondo is when it all started to take a turn for the worse. You felt yourself growing more easily tired than usual, struggling to catch your breath after a run down the wing, the sick feeling started to form.

You’d been stood in a small huddle half way through the drill when you felt the bile begin to rise in your throat and before you knew it you were making a run to the changing rooms and throwing up in the nearest bin. Alessia and Mary were close behind and you felt a hand rubbing up your back as you dry heaved into the bin.

“come on y/n we’re going to get the medicine” said Alessia

“what medicine?” you questioned, whilst attempting to regain your composure.

“You know what we talked about getting at lunch? To cure your illness” she said through gritted teeth as your mind finally caught up.

“Ohh ok yes sorry” you replied, eyes darting between her and Mary.

“What’s up with you?” Asked Mary, concerned.

“Just the flu we think” you answered, stoically.

“Should you be playing??” She urged

“Probably not but I didn’t want to worry anyone” you lied about your condition

“Y/N your health should come first always!” Mary insisted.

“Sorry Mar it will next time I promise” you offered, which seemed to be enough for you as she allowed you and Alessia to leave, whilst she told the team of your suspected flu- an answer they gave little question to.

———

The journey to the shop was brief. You slipped in with hoods up and made sure to use self checkout to minimise the risk of being spotted because what a scandal that would cause.

Once you returned to your shared room, the two of you made your way to the bathroom, carrying three different brands of pregnancy test in your bag.

“Do you want to do them all at once?” Alessia inquired.

“I mean I doubt I have the pee control to do it any other way” you replied, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

You sat down on the toilet and held the tests below you as Alessia turned to face the door. Once you’d taken them, you turned all three face down on the counter and the two of you sat on the stone floor of the bathroom with a 5 minute timer on Alessia’s phone. Your mind wandered to your wife in Spain as the guilt crept in about keeping this potentially life changing moment from her.

Before you could get too absorbed in your thoughts, the timer sounded signifying it was time to check the tests.

“you’ve got this.” Reassured the blonde with a small smile.

“3, 2, 1” you rehearsed before flipping the text.

First one: positive

Second one: positive

Third one: positive

“Oh shit” Alessia voiced.

“Oh shit indeed.”

“What are you gonna do? Shall I get your phone I can leave whilst you call alexia?” Said the striker.

“No. She can’t know.” You responded emotionlessly.

“What why not?” Alessia questioned, shock evident in her tone.

“She’ll stop me from playing Alessia. I have to play! By the time it’s noticeable the World Cup will be done and I’ll tell her then to cheer her up if neither of us win it or to add fuel to the celebration if one of us does. Oh my god what if she’s not happy?” your breathing picks up rapidly “she wanted the baby before but what if she’s changed her mind Alessia?” Your breathing was becoming frantic.

“Calm down y/n/n breathe just breathe” Alessia said putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t Alessia! What if she leaves me? I can’t raise a baby on my own!” You began to hyperventilate, reaching a state of full blown panic.

“Y/n you need to breathe ok, we can sort all that after, you don’t need to tell alexia today just calm down, breathe, think of the baby ok, breathe for the baby!” Alessia urged.

“Ok ok” you said steadying your breath, Alessia’s grip on your shoulders grounding you.

“You feeling calmer now?” questioned the blonde.

“Yes thank you Alessia it really means a lot” you smiled, hugging the younger girl.

——

The first game of the tournament came around fast. With it being Haiti, you weren’t too concerned as they hadn’t been an especially tough team in the past. You still hadn’t told Alexia about the pregnancy. Although Alessia had managed to convince you to see a doctor, luckily she wasn’t a football fan so had no idea who the two of you were, and much to your amusement she confused you as a couple which sent the two of you into fits of giggles, before correcting her. You and Alexia still kept in contact, she’d noticed something off with you but each time she’d brought it up, you shut her down with and blamed it on fatigue. She wasn’t stupid and didn’t buy a word of it but she also knew you’d tell her in your own time, whatever it was so she didn’t push.

When sarina announced you to be in the starting eleven you sighed heavily, realising that the game would be tougher than anticipated. What’s more, you were playing centre back. Normally, you played CDM or on occasion CM but with Leah out and Millie having picked up a light injury in training, England were short on reliable centre backs.

As the whistle sounded to signify the start of the match, you drew a sharp breath in anticipation of the difficulty these next 90 minutes would prevail.

—

Half time came around eventually. After a gruelling first half, you welcomed the break. You were leading 1-0 only thanks to a penalty from Georgia, which wasn’t overly comforting as Haiti were putting up a fair fight. You were forced to make some risky tackles, many of which ended up with you on the floor, body twisted at awkward angles. This did nothing to help Alessia’s growing anxiety for you. She’d become protective over you as she felt partially responsible, being the only one who knew about the pregnancy still. Every time you’d gone down with a challenge, she’d been by your side, checking you over (despite being practically on opposite ends of the pitch).

What you didn’t know was that Alexia was sat in a hotel room, watching every interaction and was beginning to grow suspicious of your new found closeness to the blonde striker. Lingering touches which to you and Alessia were nothing more than her checking on you and the baby, to Alexia were symbols of a growing affection between the two of you. Her jaw remained clenched at every interaction.

