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luveline · 2 years

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��𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue lunch break visits, rocky road ice cream, a too-big bouquet, and the rainbow connection.

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You're dozing against the back wall in the kitchen when Benny clears his throat. The grease back here while he's cooking tends to get pretty thick and you're tired to begin with. It's a recipe for nodding off.

Flinching into a proper standing position, you give your boss an apologetic smile. "What?" you ask, blinking hard.

"Your boy's here."

"My boy?"

"Curly hair, tattoos. Looks like he hasn't showered this week. Or any week, actually." Benny laughs, a chesty, self-satisfied chuckle.

You rush to his side, careful of the spitting hot grill, and follow his gaze out of the kitchen window. Eddie's about two seconds away from opening the glass door, clad in his smart work uniform.

"He's not my boy," you say.

Benny scrapes his spatula across the grill's bubbling surface and flips a burger. "If he's the reason you're tired today, you can consider him banned. He's ruining my best waitress."

"I'm your only waitress." The door opens. Eddie stops in the doorway and casts his gaze around the room. You hide behind the wall and fuss with your hair. "And no, he's not keeping me up. It's Junie." Isn't it always Junie? She's your baby and you adore her, but that doesn't mean she's getting any easier to handle. The terrible twos are persevering with a ferocity you can't quite withstand, or at the very least sleep through.

"He eating?" Benny asks.

"I'll go find out."

You wipe the oil from your nose and grimace as you walk out into the actual seating area of the diner. It's empty but for one person and Eddie, who grins when he sees you.

"Hey, sweet thing."

You try not to show how much you like being called 'sweet thing'. Your face must betray you somehow because Eddie's grin turns smug and he approaches until he's basically stepping on your toes.

"How's it hanging?"

You snort. "Benny asked if you're eating."

"What's today's special?"

"Cheeseburger."

He fixes your shirt collar. You can feel the warmth of his fingers and the cooler metal of a ring grace your throat. "Yeah, I'm eating."

You report back to Benny with his order and find the cook's already added two burgers to the grill. He points his spatula at the now grilled and constructed burger for Darren. If you hadn't taken it you'd still know who's it was; Benny's regulars are loyal to a fault. The same old guys come in here day in and day out, and they all want the same thing.

Quarter pounders.

You take it, twist around a childish Eddie trying to trip you up and deliver it to Darren, a frowny-faced farm-hand that Benny swears is a nice guy deep down. You've yet to dig far enough.

Eddie tries to trip you up again when you come back. You glare at him, stepping on his toes gently – more a threat than a real show of aggression – and disappear again through the kitchen door.

"So." Benny throws down a basket of fries before moving to the chopping board with a fresh tomato in hand. "He's your boyfriend?"

"Do we have to do this?" you ask, joining him at the chopping board. You try to snag a slice of tomato and are quickly tutted away.

"Is he?"

"No," you say, trying again for some tomato.

"Kid, if you don't wait."

You pout and set back on your heels.

The burgers sizzle. Benny throws a slice of cheese over Eddie's and lets it melt. Quicker than you can believe, Benny constructs two burgers and fills a red plastic basket with fries.

He offers them to you. "Lunch break."

Free food. You smile at him sheepishly and try to take them. He pulls his arms back.

"Wha-"

"If he's your boyfriend, you better tell me now."

"Benny, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an adult. Already got knocked up once."

"And where is he now?"

Chastised, you mumble, "He's not my boyfriend," and Benny finally hands over the food. He looks like he might try to ruffle your hair if you stick around, so you knock open the kitchen door with your hip and make a speedy exit.

"What's with the face?" Eddie asks as you sit, reaching for the hot plate balancing across your forearm.

"I think Benny just tried to give me a dad talk."

He laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Really? What did he say?"

You shake your head. That's not a bag of worms you're interested in delving into right now. Your brains too fried, and the food smells great. Your stomach aches with hunger.

"You want a coke?" you ask.

Eddie stands up. "I'll get them. Sit down, okay?"

You sit down and shove a greedy handful of fries into your mouth, turning in your seat to watch Eddie talk.

He leans over the metal ledge of the kitchen window. It's quiet enough to hear him laugh, hear him say, "No, sir," in a tone that borders sarcastic.

He wields a five dollar bill at Benny, who shoots him down.

"Put it in the Junie jar," Benny says.

"Junie jar?" Eddie questions, though he's smiling.

Your eyebrows furrow at the expression. You've never heard it either.

"I don't bother pretending she spends it on anything else."

"You got that right."

You flush with heat all the way to to the tips of your ears and turn back to the table before Eddie can catch you watching.

He throws himself into his seat like he's collapsed. The twin cokes in his hands upheave and then splash back into themselves, an impressive and ridiculous show of skill that makes you gasp.

"For you." He shoves a glass down next to you. The ice cubes clink.

"Thank you," you say, and don't waste any time digging into your food.

He squints at your eager eating, though he waits until you've taken the worlds biggest bite of your burger before he asks, "Hungry?"

You swallow before you mean to and have to take a big sip of your drink to avoid choking to death. "I didn't eat breakfast."

"How come?"

You can't take his concern. Your eyes drop this hand where it picks through fries, no rings in sight. He’d told you once he can’t wear them at work, because he gets really warm and the rings are costume jewellery. His hands look bare without them, but they’re very nice hands. You follow the stark line of a bone down from his knuckles and focus in on his simple wrist watch as you explain.

"It took me an hour to get her to finish a slice of toast this morning. I usually wouldn’t make her finish, but she's not eating well."

You don't have to say who. Eddie tips his head back to eat a handful of fries like a courtesan eating grapes, all grandness.

"Teething?"

"She has all her teeth already," you say. A laugh bubbles up, delighted at his suggestion.

"What do you think it is?"

You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin and shrug. Eddie sees straight through your forced nonchalance.

"No, seriously. What do you think?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's gonna come down with the flu. She didn't sleep all night either, and…" You rub your tired eyes with the backs of your hands. "I don't know. I hope she's feeling better at pick up, but I doubt it."

"How are you feeling?" He says 'you' softly, almost crooning.

"Tired, Eds."

"I can see that."

The door opens and a breeze whips your ankles. You hide them further under the table and cringe when you kick Eddie straight in the foot. He only raises his eyebrow at you and kicks you back. "What's your problem?" he mumbles under his breath, smiling.

When the burgers are gone and there's only a couple of cold fries left, you and Eddie fall into conversation about tonight. He's finally playing a gig after months without one, and you're riddled with guilt.

"I wish I could come," you tell him, feeling gutted that you won't see him in action.

You wonder what he looks like on stage. Sometimes it's hard to coalesce the Eddie you know and the other Eddie, rocker Eddie. He's so sweet. The image of him on stage and sweating, rocking out, you can't summon it.

You clear your throat. "I'm sorry we can't."

Eddie shakes his head quickly, fingers playing with the chain around his left wrist. "Don't worry about it. Junebugs's gotta sleep. You gotta sleep."

You pick at your nails, shame-faced. If you were a good friend you'd go and see him perform, but you're a good mom so you can't. Maybe you could get a sitter… only you don't trust anybody to look after her. Not the way you would. And people can be evil.

Maybe I could take her to the Hideout, you think tentatively.

You couldn't. It's too loud, it's too rowdy. You're not sure they'd even let you in with a baby.

"Sorry," you say again, dropping your cheek into your palm.

Eddie doesn't smile. He turns his wrist, the back of his hand to the table and his palm open between you.

"Don't be sorry," he says. He watches your face and slowly, slowly, mischief creeps into his expression. "How about I give you a private show?"

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You and June've never heard me play. I could bring an amp. June can play drums. You'll sing."

His allocation shocks you out of your thoughts. "Why can't you sing?"

"What will you do, then? If I sing?"

You flounder.

He lifts his coke to his lips and smirks at your silence. "Exactly."

"Eddie, I can't sing."

He waves his hand at you rather than answer.

"I won't sing."

"Oh, you won't?" he asks, tone enough to make you cross your legs under the table. He rolls his eyes.

"No. Let Junie do it. She's always singing."

"And you'll-? What?"

You shrug. He imitates you, over-exaggerated enough to make you gasp a laugh.

“Is that supposed to be me?"

He ignores your question in favour of his own. "You'll do nothing. Typical."

"You're getting too big for your boots, Munson," you warn, sliding his plate on top of yours.

He stacks your empty glasses. The two of you stand and linger. He should go back to work. You should too.

"I'll come over tomorrow?" he asks finally.

"Okay." You look over him in his clean clothes and neater than usual hair and can't help smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say quietly, opening your arms just slightly.

Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms quickly around your shoulders, careful of the plates in your hand. He rubs them once, a good, grounding pressure across the breadth of your back. Your nose presses against his neck. He smells like aftershave and cigarette smoke and skin.

Before you know it he's pulling away, the end to an amicable embrace between friends. Almost disappointing, not quite what you want anymore, but a relief and a comfort all the same.

He chucks your chin. "Tell Junie I miss her."

"I will."

"Okay." He turns to walk away. "Bye, sweetheart," he shoots over his shoulder.

"Bye!" you call.

The door shudders in his wake. You stand there watching until Benny clears his throat pointedly and asks you to come and make some more coffee.

You rush through the rest of the day. You finish earlier than you should because Benny's in a gracious mood, thrusting your tip jar into your arms with a command to get some sleep. You promise you'll try your best and head out for the daycare.

Junie's asleep in a bean bag by the baby gate when you get there. You stop dead in your tracks. She has her shoes and coat on already, her backpack in her lap. You look up at the childcare worker in charge today, a nice lady called Deborah, quizzically.

"She's been like that for an hour. I'm sorry we couldn't keep her awake."

You pout at Junie. "Why she got her coat on?"

"She insisted. Screamed bloody murder. Think she was excited to see you," she says, smiling softly.

You smile in return. "Thank you, Deborah. Have a nice weekend.”

Deborah nods and disappears back into the play room. You open the baby gate with likely less dexterity than you should have as a mom and drop to your knees in front of the beanbag, careful not to make too much noise. You're wondering if you can carry her to the car without waking her up when her foot moves, then her arms. They fall to her side as her eyes open.

"Hey, baby," you say, feeling weirdly emotional. She looks so lovely and pretty, and if she's sick that's gonna pluck your heart strings (and cause a boat load of problems).

"Mommy," she mumbles, eyes bleary.

"That's me." You reach out to squeeze her little thigh. "My poor girl, what's the matter? Does your tummy hurt?" you ask carefully.

She blinks.

"Why're you sitting here all by yourself? You didn't want to play with Adrien? Or Lucy?"

When she doesn't reply you take her backpack and thread your hand through the strap, offering your open arms to her. She can barely sit up, her movements slow and sluggish.

"Here," you murmur, sliding your hands under her armpits and pulling her into your chest.

She finally smiles, hands bunched up at the collar of your shirt. You leave some room to look at her and she looks at you. You're surprised she's not whining or crying.

"Hey," you say again, amazed at her droopy smile. "You look like you've had a good day."

Her head drops forward. You think she's nodding, though that might be wishful thinking. You don't even know if toddlers can nod.

Of course they can nod, you think to yourself scathingly. I mean… can they?

And Junie isn't like most toddlers. She hasn't really done anything by the book. She meets milestones when she wants to, sometimes early, sometimes really, really late.

You pat her back, her nylon coat crinkly under your hand. "Ready to go home?"

You stand up with her clutched to your chest. Usually you'd have her say goodbye to Deborah or the other daycare workers but Junie doesn't look like she knows her own name right now. You frown at her and encourage her forehead against your chin, trying to gauge if she's a little warmer than usual.

"I missed you," you tell her honestly. You miss her every single day. "I want to know everything you did today. Do you remember what you did?"

Junie pushes against your chest with her hand as you walk out of the daycare centre and into the parking lot.

"Did you do… colouring? Or… building blocks? Did you sing?" you ask, grinning.

You cross the road, and when you look back she's staring at you, straight into your eyes.

"Hi," you say with a laugh.

Her hands rise to your face, fingers thankfully clean and warm against your wind-bitten cheeks. You slow, gazing down at her expectantly. She raises her chin as high as she can and smiles big.

"You want a kiss. I can tell," you croon smugly.

She kisses you. It's a little drooly as baby kisses always are, but it's the best thing that's happened to you all day. It's always so surprising when she initiates affection. That she loves you just as much as you love her.

You steal another kiss.

"Guess what?" you ask, reaching a hand to stroke a little baby hair back.

She says a word that isn't real. It sounds like 'mod'.

"It's payday today, which means…" You beam at her. "Ice cream!"

That grabs her attention.

Eddie can't believe it. "You had what without me?" he asks over the phone.

Junie herds your knees, arms around your legs and face turned to the TV. You stand slumped against the wall where your phone is plugged, curling the landline's coiled cord around your finger so Junie can't grab it.

"Ice cream," you supply helpfully.

His voice isn't easy to understand. The Hideout is a very loud place. Eddie's practically shouting down the line. "I can't believe it."

"It couldn't be helped. She needed to be tempted."

"Tempted! Has she eaten anything else?"

You look down at the girl in question and reach down to rub her back. "Oh yeah. She ate like, an entire bag of lays, one of the big ones. She still smells like honey barbecue."

"Nothing else?"

You sigh, that creeping, ringing thought edging in. You're a bad mom.

"I made her cereal, and celery sticks and sandwiches and little cut up peaches and- and she won't touch any of it," you say, like you're promising. Your tone begs to be believed.

There's a loud racket. Eddie shouts, "What did you say? I can't hear you!"

You repeat yourself. You miss the start of what he's saying, but you catch, "-not your fault! She's probably just having a moment. You remember when she kept throwing her bottle? She doesn't do that anymore."

You nod. "Yeah, maybe it's like that. She's figuring she has choices." Not the best timing for your kid to decide she's gonna get picky.

"Exactly! Or maybe she is sick. Does she look sick?"

You look back down at Junie and feel across her smooth forehead for the twentieth time today. "She doesn't feel warm."

"Good. I'm sure she-" You miss the rest.

"I can't hear you," you say with a small laugh. "I can hear the drum kit though. Are you going on soon?"

"I said, 'I'm sure she's fine.' And yeah, couple of minutes."

"Okay. Um. I'll let you go, then."

"Okay." A small gap where you think he's hung up, but then, "Can I talk to her?"

You bite back a smile. "Sure."

You kneel down. Junie looks a short fall from suspicion, though her arms quickly reach out for a hug.

"June, d'you wanna talk to Eddie?"

"Eddie?" she asks, turning to the door.

You catch her hand before she can walk away. "No, babe, on the phone."

You sit down flat with your legs crossed and encourage her to do the same. She doesn't not want to be encouraged, eyes still trained on the door.

"Baby," you say, though you're bringing the phone to your mouth as you do. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Okay, I'm gonna pass her the phone and you're gonna have to talk straight away, because she doesn't know how it works. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright. Bring on the junebug."

You press the phone to Junie's ear. She looks startled and then annoyed, shoulder hiking and head moving in like she might push it away. You can see the moment she realises Eddie is on the other side, her lips part and her eyes widen in wonder.

She listens for a while, flabbergasted. You think you might be able to hear his voice. Not what he's saying, but his bubbly baby tone.

"Eddie," she says suddenly. She looks at you, says a bunch of nonsense words and babbling punctuated by Eddie Eddie Eddie.

"Are you listening to him?" you ask, excited at her recognition.

She grabs the phone out of your hand and stares at it. You try to wrangle it back and put it back to her ear. She is not happy.

Hardly news that your toddler's mood may swing, you shove the phone between your head and your shoulder and wrap her up in your arms with a placating shush. She starts to cry regardless. You think they might be crocodile tears.

"Eddie?"

"Sweetheart, I gotta go, okay? I'm sorry if I upset June–"

"You didn't, you didn't, she–"

"– I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"– misses you, I think–"

"See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck!" you say. The line's already dead. The dial tone makes your ear prickle.

You feel upset for a second. It's a mess of feelings. You're too tired to deal with any of them.

"Eddie?" Junie asks, hands pulling at the hem of her nightie.

"Just mommy," you say with a smile. The longer she looks at you the easier it gets. "You wanna go to bed and cuddle?"

She laughs and runs away from you.

"I'll take that as a no."

Eddie knocks the door and doesn't get an answer.

He pauses, a bouquet behind his back and his acoustic guitar heavy around his neck, a grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. It's a very heavy grocery bag. He'd figured he has a lot of apologising to do this afternoon.

It seems like there's no one home to apologise to.

"Girls? It's me."

Still no answer.

"Eddie," he adds, like a loser.

He thinks he can hear small footsteps.

"Eddie!"

He laughs to himself. "Junebug? Where's mommy?"

"Hello?" you call finally.

"Hey, can you let me in?"

He keeps the flowers hidden firmly behind his back as you open the door. He hears the deadbolt, the chain slide free and then the regular old lock unlocking, and you pull the door open and suddenly he can't breathe. You look that pretty.

"Eddie!" Junie shouts, to his pleasure.

You grin brilliantly as he steps over the threshold.

Junie's arms are quickly around his legs. She's in a sweet blue dress and frilly socks looking almost as pretty as her mom does, hair neat and tidy, face pristine.

You're nearly matching her. You've a soft white shirt on, tucked into a simple blue skirt and a cardigan to match.

You barely stop to look at him, flitting back to the kitchen where you’ve brown paper bags upended, the fridge and freezer doors both wide open. "Sorry, I'm just putting the groceries away. How did the gig go? Did you rock the house?" You giggle to yourself.

Eddie wants to scream, you’re that endearing. “It went great. Awesome. Not sure I rocked the house, but it was metal.”

"Amazing! I- I'm sorry I didn't hear you, I was in my own head," you say as you go, stepping over toys and frozen peas and Junie's Muppet Babies backpack like a natural. He notices your small white socks and feels himself slipping that little bit further into a terrifying feeling.

He doesn't have time to tell you it's okay, or that he wishes you’d been at the gig, or to watch your step. Junies's babbling for his attention and he'd rather die than not give it to her, moving the grocery bag he has hanging from his hand over her head and tossing it toward the couch, where it lands and spills.

"Okay, June, I'm gonna pick you up," he says quickly, pulling the guitar over his head. He props it up by the open doorway, Junie tugging at his jeans the whole while.

"So demanding!" he teases, scooping her up to prop on his hip and unveiling the flowers at the same time.

You aren't looking. He nudges them towards her face and shakes them gently.

Junie can't decide what's more fun, the flowers or Eddie. She wraps her arms around his neck as best as she can but stares at the flowers with a dawning comprehension.

"What are these, baby?" he asks, holding them lower so she can see them all in view. They're mostly red. There's some whites too, big round roses among other flowers he can't name.

"Red," she says quickly. "White. Yellow, blue, green."

She's not right, there aren't any yellows or blues, but he can only blame himself for drilling them into her the way he had. She's showing off that she knows them all, and she deserves some praise.

"Good job! Red, white," he shakes the bouquet enough to reveal a few small pink ones, "pink flowers. They're pretty, don't you think? Pretty as you and mommy?" He hums to himself, patting her back thoughtfully. “Maybe not that pretty."

You're not listening. If you were he's not sure he could say it, not while you're looking like you do. You're always pretty, always, but right now he feels like he did the first time he saw you. Just gone.

Junie tells him something, a more factual tone and air about her. He rubs the top of her upper arm encouragingly, asking, "Is that right?"

"Do you want food?" you call.

He sets June down on her feet and she hates it until he wraps her hands around the bouquet's neck. "Can you give these to your mom for me? Please?" Junie stares at them. "For mommy," he adds, pointing at you where you're closing the cabinet door.

Junie, the tiny smarty-pants that she is, runs to you. Eddie's a coward for it, but he doesn't think he can give them to you himself under honest pretenses, doesn't think he could admit that he'd been thinking about getting you flowers for a while now. Much easier to have her give them to you.

You make a sound like you've swallowed a gasp and stare at them.

"They're nice, right? I saw them and I thought they'd make a good apology for last night."

You don't take them. You can't contain a smile, but you don't take them.

"I'm sorry if I made any trouble for you," he says tentatively.

You drop your hand on top of Junie's head. Your tone is warm, each word reassuring. "No, you didn't. She just… you know, she has a routine, and she loves when you come around. She missed you. That's not your fault."

"Okay, good. I missed her too. Nobody can jam out like she can.”

Junie whacks you in the thigh. Eddie's starting to think he did something wrong because you still haven't taken them from her, your eyes as unreadable as the way your hands move, rigid and curling.

You shake them out and finally take the flowers.

"Thanks, baby," you say. Then, looking at him. "Thank you."

"You can get me back," he says.

Shell shock turns to eagerness. "Yeah, anything."