——

The game ended 1-0. A tight win but the three points were yours nonetheless. Your body ached all over. As you headed for the coach in a slumped motion due to the fatigue, you were stopped with a warm hand on your shoulder, one that belonged to Lucy Bronze.

“Hey Luce are you ok?” you sighed out.

“I’m alright Mrs putellas but are you?” She asked with concern. You cringed at the nickname she gave you before responding.

“Tough match that’s all, why do you ask?” you inquired with a furrowed brow.

“Alexia told me you weren’t yourself lately, asked me to check up on you. Oh and also I was quite concerned to hear that you didn’t tell her about your quite awful round of the flu the other week?” she questioned

“Oh erm must of slipped my mind?” You offered weakly.

“Yeah I’m sure, what’s really up Y/N?” Questioned the brunette.

“I-I can’t tell you” you stuttered, eyes damp with tears that threatened to fall at any moment.

“Why not, you know you can trust me with anything?” she said, face contorted with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

“I know Lucy and I love you for it but it’s personal I’m sorry.” you half smiled at her

“Yeah yeah I get that, you don’t have to tell me but you should really tell your wife.” She rebounded.

“No she can’t know!” You said on reflex, as though you were talking about it to Alessia.

“Know what? Y/N I’m worried now what’s going on?” Lucy pushed further.

“Y/N” called Alessia, jogging towards the two of you. “Are you coming?” She gestured to the bus.

“Yeah of course.” You smiled at the striker. Lucy however, didn’t miss the relaxation of your body at Alessia’s presence. Making a mental note to bring this up when Alexia called again.

——

Alexia’s POV

Y/N has been off with me for weeks. Ever since that day she left for the World Cup, she’s been so distant. At first I thought it was to do with us being rivals at the World Cup but now I fear there’s something more.

After watching her game against Haiti, I noticed her closeness with Russo, England’s young striker. My stomach twisted in discomfort as I watched them interact, Y/N responding to her touch in the way she’d normally only do for me. Jealousy rippled through me, could it be? Is this why she’s been off with me? Was my wife really cheating on me with her teammate?

Back to neural POV

Frantically, Alexia called Lucy for the second time this week. After a few rings she picked up.

“Hola Capi” sounded the English- twinged Spanish of Lucy bronze.

“Hola Lucia, well done on the game”

“Gracias Alexia? Not to be rude but why are you calling me?” She questioned

“Has Y/N been acting weird at all?” She asked simply

“Funny you say that she was being odd earlier. She seemed sad so I asked her what was up and I got minimal response but then I got her to crack a little. She told me there was something but she couldn’t tell me. Then Alessia came along and grabbed her to go to the bus. They spent the whole journey whispering about something so I’m not sure what to take from it?” Offered Lucy

“That little bitch” snapped alexia

“Woah what now?” Questioned Lucy at the harsh words Alexia had just produced

“I think she’s cheating on me Luce” replied alexia, both anger and sadness laced her voice.

“Oh wow Ale that’s a huge conculsion to jump to.” Stated the older woman.

“Well did you not see how much they touched eachother in that game. I was observing them the whole time Alessia was practically glued to her at every opportunity.” Snarled alexia.

“Now that you say it they’ve been spending a lot of time together but I wouldn’t make any rash decisions on the matter Alexia.” Offered Lucy.

“Thanks Lucy I’m gonna call her now.” Alexia stated harshly

——

After the team bus made its way back to the hotel in Sydney, you and Alessia wandered up to your rooms (next door to eachother as requested). You’d barely been back and hour before you received a FaceTime from your wife. Weird, you’d thought. It was a couple of hours earlier than you’d discussed but you brushed it off and answered anyways.

“Hola mi amor” you spoke down the phone.

“Fuck you” came your wife’s angry tone

“W-what? Mi Vida are you ok?” You asked with concern in your voice

“You’re cheating on me are you, with Russo?” She snarled

“WHAT?! No Alexia where did you get that from?” you were shocked at this revelation

“I saw the two of you in that game, every time you were tackled she was right beside you. She’s up front you’re a defender for fucks sake you’re miles away from each other!” She practically yelled down the phone.

“Alexia no it’s not like that at all, she’s just been looking out for me.” You reassured the Spaniard.

“Looking out for you? I know we’re not seeing eachother for a while but i didn’t realise you were pathetic enough to need another woman to satisfy you! It’s been 3 fucking weeks Y/N!” She roared

“You don’t understand Alexia I needed someone to talk to, to support me in person.” you were in tears now.

“SUPPORT YOU? What the fuck with? I call you everyday to check in and you won’t tell me anything so you’re whoring yourself out to the next person you can find!” She pushed further

“No Alexia! It’s not like that not at all please!” You begged

“Then what is it huh? What could you possibly need support with that I can’t give you right now?!” She boomed

“Alexia, I’m- I’m pregnant! The IVF worked its your baby, sorry you had to find out like this.” you burst into tears.

Alexia sat there in shock. You were pregnant, with her baby, how could she have been so stupid!

—————

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt #fcb femeni #espwnt x reader #fcb femeni x reader #alessia russo #alexia putellas x reader #lionesses #alessia russo x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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