He picks up the spilled groceries and brandishes them at you. In one hand is this week's dessert, a huge carton of rocky road ice cream, the fancy kind with big chocolate chips and fluffy marshmallows on top. In the other, a plastic jug of your favourite drink.

"Find room for these in the fridge?"

Since accepting them, you've yet to put down the flowers, holding them protectively to your chest as you take what he’s offering and carry them into the kitchen.

June runs full pelt at his legs and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up.

"You're so happy today!" he cheers, saccharine sweet as she burrows her little face into his collar. "Have you been having a good day with mom? I love your matching outfits."

You try to hide how the compliment affects you, face buried in the freezer. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that your freezer has ample room, you don’t need to look for space. and he can see the way your hand tightens around the bouquet. He loves how shy you've become lately over his compliments, no matter how small. It's worth the possibility of making a fool of himself to see you flustered.

Junie reports back on the day. Eddie listens intently for words he might understand but finds none.

He doesn't let this bother him, leaning against the counter behind so he can hold Junie low on his stomach to watch her expressions flicker, hands encapsulating her back. She looks happy, obviously, but she also looks very intent on something.

"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head toward her knowingly. "Was the grocery store exciting? Did you do anything else?"

"Duckies!" she says.

"Duckies? You saw ducks?" he asks curiously, looking to you for confirmation.

You're still holding your flowers to your chest.

Junie chatters. "Duck, duck, duck."

"What's she talking about?" he asks, pulling her up enough for her head to rub against his chin.

"Oh, we went to the duck pond. She was obsessed," you say.

"Right, right. Can't say I blame her.”

"Trying to explain why they weren't yellow took some dedication."

Eddie smiles at you softly. "You can put them down, you know."

Your eyes flicker between him and the flowers. "I- nobody's ever got me flowers before. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do with them. I don't… have a vase."

He hadn't realised he'd be the first guy to get you flowers. It makes him wanna wrap you up and hug you, because how is it fair that a girl like you never got flowers? Not once?

"Shit," he says instead.

He flinches hard and looks at Junie. She's too busy with her hands in his hair to notice what he's said. He apologises anyways.

You roll your eyes. Eddie's relieved to see it's with obvious fondness, a funny lopsided smile to your lips.

"If she starts dropping s-bombs, you're the one who has to deal with it," you warn.

"I will.”

He takes a step toward you and you take a step toward him.

You hum and hold the flowers up to Junie as he had before. "Aren't these just something else? Look how pretty they are! Why don't you pick one, baby?"

Eddie shifts her onto the right side and you both watch her touch them, hands adorably careful as she feels the leaves between her fingers and pokes the fuzzy yellow centre of a flower with white, round petals.

"That one?" you murmur, pulling it out from the rest with the same adorable carefulness.

Junie accepts the flower and immediately shows it to Eddie, ecstatic.

“Yellow," she proclaims.

"And white," he says, ruffling the petals with his index finger.

She smells like talc and you, that soft jasmine perfume, and her hair is fragrant where it tickles his face. He indulges and hugs her that little bit tighter. She indulges him in turn and hugs him back, the flower petals cold and silky against his neck.

"How do you…" You scratch the base of your neck. "Do you think I could squeeze all the stalks into one glass?"

It's only a bunch from the grocery store but he thinks a glass might be a little too small. "Maybe you can split it? Have one in your room, one in here."

You set about following his suggestion, snipping away the cellophane with a pair of scissors and acquiring two tall glasses. The stalks are tall. You trim them down and begin arranging them. Eddie has no clue why you're being as particular as you are but he's happy for you to do as you please, traipsing into the living room where Junie seems to have been running rampant before his arrival with intentions of cleaning up.

He closes the front door and bends at the waist to let Junie back on her feet.

She goes down easy enough. Eddie turns on the TV to keep her occupied while he whips around the room. He wants to clean (as best as he can) before you see him and tell him to stop. He puts your small handbag and Junie's backpack at the sideboard by the door. He sweeps up all of her toys and tucks them under the television as you would, then moves onto the rogue dirtied pajamas on the floor. They're Junie's favourites, the ones with tiny strawberries that she always chooses when given the option.

Your laundry basket isn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. He attempts to sneak past you where you're still arranging flowers intently. The sight of you stops him in his tracks.

I need to get her a vase, he thinks. And another bouquet.

You turn to him, a pleased expression turning your features from pretty to chest-achingly lovely.

He holds up the pajamas and then keeps on down the hall to the bathroom, even as you chasten, "Eddie," with a fond exasperation.

You showcase your first bouquet upon his return, sheepish, awaiting judgement. You're conflicted tonight, a handful of emotions shaken and stirred.

"Tada," you sing.

"Looks sick, sweetheart. If this whole waitressing thing doesn't work out for you, you could definitely be a florist."

You huff a laugh. "Oh, for sure."

"I'm serious. It looks really nice."

He thinks maybe he can see the way you might've been before, in that moment. There's something so young – and you are young, as he is, as he keeps forgetting – about your face and how you take praise. You look like you want desperately to brush it away, and you look like you want him to give you more.

He stands close enough that you're forced to turn back to the counter where the second bouquet is taking form. "This one looks nice too."

"I thought I'd put the prettiest one out here." You lean back and your shoulder presses to his chest. "And then the reject in my room," you say, chin lifted to look him dead in the eye.

He feels heat crawling up his neck and decides to fight fire with fire, even if the fire is entirely imagined. "Do you often have rejects in your bedroom?" he questions with a smarmy smile.

You laugh. Far from the polite and prim giggling you'd used when you first met, though that was cute, too, this laugh is something else. He wishes he had a tape deck with him to record it, play it back.

"Only if they're very pretty," you say. You place the last of the flowers into the second bouquet. "And these ones are beautiful. Thank you, Eddie. You didn't have to get me flowers."

"I wanted to."

Your head falls gently against the top of his shoulder. He stands very still.

The faucet drips. The TV plays. If he listens, Eddie can hear the sound of kids outside on their bikes, shouting and jeering.

Like this, he can see the curve of your neck, the hill of your chin. He can see the pillows of your lips and the slopes of your cheek. The darling shape of your nose. He knows a kiss would fit there well, fit there perfectly, if he would only raise his hand to your shoulder. Turn you ever so slightly.

Even the flat of your forehead begs for affection. He can almost feel it from looking at you – the warmth of your skin under his lips. He can't decide whether he'd kiss you from temple to temple, or smack dab on your crown. Between your brows, at the tail of them. The corner of your eye might work.

Anything would work.

Eddie lifts his hand. Careful not to startle you, he cups the side of your waist like he had before a hundred moons ago when you'd cut his hair in this same kitchen. He spreads his fingers wide and inches over your soft abdomen, feeling for the shape of you.

You turn your cheek into his shoulder. He lets his lips touch the back of your head.

Plinking echoes from the living room sudden enough to startle you in tandem. Kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you and Eddie both turn to the living room and come away from one another. You're more confused than Eddie at the sound; a split-second and you're out of reach.

He closes his hand and follows you. Now past the obscurification of the cabinets, he can see that Junie's finally noticed his guitar and has pulled it down flat on the floor.

She plays with the strings enthusiastically. Eddie can't bring himself to care at her roughness when she looks the way she does, curious and entertained, giggling her contagious baby laugh.

"I forgot you brought that," you say, looking to him, he suspects, for a cue. A silent, Is she allowed?

Of course she is. “I told you I'd give you a private show."

"What happened to the amp?"

"My hands were full." Eddie sits on the floor to Junie's left. "Whatcha doing, trouble?"

She hits the neck.

He takes her hand in a gentle grip and encourages the side of her finger across the strings.

She laughs thick and sweet as honey. "Brmm," she imitates, lips pinching between giggles as he helps her do it again.

"You're a total rockstar," he says.

You kneel opposite. "She's gonna lose her mind when you play something."

Eddie feels very smug at what's to come.

You let Junie play for a time, and then you open your arms and she walks around to your side, sitting on your thighs. She continues to reach for the guitar, seems sulky when Eddie picks it up, and quietens when he plays an experimental note.

"Are you gonna sing? I've heard you sing before, you know? You're not bad."

You wrinkle your nose.

First, he plays the Muppet Babies theme tune for June. She gets excited and starts to hum. You have to hold her in your lap to stop her from messing him up. He wouldn't mind if she did. He's hoping, maybe one day when she's old enough to understand, he could get her behind her own guitar. He's not kidding about starting a band.

He drops his eyes to his fingers, shaking his head on instinct to try and shake away the thought.

June sings and sings and eventually, quietly, you start to sing too. You’re purposefully not trying but any flatness is easily made up for by the familiarity of your voice alone. The way you talk, so charming and careful, the sweetness of your newfound shyness and the rough hint of ever-present tiredness you carry, it all seeps into your singing. Eddie adores it.

Junie almost gets some of the words right. It's very exciting for you, Eddie can see it in the tilt of your head. You enunciate precisely and he slows the tempo to give you time.

"It really sounds like she's almost there. She definitely said 'dreams come true,’” he says as the song ends.

"You think?"

"Definitely. Do you want to sing it again?" he asks, words falling into a high-pitched sugar, eyes on Junie.

"More?" you add, a slight correction. Junie doesn't know what 'again' means yet, but she understands 'more'.

"More," she says seriously.

You go through it one more time. If he plays slow to drag out your reluctant singing, that's his business.

He unveils his next song with a dash of edgy stage presence. "For my next song, I'll be playing what can only be described as the absolute pinnacle of music."

He sounds legitimate.

Your eyebrows pinch together at his sombre attitude. "Sure."

"I'm gonna play it as true to form as I can, but… I don't have a banjo. So…"

He plays the first few seconds of Kermit The Frog's The Rainbow Connection.

When he sings, he does it after an internal pep talk consisting of a scathing, Be brave, idiot.

"Why are there so many, songs about rainbows. And what's on the other side?" he sings, trying and failing to sound like Kermit. He abandoned that pursuit immediately in favour of his regular voice. Thankfully it's a slow song. Simple. It doesn't take much to play, either. The real challenge are the lyrics, which he doesn't really know. "Rainbows are visions, but only… illusions?"

You bob your head appraisingly, hands crossed over Junies front, cheek pressed to the top of her head.

"And rainbows have nothing to hide."

You’re making it impossible to concentrate, looking as earnest, homespun, and ridiculously pretty as you do. Pretty in more than just your looks. The way that you watch him, the way you rub a pattern over Junie's ribs, it’s all so indicative of your heart.

He fucks up the rest. Bad timing, amateurish fingering over the struts, lyrics that escape him. You'd never know he could play Master of Puppets a month after it's debut from the way he performs now.

You cheer, gathering Junie's hands into yours to help her clap.

He blushes like a fool.

—

Dinner tonight – take out.

You're prouder than you should be when Eddie asks, "Can I help you cook tonight?" and you get to say, "No, you can't. I'm not cooking."

You'd never shake your head at a frozen pizza but there's an irreplaceable satisfaction that comes from getting hot food delivered. Maybe it's the convenience, maybe it's that you don't have to cook it yourself. It might even be the grease. Whatever it is, it tastes better than any freezer food ever could.

You've trapped Junie in her high chair. Diaper changed, pajamas on, bib in place. You rolled her sleeves all the way up and gave her two slices of cheese pizza cut into small pieces that have been blown on for a more than generous amount of time and tell her to go ham. She doesn't bother with her plastic fork and you don't blame her, eating your own pizza in a similar fashion.

Rather than sit opposite you or next to Junie, Eddie has opted for the chair on your left. Junie on your right, your daughter eats with an animated little grin that apples her cheeks, giving her that chubby baby-like smile.

"You see her smile?" you ask, taking a big bite of perfect crust. You have to stop yourself from sighing happily, fingers covered in crumbs.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pizza sauce or his face like a little kid.

You sit back in your chair so he can really see her. "She's always been a smiley baby, and when she was much smaller all her smiles were so chubby cheeked. She was chubby cheeked. Now when she smiles like that she makes me remember her when she was a baby."

"I'm not surprised she was a smiley baby if she had you… D'you miss having a baby?"

"Watch yourself," you say, and then giggle as all the blood drains from his face. "Kidding. I don't know if I miss having a baby baby. I mean, she's so little, she's practically still a baby. But I do kinda wish I could go back and hold her as a newborn."

Eddie wipes his cheek and stands up to get some paper towels. He wipes his face and hands and grabs the juice from the fridge to fill his glass (that's basically still full) and then yours (the real reason he'd stood, you reckon).

"Was she heavy?" he asks.

You worry for a moment he's humouring you. It's clear how much you love Junie, you know it is, and that shows in how much you want to talk about her. You'd never expected that part, though of course it makes sense – sometimes she smiles and you wanna call the newspapers – and you don't think Eddie's insincere. He seems like he genuinely wants to know and that's enough for you to want to round the table and throw your arms over his shoulders.

"I think…" You pick up your glass and hesitate with the rim to your lip. "I think if you'd held her back then, you wouldn't think she was heavy."

He practically smolders, bringing an arm up to tense his bicep. "Thank you."

You laugh at him. "Shut up! I just think, you've been good with her ever since you met her. When I held her for the first time it's a good thing I was laying down. I probably would've dropped her."

Eddie takes Junie's sippy cup to fill. You'd say it was a waste if he hadn't bought it himself, she's too busy eating her weight in cheese to care about something as rudimentary as juice.

"You would not have dropped her."

"I would've."

"You wouldn't have! And if you did, it would've been an accident. Next point, they don't have skulls, right? No harm, no foul."

"Who told you babies don't have skulls?"

"...I'm not at liberty to say."

You eat the rest of your crust and shake your head at his misguided education. "They have skulls, Eddie. The scalp is super soft and fragile for ages, but they definitely have skulls. You know what they don't have?"

Eddie squeezes Junie's shoulder as he walks behind her. "What?" he asks in alarm, passing you to sit down again. His knees touch the side of your thigh.

"Kneecaps."

His hand stops on the way to the pizza box, body frozen.

"What?" he asks, his alarm doubled.

"Swear down. No knee caps."

"Don't they need them? For crawling? I feel like knee caps are more important than skulls."

"If you didn't have a skull you wouldn't be able to breathe," you say, though you're guessing.

"What use is breathing if you can't move?"

You turn to him to take him in properly. You beam, because this is an outlandish conversation and you're enjoying every second of it and he looks just as happy as you feel.

"Do babies need to move? June could never move again and I'd still look after her,” you counter.

"Sweetheart, you're cheating."

"I can't exactly breathe for her-"

"What are you talking about? Of course you could. I don't know how but you'd find a way, Y/N, I know what you're like."

Your teeth click together, a funny retort squashed down by his unexpected admittance of faith. He always does this; Eddie loves to tell you the kindest things anyone has ever told you like they don't cost him a thing.

"I would," you agree, blinded by love rather than supported by any logic.

"Mommy," Junie says, like she knows she's the topic of your hypothetical devotion and she wants in. "More pizza"

"Please?" you tack on, though her small sentence had impressed you to the point of elation. You turn to her already with your hand in the pizza box.

"Pizza," she says. You love the way she says it, like the 'zuh' sound at the end is a complete surprise.

The pizza's cold enough by now to give it to her intact. She's amazed at the big slice you put on her plate, picking it up with a coordination you know is taking a lot of effort for her.

"Good job, baby," you praise, using her distraction to pull a little string of cheese off of her messy cheek.

She takes a huge bite. You watch her worried she's gonna choke, and feel Eddie's knees press deeper into your thigh as he moves forward to join in.

"Is it weird that she's impressing me right now?" he asks.

You giggle and roll your shoulders back until you can feel the brush of his hair against your shirt. "No, she's awesome."

For dessert, you insist on plating up. Or bowling up. You scoop a more generous than she should really have portion for Junie, something similar for Eddie, and a normal portion for yourself.

"On the couch?" Eddie asks.

You can see him cleaning up Junie out of the corner of your eye. You wish he wouldn't but you're grateful that he does. His attentiveness makes your hands feel heavy in that you remember you have them, and you remember what it's like to want to hold someone else's.

"Yeah," you say, though eating on the couch makes you nervous. You don't want to ruin it. You're lucky you even have one.

Eddie scoops Junie up easy and pats her back.

“You put away a lot of cheese, kid. A lot. Was that yummy or what?"

She burps. His laughter is roaring and boyish as he applauds her.

"You're patting her back, she's gonna keep burping.”

"That's what you're supposed to do for babies, isn't it?"

He stands under the harsh kitchen light with his face turned away and down toward Junie, hair a mess of flyaways, t-shirt covered in shiny toddler fingerprints over one shoulder and jeans slipping down low on his hips. Your explanation comes breathlessly. "When you give a baby a bottle they suck in too much air and it gives them trapped wind. You burp that kind of baby. Not greedy almost three year olds."

"She is not almost three."

"I think I'd know, Munson."

"She's like, two and a half at most."

"I'm rounding up for emphasis," you say, and glare at his eyebrows rising.

He pats her back some more anyways. She burps again and he laughs even more. "Juniper The Burpiest," he says to himself as he walks away, voice fading as he settles down across the way on the couch.

Junie has crashed and burned, warm thick cheese and dough putting her quickly into a close to listless state in his lap. He faces her out toward the TV and she leans heavily against his chest with his hands around her torso, propping her up. You shepherd in the desserts.

"Gimme Junie's," Eddie says.

"She's gonna fall asleep," you say, but pass it over anyhow.

Eddie places the bowl of rocky road in her lap with a hand between to stop from making her legs cold and starts to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She accepts. It's adorable to watch. His face over her shoulder, Junie's face slowly deflating, eyes bleary and blinking as her lips close lazily around the spoon. She barely flinches at the cold.

You eat your own ice cream in the seat next to them and wonder if this is forever.

Eddie wipes her chin with the side of his hand and watches her head fall. He wears a loving smile. It makes you want to cry, to know someone else loves her.

You let all your weight fall against his shoulder and eat your ice cream casually. This is the least casual thing you've ever done. Spoon in your mouth, you press your cheek to the top of his arm and glue your gaze to the TV.

You swear you can feel his eyes on you, but when you chance a look he's watching the TV, head inclined to yours ever so slightly, a hand brushing Junie's hair from her dozing face. You're weak. You give yourself over to what you want and turn your nose to his arm. He smells lIke he always does, warm in the truest definition of the word.

You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel Eddie take the bowl from your hands and set it next to Junie's. You want to open your eyes and say sorry but they’re heavier than you'd thought, and you can only manage a murmur of sound.

His hand sliders under your elbow and curls around your arm. His head drops on top of yours so softly you almost don't feel it.

You doze, digging your face further into his arm, feel the curve of it under your cheek and the cut off of his sleeve rising.

A frayed thread tickles your cheek and you complain without thinking, sighing your annoyance.

"What?" Eddie asks.

You raise a hand to rub at your face and eyes. "Tickled me."

"Did I? M'sorry."

"T-shirt. Did you cut them yourself?"

"You know it. Was going through a phase."

"Going through."

"Say it to my face," he says. Soft, teasing.

You lift your head and find him smiling at you.

He has a beauty mark under his eye, occluded near completely by his eyelashes. You can't believe you've never noticed it before.

"You have a freckle," you whisper.

"Where?" He nods. "Under my eye?"

"Yeah."

You sit up and stare at him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I've never seen it before," you continue, still whispering. "It blends in with your eyelashes."

"I think you're the first person to see it who isn't my mom. No one ever looks at me this long,” he says quietly.

If his eyes weren't closed you'd never have had the courage to do what you do next. You raise your hand with his cheek, thumb pressed to the skin beside his nose and fingers slipped under his ear. You turn his face toward the light. Eddie lets you without complaint, his breath warm where it fans over your thumb. You push your fingers further until they've threaded into his soft hair, your thumb brushing up under his eye. You part his mess of dainty lashes with your thumbnail until the beauty mark is clear in view.

"That's so sweet," you whisper, awed.

Eddie readjusts Junie in his lap with an overabundance of caution and doesn't speak. He's lax under your touch.

"It's really pretty. You had it since you were a baby?"

"I think so."

You laugh under your breath.

"What?" he asks.

"It suits you." Something pretty hiding in plain view.

"I heard," he says hedgingly, "that freckles are a sign of how you died in a past life."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Bet it was something really gross, like a parasitic worm-"

"Ew."

"Or someone stabbed me. Or shot me. With an arrow."

"You're only twenty. Your past life would have still been in this century."

Eddie opens his eyes just to glare at you. "Don't deprive me of a badass past life. How would you have had me die?"

You push his hair from his face. "You know what I heard about them?"

"What?"

Fun to whisper with him like this. Like you’re younger than you are, trading secrets in the dim light.

"I heard they're kisses from a past life."

You raise your second hand to his cheek and cradle his face.

Eddie leans into it. “You wanna give me one for the next?” he asks, a short fall from salacious.

Your breath doesn’t catch. Your hands don’t shake. “Is that what you want?”

He falters. Bravado slips. Your heart skips a beat, worried maybe he doesn’t like you the way you’re thinking after all.

“Y/N,” he says.

You can’t hear his rejection. You won’t.

You close your eyes and kiss his cheek. Your nose slides over his skin, the heat of his blood under the surface warming your palms, and you steal a second there, two, breathing in his smell. If this is all you get, you can be okay with it. Eventually.

You pull away.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

please forgive any mistakes and how long it took, i have been a bit unwell! hopefully it won’t be too long before part four :3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

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monday morning | lila drysdale au

lila, my love masterlist💐

summary: just some monday morning fluff<3

word count: 0.6k

“Mmm where are you going?” you groan as jamie jostles himself out of bed. he leans over his side and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I have PT this morning,” he replies simply, which brings last night's events rushing back to you. that's right, you thought. Jamie did tell you that he had an appointment last night you were just… too preoccupied to pay much attention to his… words.

jamie straightens up again, and you grasp his arm lightly to pull him back down to you. “I need a proper kiss if you’re going to leave me,”

jamie hums in response, leaning down to properly kiss you on the lips. you both melt into the kiss but before anything has a chance of developing, lilas loud shrieks fill the quiet spaces of your house.

“and… that’s my queue” you sleepily sigh as you pull away from your husband and kick the covers off of you.

“I can go get her,” jamie offers but you easily decline. you had some work to do from home today so it was probably for the best that you woke up now.

“make me a coffee instead?” you ask, to which jamie silently nods.

you walk into lilas nursery and the first thing you notice is her sleepy figure standing up in her crib. she’s leaning against the crib rail, her chubby baby hands holding her upright. she leans back when she sees you open the door, immediately making grabby hands for you.

you pick your girl up with ease, making sure to change her diaper and get her all situated before bringing her downstairs.

jamie, ever the loving husband, put on your favourite background tv show for you to watch while you lay with lila on the couch. “thank you jams,” you mumble softly as you sink onto your plush couch. your daughter rests on top of you, cuddling into you as she watches her dad move around the kitchen from over your shoulder.

you exaggerate a gasp, “is that your dada?”

you watch as lila giggles and smiles, mannerisms exactly like her fathers. “dada!” she repeats, nuzzling her face into your neck when jamie makes a silly face at her.

jamie sets your coffee on the side table beside you, before taking lila into his arms. “hi baby girl!” he coos much to lila’s delight. he rest’s lila on his hip before continuing to go through his morning routine.

“And now, I'm going to put the toast in the toaster!” jamie narrates, encouraging all of lilas babbles with nods and replies. “yeah! And I'm going to put mommys in again because she likes her toast burnt…”

“I like it crispy!” you pipe up from your spot on the couch.

Jamie hums loudly enough for you to hear before stage-whispering, “she likes it burnt” to your giggling daughter.

after drinking half of your coffee, you are awake enough to start helping with breakfast. you cut up some fruit for lila, and then move on to start making jamie’s protein shake. you’ve gotten the process down to a science, and you were quite proud that you managed to make it to your husbands liking. if there’s one thing you learnt about athletes through living with jamie, it’s that they’re very specific with their different drinks and routines.

you hold out the shake to jamie, who awes appreciatively. “have i ever told you that you’re the best wife a guy could ask for?”

“only a million times,” you smile, sticking your cheek towards jamie who swiftly places a kiss there.

“well it's going to be a million and one because you’re the best!” jamie smiles at you, and you can’t help but reminisce on how quickly things have changed between the two of you. one minute you guys are exes who hookup whenever jamie was back in toronto… and now you share a babygirl and have been married for three months. life was so good.

yndrysdale

liked by jamie.drysdale, sandyliang, and others

yndrysdale monday morning🫂💐

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jamie.drysdale my loves❤️

yndrysdale you're my love forever💗

trevorzegras ive got the cutest goddaughter😭😭

wagbff looks like the perfect monday!💘

user01 those flowers are so pretty!!

yndrysdale thank u! jamie has them delivered to the house every monday💗

user02 lila's the cutest baby i'm cryingg

user03 omg what's the third slide?

user04 y/n works with a bunch of designer/fashion brands lol

user05 we dgaf now post jamie

user06 ?

yndrysdale posted to their story!

#lila my love au #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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imaginidol · 10 months

Text

Jongho: Backstage After-Hours

!!mentions of NSFW!! 18+ !! do NOT interact if you are not comfortable with smut!! as requested, here is a Jongho smut fic for you! This one is also pretty long so be prepared for that :3 IF you are comfortable, you may read more smuts here: hongjoong, san, mingi, yunho, wooyoung. PLEASE feel free to request more if you'd like! I'll get to ALL requests soon!!

The last thing you would've expected of this year was to be screaming your lungs out at a front-row seat for ATEEZ.

The shock overwhelmed you the night that the ATEEZ tickets were released for their tour, and no more than four seconds into the queue, you managed to snag a front-row seat.

Front row. Front. Row. To ATEEZ.

Sure, this meant you'd be working overtime for the next few weeks, but it was a small sacrifice to pay for the unmatched excitement that would await you soon. You've never been so quick to put any purchase like this into your credit card, and now the day finally came and here you were--screaming you rabid lungs out for the boys who made you the happiest person in the world.

Your live-in-the-moment excitement bounced off and influenced the fans around you. Soon enough, your side of the pit was the most fun to visit by the boys. They loved the energy, the fact that you were hopping around and screaming your heart out, singing along to all of their songs, and you were one of the few fans who didn't have a phone up to your face capturing the perfect fancam for the entirety of the 3-hour long concert duration.

Now, if your luck for front-row hadn't been enough to convince you that fate was indeed real, you were surely re-considering it when a security guard briskly walked up to you as you started leaving your seat, asking you to follow him once the concert ended.

Am I in trouble? is all you can think in your head as you nervously walk behind the guard, going over the events of the night that might've caused a misunderstanding.

Maybe they think I'm a sasaeng. Maybe my tickets were a fraud!?

To your surprise, you weren't yelled at or interrogated at all. Instead, a tall, slender woman with a KQ shirt greets you with a smile.

"Before you accept to come backstage and we proceed with anything further, I'll need you to sign this," she hands you a pen and a clipboard with an NDA form for you to read and fill out.

I'm being given an NDA. A Non-Disclosure Agreement. These things only happen in...

You shakily hand back the form with your information and initials signed.

...fanfiction.

The woman takes you towards the back and you quietly admire a multitude of stretching backup dancers, audio and sound engineers, large camera and videography equipment, and so much more.

It's a lot brighter than I ever imagined a backstage to be, you thought, attempting to distract yourself from the impending elephant that would soon ensue.

Finally, you're introduced to Choi Jongho, main vocalist, main dancer, and the infamous maknae of ATEEZ.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Ah, I didn't think you'd agree to come back here," he bows his head, offering you a warmest smile and a water bottle. "I'm Jongho, thank you for coming."

He offers you a seat on a single-seater sofa, closing the door of his dressing room behind him. He sat himself on another single-seater to be closer to you, and now you were practically face-to-face with one of the most beautiful boys to ever cross your existence.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This. Isn't. Fucking. Happening.

"I know who you are," you giggle, introducing yourself and offering your warmest smile, ignoring the obvious screaming and fangirling raging on in your head.

"I wanted to meet you backstage because I wanted to tell you that I saw you up front," he smiles, "and I really liked your energy. I wanted to meet you so bad."

"You liked my energy?" you scoff, "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"You wouldn't be too surprised if you knew what it's like from the stage," he smirked. "There's always a camera on you. I don't blame anyone, of course, because you do what you want with what you pay for. But sometimes the crowd is too immersed in their videos that they forget to enjoy the moment. It makes me feel like a robot."

He turns to you, covering his mouth in slight embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invite you here to listen to me vent."

"No," you giggle, "I totally get it. I enjoyed the moment with you guys too, and I loved seeing you come to my side of the stage when we linked. Sharing interactions like that really made me feel like you guys noticed me, too. You're really great performers."

"Thank you," he smiles.

Several small conversations (and several arm pinches to make sure you weren't dreaming or anything) later, you manage to calm yourself down the more and more you talked with Jongho.

He really is just an ordinary person, just like me.

"Who's your bias?" the boy suddenly asks, leaning back against his chair.

"My bias? Currently you, obviously," you laugh.

"Nah, you're just saying that 'cause I'm right here," he says.

"Fine. My bias currently is Yunho."

"Currently? What, it changes?"

"Mm-hmm," you nod, "I can't ever stick to one bias. You're all just so fun to stan."

"Okay," he grins, "we could change it from Yunho to me then, right?"

You grin, covering your mouth as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"How about you?" you poke back.

"Me?"

"Yeah, who's your favorite fan? Is that even a thing?"

He lets out a loud laugh, turning back to you.

"You could be my favorite fan," he smirks.

"You're also just saying that," you smile.

"Can I be honest?"

You cock your head to the side, a curious smile beaming across your face. "Honest? About what?"

"You're the only fan I've asked to come backstage for this tour," he says quietly.

"You're lying," you giggle.

"I'm not," he whispers as a more endearing smile crosses his face. "I think you're also very pretty."

He eyed you steadily now, slow blinking and leaning back against his chair. You couldn't help but think about where this could lead to, if you allowed it.

"Is that why you made me sign an NDA?" you smirk, crossing your legs and leaning against the armchair.

The boy scoffs, looking away in embarrassment. "No, I didn't mean to come off as--"

"Relax," you tease, "I'm just messing with you. I think you're really cute, too. Way cuter in person."

You eye him steadily now, a sly grin meeting his. "Can I be honest now?"

He keeps his eyes locked on you, marveling at the way the apples of your cheeks illuminated your face when you smiled.

"I'd love to put that NDA to good use."

Jongho smiles slowly, relaxing against his chair and man-spreading his legs.

"Come here, then," he whispers.

His expression fades to lust at the sight of you slowly making your way to his lap. One of the many things he loved about you tonight was your outfit. You were wearing a black and white blazer dress with a deep, plunging neckline. An outfit that made your pretty face stand out in a crowd, but also one that implied you were grown enough to fuck.

And man, was he glad that you were initiating it.

You lean over him as he pulls your legs over his lap, grazing his lips gently against yours, closing your eyes as you caressed each other's faces and bodies in unison. As he kisses you slowly, he brings a hand against your thighs, curiously outlining his fingertips over your curves. You bring a hand to his jaw and push further into his mouth, inviting his tongue into yours with each fervent kiss. Jongho glides his hand from your hips to your inner thighs, circling his fingers around your clothed groin. The feel of Jongho's fingers poking at you through your clothes was enough to make you crave for his warmth against your body.

"Jongho," you whisper into him, "let me entertain you tonight."

You begin sliding off his lap and start unbuttoning your dress, taking a few step backs as you slowly and seductively exposed more of your collarbone, shoulders, and breasts. You step out of your dress and fold it neatly on the floor, using it as a cushion for your knees.

Jongho bites his lower lip and brings a hand to cover his mouth to hold back a grunt. Seeing you bend to your knees in front of him was enough to ignite an emerging boner rising deep inside his black sweatpants.

You slowly glide your hands against his hips until you reach the waist of his pants, tugging at them slowly until his boxers were out.

Cute, you think, as you're greeted by a pair of pink AllSaints boxers.

"I ran out of black pairs," is all he can embarrassingly admit, his cheeks growing bright and hot at seeing your smile.

"No," you whisper, "these are so much better."

You pull his boxers down to reveal his long, hardened cock already pleading for your entertainment.

You dampen your lips as you begin stroking the erect member with your hands, pulling soft, deep strokes as the boy reposed against his chair.

He bites his lip harder to hold back a low grunt, his lust for you enticing further at the feel of your warm hands wrapped around him. He exhaled deeper and heavier breaths as you began twisting his member, gently stroking it over and over. Suddenly, he felt the warmth and wetness of your tongue delicately licking against his tip.

The boy reaches a hand to your head, calmly running his fingers through your hair before proceeding to nudge you further, bringing your mouth gingerly around his cock. You obeyed, sucking on him considerately before picking up the pace.

You experimented with your timing for a bit, switching between your hands and your mouth (and sometimes both) wrapped around his throbbing member. The boy's breathing intensified as he began to feel himself on the verge of reaching a climax. He massaged your scalp as he pushed you deeper into him, soft sounds of gagging and choking erupting in the air.

The boy lets out a whimper as he looks down to see you shying away from him, licking your lips and wiping your mouth as you stood up.

"Why'd you--why'd you stop? I.. I was so.."

You grinned, knowing that edging him was part of the entertainment deal you wanted to give him exclusively.

"Are you being entertained? I didn't say I was done," you grin, climbing back on his lap and wrapping your thighs around his cock. You leaned into him, placing your hands over his shoulders as you slowly began riding his dick, throwing your head back as your soft moans progressively got louder. All at once, the tempered boy was also thrusting himself underneath you, desperately wanting to take charge of what was about to come.

And so, when he couldn't hold himself back anymore, he did.

He stood up and carried you towards his vanity mirror, sitting you against the tabletop. Your legs wrapped around his waist, sinking your fingernails deep into his back, gasping as the boy started fucking you. And he was going in hard.

From behind you, he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he fucked you hard, and to his surprise, the reflection in the mirror had aroused him even more. The way your legs were clenched and buckled around his waist, the way you bounced up and down at every protruding thrust, the way your head was leaning into his shoulder as you desperately bit into his blades with hopes of silencing your screams. Now he was going in harder, clutching onto the sides of the desk as the furniture rattled underneath you both.

He turned to face you, sticking his tongue inside your mouth agape. At this point, he was taking full control of you and your body, and all you could do was try to ease the thristing moans repeatedly escaping your lips.

"Fuck," Jongho grunts as he feels himself on the verge of climaxing, and in a sudden instant you find yourself on your back against the floor in an attempt to make you more comfortable.

If only there was a fucking longer couch instead of single ones, he quietly cursed in his head, pulling your legs over his shoulders and mindlessly fucking you on the carpet. While the floor wasn't the most comfortable place to fuck, it had come in great luck as Jongho had managed to finally reach your G-spot.

You tightened your handgrip against the legs of the vanity desk behind you, letting out the last of your cries before feeling the hot release of your orgasm rush through your lower abdomen. You noticed the boy's face scrunch up as he was about to ejaculate inside of you, and then in an instant you felt the rush of his hot cum spilling in and all over your inner thighs, making a mess of the floor beneath you.

"Fuck," he panted, bringing your legs down from his shoulders and wrapping them around his hips instead. You looked in awe as the sweat drops rolled down his forehead, his mouth agape and eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing.

You sat up and placed your hands around his jaw, giving him a quick kiss before he could open his eyes again.

"What was that for?" he smiled tiredly.

"For being a good performer off-stage, too," you smirk.

He laughs, repositioning himself on the floor to where you were sitting across his lap again, his hands wrapped around your waist and your arms around his neck.

"You're a good fan," he says, his eyes softening as a smile crossed your face, "both in a crowd and in private."

You smile, letting him pepper kisses all over your cheek, jaw, and lips.

"Are you gonna look for me when you come back for your next tour?" you say, cocking your head to the side.

"I don't think you believed me when I said you're the only person I've picked from a crowd for this tour," he insists again.

"You're lying, that's why I don't believe you," you tease.

"I'm serious. I mean, I've invited people over before... for my past tours... but none of them have had as much of a colorful personality as yours. You're the first who really stuck out to me in a long time, really. Both on and offstage. I hope you never lose that part of you."

"Awe," you smile warmly, "look at you being so sweet. It makes me kind of want to bias you, now."

"I haven't been able to change your mind from biasing me instead of Yunho?" he furrows his brows in annoyance.

"I don't know yet," you shrug, planting another soft kiss against his cheek.

"Then I guess that leaves me only one option," he grins, giggling into your neck and rocking you gently back and forth, "be my girlfriend one day, so I can make more time to convince you to always choose me."

small pt. 2 coming soon!! (sfw :))

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Electric

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Passionate al fresco thunderstorm sex…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, passionate sex al fresco during a thunderstorm, a touch of biting, marking. Also, beware, this has a very soppy ending. Yes, that needs a warning.

Word Count: 3.7k

Authors Note: Not what I should be working on, sorry. Sort of a request fill for a handful of my lovely discord mutuals (you know exactly who you are). Blame the thunderstorms that tore through the Northeastern US yesterday for this one. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading through for me. OK, now back to my queue that I should be writing. Enjoy <3

“We must have taken a wrong turn,” you sigh, watching the gathering shelf of dark grey, almost purple-hued clouds rolling overhead just as dusk approaches, the lightning flashes you had seen on the horizon a few minutes before a harbinger.

“Yes, I think so,” Benedict admits quietly, scanning the surrounding countryside of the narrow single-track lane you are on somewhere in the wilds of Cornwall. He took over the driving duty a couple of hours ago.

“I don’t think we’ll make it to the reception dinner on time now. We probably should have downloaded the route so we could have navigated offline,” your voice rueful about your lack of planning.

“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” he shrugs as he flicks on the wipers, rain pattering onto the widescreen. His laissez-faire attitude to the dilemma is somehow a calming influence over your vague anxiety about being late. And lost. In an approaching storm. He always seems so calm in the face of everything; you envy him a touch.

There are a few minutes of silence as you ponder what to do. Whether you should try to find a spot wide enough to turn around and backtrack or keep going, knowing you are headed in the approximate correct direction, in the hope the patchwork of country lanes crisscrossing the area will eventually lead you somewhere more promising—all the while, glancing up at the darkening sky.

“Pull over. I might have an old-fashioned roadmap lurking somewhere in the boot,” you offer as the car slips into a tunnel of trees, the lack of view galvanising your resolve to find a way out.

“Will it be detailed enough for us to work out where we are?” he frowns.

“Better than hoping for our phones to work out here, especially in a storm,” you point out, holding up yours that still reads No Service as if mocking you.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He drives a little further until there is a pull-in designed for passing; it’s just about the length of your car. By now, the rain is pelting down; it is almost night-time dark under the canopy of trees; the thunk of heavy drops on the car roof is more pronounced as it filters through the dense branches above.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you unbuckle your strappy evening sandals.

“It’s pissing it down, and I’m certain this lay-by will be all muddy. I’m not ruining these fancy new shoes.”

“So you are just going to get muddy feet instead?”

“Yes, my feet are washable; these are not,” you argue, waving the shoes before tossing them into the backseat.

“Look, you stay here. I’ll get the map,” he offers chivalrously, “just tell me approximately where you think it might be?”

“I have no idea,” you admit sheepishly, “somewhere under our suitcases… and, well, everything else piled back there. Sorry…” you wince a little, apologetic.

He rolls his eyes without heat, throws open the driver’s door, slams it shut, and sprints to the back of the car just as thunder claps make you jump. You hear him rummaging around in the boot for a while then there is a muffled voice saying that he can’t find anything. You glance in the rearview mirror and see him close it, then tip his head up and let the rain sluice over him, giving up on attempting to stay dry.

“Ben, get back in here,” you shout, cracking your window a tiny amount, droplets painting your arm even with an inch of opening.

“No point now, I'm soaked through,” he laughs loudly, and you watch as he jogs around in front of the car and throws his arms aloft in the beam of the headlights whooping in child-like delight. “Come join me!” he yells over the din of the rain.

All you can do is stare incredulously as he stands there, his white shirt turning translucent and clinging to his torso, rivulets of rain running down his face and slicking back his hair. He looks beautiful. Handsome. Carefree. His face cracks into a large grin as he spins slowly and tilts his head back.

“Come on!” he calls again, shouting skyward.

With a twisted pout, you reach over and flick off the ignition, the headlights cutting out. Tentatively you open the door, and the noise hits you like a wall, the rain sheeting down, splattering noisily onto the road, that intensity which only comes with a summer storm rolling in to usher out the heat. You take one rueful look at your floral dry-clean-only knee-length dress and then step out. Your foot sinks into the squelchy, verdant grass verge as he jogs up to you, arms aloft in celebration, almost giddy with excitement.

“This storm is intense, isn't it?! Let's go into the field over there. I bet the view over the valley is amazing!” he declares, grabbing your hand and heading for an opening among the line of trees.

“Ben…” you trail, your gait reluctant, feeling a trickle of rain track down your spine from your neck all the way into your underwear.

“We are never going to make it to that wedding reception on time now,” he accurately surmises, “So… lets's just… enjoy this! Live in the moment! When do we get thunderstorms this intense?! Hardly ever. Come on!!” he grins, shaking your joined hand slightly to gee you along.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and the rain is surprisingly refreshing after the last few days of stifling heat; you find yourself capitulating and letting yourself be dragged along.

“Come here,” he laughs, picking you up bridal style when he notices the slightly rough stony ground under the tree cover.

You can’t help your laughing bubbling up as he carries you until you reach the grassy field, his body flexing against you, stirring something in you. You've been together for a few months now, long enough to be each other’s plus one for friends' weddings, such as was supposed to happen tonight, but still in that early flush of romance where given half a chance, you will not leave a bed all weekend.

He gently places you back on your feet, and once outside the tree cover, you are soaked through within seconds. Your dress rapidly becomes heavy and glued to your skin. You don’t even want to think about your hair and makeup….

“You look beautiful,” he assures, as if reading your mind, a soft smile on his handsome face, all jaw and cheekbones as water sluices over the contours.

“So do you,” your reply is a truthful reflex, and his responding demure smile melts a hot pool in your chest, like a little oil lantern you hold behind your ribs just for him.

“Let's go see,” he urges, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders. Yours bands around his slim waist, the water from the back of his shirt seeping over your forearm as you do so.

It’s about fifty feet of slight incline until the field falls away, and there is suddenly a beautiful rolling vista of the Cornish countryside before you. Little fields dotted with hedgerows and in the sky above the storm slicing across the valley, half still dry and half obscured by a grey fug of heavy rain. Beyond, you can just see a slice of the sea.

You both stop short and just stare at the wonder before you. “See?” he enthuses, squeezing your shoulder.

“It's beautiful,” you admit, even as you have to brush a sodden strand of hair away from your face. A sudden flash of lightning rips high across the sky, making you jump instinctively into him. His hand curls tighter around your shoulder, and your gaze cuts to meet his; something wild there, electric, like the storm you are in.

Wordlessly, he twists to kiss you, the fervency taking you by surprise, his lips hot, the water trickling down his face cool by comparison. Just as you go to deepen it and open your mouth, he pulls back with a little smirk and grabs your hand again, drawing you off to the right. He is making a beeline for a large, sprawling oak sitting majestic but incongruous in the middle of the brow of the field. Likely the remnants of a great wood that once stood here, hundreds of years before, a singular monument to the past.

“Isn't it dangerous to shelter under a tree in a storm?” you question, your words almost stolen by a stray gust of wind.

“Probably,” he buzzes and something in his tone feels daring; he stops moving and pulls you hard into his body. “It's exciting, isn't it?” his words hot over the shell of your ear, and your body feels alive.

Only he can do this. Just one rumbled sentence and a frisson runs through your entire being. Your hands map his neck as you push up onto tiptoe to meet his lips, unable to resist your body's siren call for him. The kiss this time is more frenzied, and as your tongues touch, there is a rumble of thunder you feel reverberate in your ribcage.

“Have you ever had sex outside in a storm?” he whispers over your lips as you part.

“No,” you confess, your eyes fluttering closed as he peppers little kisses across your face.

“Me either. Would you like to?” the ask is murmured into your ear as he gently sucks the edge of your earlobe.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, excited by the prospect, feeling an entirely different wetness between your legs.

Out here in nature with a beautiful view and a storm raging seems adventurous and so elemental, the ozone in the air making every hair on your body stand on end, the petrichor oozing from the earth beneath your toes, the sight and feel of his toned body, soaked, warm skin under cool rain.

You back away from him towards the tree trunk, and although he stays rooted to the spot, his stare is predatory, and his chest heaving as you bite your lip and wordlessly shimmy under your dress until you can drop your underwear.

The noise he makes is as savage as the roll of thunder it accompanies, and in three long, athletic strides, thigh muscle prominent under his clinging trousers, he is on you. Large hands grab your bottom and haul you off your feet; your legs wrap around his hips on instinct as he sucks your neck, walking you backwards until rough bark abrades your shoulder blades. Your fingers card through his drenched hair as you moan under his attention, his hands frenetically pushing your dress high up your thighs until you feel the wind around your bare bottom cheeks.

Everything between you suddenly frantic, like the storm, roiling and tempestuous, every sensation heightened. Warm skin and cold, wet cotton, soft earth and solid treetrunk, light and dark as the view is almost daylight under the intense flash before plunging into dusk again. And the noise. So much noise. The pounding rain, the howling wind whipping through the tree above and whistling low through the grasses, the rolling thunder, his breath hard in your ear, your own moans as you fumble to unzip his fly, feeling his cock insistent against you, so very desperate for him to be inside you immediately.

Your head tilts into a knot of wood as he slides into your body in one swift motion, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts upwards. The feral noise you make is almost lost to the wind, and your eyes roll closed, just going limp at the overwhelming heat and stretch, toes curling around the back of his knee as his trousers slip further down his legs. It's only recently you both agreed to go condom-free, and every time his unsheathed cock plunges into you, it feels so visceral, like every contour and vein was designed to hit just the right spots deep inside.

A hand yanks aside your neckline, with what sounds like a rip in the fabric under your arm, as a wet hand cups your left breast, a fingernail dragging bluntly over your nipple as it puckers almost painfully. All his movements ferocious, so different to his usual gentle, sensual pace in the quietness of your beds. But somehow, it’s precisely what you need, crave, and want. Untamed and tumultuous.

Your base demand for him to fuck you hard is a clarion call that catalyses him to begin moving, his hard hot tip splitting you open with every thrust. Your hands want to be everywhere at once, in his hair, gripping his neck, his shoulders, his back, his bum, tearing open his shirt. They settle on a combination of all; your motions just as fevered as his. When you are able to peel his shirt down to his elbows, he takes over briefly, propping you against the tree, speared deep on his cock as he fights it off around his cuffs and tosses it aside.

“How does this dress undo?” he pants loudly in your ear, and one fumbling hand unzips down your side, giving enough slack for him to tug it over your head.

Then you are both naked, fucking hard against the tree, your sodden clothes discarded around you as you take from each other primally, sucking and biting shoulders hard enough to leave marks, the rough bark rubbing abrasions into your spine and his kneecaps. And yet you do not stop. Like the storm, the intensity is almost like whiplash. He has never fucked you this hard before, and you have never been so rough, fingernails digging into flesh until he grunts, teeth biting his neck, his ear, teeth even grazing his cheek on the way to biting kisses.

Staring over his shoulder at the wondrous view as he surges into you over and over, as you moan encouragements, always so greedy, begging for more, and now, and to never stop. He obliges, kneading the flesh of your bottom, fingers snagging and tugging your nipples, pulling back to stare into your eyes and lean your heads together, slack mouths breathing each other’s air as you ratchet higher.

This is the least you have ever communicated during sex, but somehow it feels superfluous. Like your bodies are in tune, moving in tandem, push and pull, together and apart, over and over and over, your sweat sluiced away by the rain tumbling from the heavy boughs above. The only words spoken are your names, and as he pulls one of your legs up over his forearm, your thigh muscle burning slightly with the stretch, you know it's burning intensity now. Open and vulnerable to him, he brushes your clit with every thrust. You start to scream, the liberating feeling of solitude, miles from anyone and anything, making your inhibitions tumble away. And he loves it, growls at you to be loud, scream his name, his chest swelling with heaving breaths and pride about how he can wring such sounds from you.

This is the sort of sex you have only read about before now - passionate, near animalistic, rabid, frantic, and so addictive you want to move to the countryside and fuck in the woods for the rest of your days. Rain or shine.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and your movements slow a touch as you tilt your eyes up to meet his, seeing the lightning flash behind you reflected in his inky pupils, mouth open and face unable to mask any of your teetering shudders. You are so close to a precipice, almost reluctant to tumble over it, wanting this intoxicating experience never to end. It feels like he wants to say something else, something profound, but the words appear stuck in his throat, almost afraid to be declared.

“Me too,” you whisper urgently, a cryptic enough response to any number of statements he could be struggling to articulate.

He nods ferociously and kisses you like a starved man as he grabs one of your hands and guides it between your bodies, pressed into each other.

“Touch yourself for me, please,” he begs, and you do as he starts that punishing pace again. It's only a few strokes, and you are convulsing, lightning piercing the sky and painting the inside of your eyelids as you screw them shut and allow yourself to tumble over the edge into oblivion, your body convulsing hard, rain trickling hard down your limbs, your skin both hot and cold and too tight at once as you fracture in his arms and slump into him babbling incoherently, Distantly you hear him biting off curses, and with a few thrusts, that push you up off your feet, he stills and shouts a biting version of your name into your shoulder as he comes hard, the warmth coating inside you as yet another clap of thunder causes you both to jolt.

The sound of both of your ragged breathing is louder than the rain as you slowly return to the scene, your thigh slipping from his forearm as he leans into you, into the tree, almost a crushing weight.

“Wow…” he sounds awestruck.

“Ditto,” you struggle out, sharing a lighthearted chuckle.

You wrap around each other in a wordless tangle of limbs, leaning on the solid trunk and mesmerised by the beautiful view, watching as the worst storm clouds move away towards the sea.

Deciding there is barely any point in attempting to re-dress, once the rain abates slightly, you agree to brave the dash back to your car nude, hand in hand and laughing carefree. Once there, you yank open your gym bag and giggle as you both attempt to dry off using the one towel in the backseat, discarding your sodden garments into a plastic bag and laughing uproariously as you pull on your casual clothes for the journey home in the tiny cramped space.

“I’ll never forget tonight,” he says softly, sincerely, after you clamber back into the front seats.

“Me either,” you smile gently back.

You never did find the wedding venue, but somehow, neither of you particularly care.

____

Twelve months later, you are back in Cornwall, and he pulls up in that familiar layby.

“Is this…?” you twist to look at him; it appears so different on a bright sunny July day you almost double-take.

“Yes,” he answers, a nervous energy vibrating off him that seems odd.

“How on earth did you find it again?”.

“A lot of time spent pinching in and out on Google Maps for many weeks,” he confesses meekly.

You laugh and allow him to drag you out of the car, enjoying the sun's warmth as you emerge from the treeline and walk up that slight slope.

The view is just as breathtaking as you remember on a warm sunny afternoon; the memories of that night, always so clear and vivid, come tumbling back as he leads you under the shade of the mighty oak.

You laugh as he whips a penknife from his jeans pocket and carves your initials into the wood, like some cheesy teenage couple. He doesn't release your hand as he does so, so you push up your sunglasses, enjoying drinking in the vista, idly thinking this is such a beautiful spot that you would happily live right here.

“Whoever owns this land will be mad if they ever find this,” you state drolly.

“I think they are just fine with it, actually,” he answers somewhat cryptically, but you let it slide. Perhaps he looked up the owner when researching how to locate the field again.

It's only when he steps away that you notice he has not carved a last initial for you.

“Do I not have a last name?” you raise an arch eyebrow, body checking him lightly in jest, but your brow knits as his nervous energy returns. “Are you okay?” you check.

“What I carve depends on your answer to my next question…,” he rushes over an exhale.

Before you know it, he is down on one knee before you.

And you entirely forget how to breathe.

“I… I couldn't think of anywhere else to ask this…,” he begins tremulant, but you don't even let him finish.

“YES!!” you squeal behind a shaking hand cupped over your mouth.

He laughs and hangs his head briefly. “Can I please ask anyway?” his eyes sparkling as he looks up again.

“Sorry!” you squeak and squeeze his shoulder, fingers trembling. “Please, continue….”

“Y/n, will you marry me?” his face radiates devotion as he holds out a ring box with your ideal ring nestled inside.

“YES!!” you squeal again, impatient and vibrating with emotion as he shakily pushes the ring onto your finger, and you haul him to his feet and launch yourself into his arms, almost knocking him over.

“Ooof!” he exclaims as you partially knock the wind out of him, but he rallies, and you share sweet kisses.

“How much do you love this view?” he queries when you finally part and slip back to your feet.

“I love it as much today as I did that day,” you sigh dreamily.

“Something you would perhaps like to look at frequently?” his voice uncertain, seemingly hedging.

“Of course… why?”

“I may have done something… a little rash,” he admits.

“What?” you frown.

“So the owner of this land doesn't mind the oak being carved because… well… that owner is me.”

And your jaw drops for a second time.

“Benedict…” all other words fail.

“And you too now, of course; what's mine is yours.” He points to a far-off spot at the end of the slope. “That hedge down there? As far as that is ours. I brought this whole field from the farmer, and umm, I’m in the process of applying for planning permission to build a home right here. For us. This view will be our back garden. Right next to this very special tree,” he concludes, tapping the sturdy trunk with his knuckles.

“You utter romantic idiot,” you whisper through blinking tears.

Back in his arms this time, you tumble to the ground, rolling in the cool grass under its sheltering might.

“One electric night changes it all, doesn’t it?” he whispers.

You couldn't agree more.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

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incorrectfmaquotes · 7 months

Text

Today marks 6 years since I started this blog!

Thank you all for following! Whether you followed back in October 2017 or earlier today, I appreciate every single one of you.

And for some other things I wanna say, which I don't think affects anyone and isn't exactly news, especially to anyone who might be paying attention, but more just me acknowledging it: I haven't really been attending to this blog that much in the past couple of years, but especially this one. I've largely just let the queue run and fill it up with older quotes every couple of months. I made this blog when I was in high school and had more free time; I am now something that somewhat resembles an actual adult (if you squint maybe) with more Adult Responsibilities and Situations (but as I have unfortunately realized, adulthood does not erase feeling teenage emotions all that much). I've had less time and frankly less bandwidth to devote more time to this blog - especially to create quotes at the rate I did the first 3 years. And something that has hindered me even more in attending to this blog and is in part why I started to do so was that starting around 2020, a lot of times, I could not open my inbox, direct messages, or activity page on this site. I don't know if the culprit of that was my browser, my old laptop, or our famously well-functioning website Tumblr, but this would frequently happen and would do so for weeks at a time. I'm not saying this was the only reason why there have been unanswered asks and submissions for years (see above: increasing Adult Situations and the Toll they have taken on me), but that certainly played a heavy hand.

I'm in some new circumstances and over the past couple weeks, they have been a bit more stable and consistent - I've actually made about 85 new incorrect quotes and have put them in the queue, an amount I don't think I've been able to manage since the early months of 2020 before quarantine. Opening the inbox and DMs seem to be less of a problem lately, so I've also put in the queue a good amount of those submissions I've had sitting in my inbox for a while and will try to do more, though unfortunately some of the blogs that have submitted quotes have since been deactivated. I'm going to try to answer some asks in the coming days, but again, a lot of these are months and years old, and a part of me feels a bit awkward only just responding now and I'm wondering if it's respectful at all, but I still wanna do it.

That is to say, even though I am in a more manageable situation, I'm not promising that I am now going to attend to this blog like I did in the beginning, or even that much more than I have the past few years. I have learned that circumstances can change with no notice at all. I'm also not saying there's no guarantee that I'll be even less present here or won't stop running this blog altogether when the current queue runs out - not that I'm planning on it, but I can't completely rule that out as a possibility. But even if I ever stop attending to this blog, I don't think I'll ever delete it altogether, if you're worried about that.

So, thank you for sticking around with this blog for the past 6 years! And for sticking with this post that got a lot longer than I thought it would be. This post probably sounds like a whole lot of nothing, but I still wanted to say it, and I thank you for putting up with it. Hope you have a good day! 💕💕💕

#rosie speaks #not fma

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starlightts-posts · 1 year

Text

Neteyam x avatar!reader

part 2 :))

genre: fluff

part 1 part 3

a/n: i have no clue what to add to part 1, but here you go!

When Lo'ak suggested that you should try and experience the adrenaline of riding an Ikran, the vibrant blue color got drained from your face. You admired the creature, no doubt in that, but the thought of being among the clouds frightened you, especially if it meant having Lo'ak as the escort.

"No," you push yourself through the doorway of your bedroom, passing the youngest son of Toruk Makto with a full box of Norm's paperwork in your arms. "I am not stepping out of this laboratory to fly a banshee, especially if it means you get to skip your sparring match with Neteyam."

"Come on," Lo'ak rolls his eyes and skips after you, dodging the 'happy birthday' sign that Max insisted Norm hangs above your bedroom door the day prior with a quick bend. You place the box down on Norm's precisely clean desk with a huff, your best friend stealing a peek over your shoulder at the statistics with a frown. "It'll be fun! Definitely much more of a fun than this.." he points to the papers, "mess."

You pinch the bridge of your nose and turn to face the blue-skinned boy with a sigh. "Lo'ak-"

"Don't be a wuss," you send a scowl his way. He brings his hands up in surrender, the corners of his mouth curving into a weak smirk. Lo'ak knows how to hit the nerve of yours. "Flying an Ikran is our tradition. If you wanna fit in, you need to do it." you walk away from him with an annoyed groan. "Besides, i'm gonna be there with you!" Lo'ak calls after you, chuckling when he receives a whine in return from the hallway.

---

"I hate you," you breathe out, knees weakening and heartbeat speeding up. You are currently sitting cross-legged on the upper chamber of the Hometree, hands tied behind your back.

When you noticed a note on your door in the morning from Norm that reminded you of his and Max's quick trip to collect more examples from Pandora's flora, you used their absence to sneak out in your avatar and wander around the forest, unaware of the pair of yellow eyes watching your every move.

"I wanna pluck your eyes out right now," you state with a threatening tone when Lo'ak approaches you with his Ikran. You pull your knees to your chest as they stop in front of your shivering figure, clearly amused by your reaction. "I thought you said you and Neteyam have a sparring match in the morning."

Lo'ak pats the side of his banshee before he kneels beside you, excitement present in his gaze. "We do," he nods as his hands travel to your tied ones. He frees them but immediately traps them in his, knowing you will try to escape any minute if he doesn't. "I'm just not going to show up."

"That's awful," you voice your opinion about the situation and let the Na'vi push you forward. Your chest tightens when the two of you reach the Ikran, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Lo'ak, please.."

Your best friend places one of his hands on your shoulder while the other finds its way on his banshee and begins to caress her skin affectionately. "Do you trust me?" he locks his eyes on the back of your head and notices the hairstyle change, which probably is from Kiri and Tuk.

"I do," you swallow hard when his Ikran slightly rubs her head against the back of your shaking hand, not noticing Lo'ak connecting his queue to hers. "I do trust you."

"Good," he grasps your waist and lifts you up with ease, putting you on the creature. Unintentionally, you swing one of your legs over to the other side of his colorful Ikran, heartbeat increasing when she releases a screech. Lo'ak positions himself in front of you and finds a steady grip on the banshee while you wrap your arms around his waist. "Ready?"

"No-" with a whistle, the Ikran runs to the edge of the upper chamber and you bury your scrunched face in Lo'ak's shoulder. "I hate you!"

The beginning of the unpleasant flight is mostly filled with gliding and slow pace, but after Lo'ak notices the lack of your screams and swears, he starts to mess around with the speed and adds some tricks to spice it up.

"It isn't that bad, is it?" he glances over his shoulder at you, chuckling. You slap his shoulder-blade in disagreement. When your hand meets his vibrant blue skin, Lo'ak takes a sharp turn to dodge a floating island he didn't notice before he dedicated his attention to you. The sudden change accompanies the pressure of the wind around you, pushing your side. Your fingertips brush Lo'ak's bicep as you fall off his Ikran, eyes widening. "Shit!"

A panicked shout of your best friend's name scratches the inside of your throat and strikes Lo'ak with guilt and fear. His Ikran senses the enormous amount of panic and dives after you.

Your falling avatar is caught by a strong pair of arms, saved from a harsh fall and possible death. You catch your breath as Lo'ak stops next to your savior, relief present in his gaze.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Neteyam pulls your shaking figure to his chest and glares at his irresponsible brother. Your arm sneaks behind his shoulders while his lecture continues to pass through your ringing ears.

"I didn't expect them to fall!" Lo'ak tries to defend himself, unable to absorb the situation. Neteyam scoffs and adjusts your position in his embrace, encouraging you to spread your legs and make yourself comfortable - promising he has a secure grip on you and that you're allowed to move. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

"It's okay-"

"No, it's not," Neteyam cuts you off and points to his younger brother, ears pulled back. He clicks his tongue, "You're so fucking lucky they aren't injured. If they were, you would be headless."

Lo'ak lowers his head in shame as you lean backwards, your savior's breath hitching when your back is fully pressed against his chest. To say you are intimidated is an understatement. Neteyam doesn't curse often, hell, he doesn't curse at all because he wants to live up to his father's expectations, but when your health and safety is involved, he isn't afraid to break the rules.

"Go home," The Olo'etykan-in-training commands, fighting the urge to beat some sense into his brother. "And help Kiri with the preparations for the ceremony." Lo'ak opens his mouth to protest, but with one quick raise of Neteyam's eyebrows he doesn't waste a second and swallows his words.

"Again," The younger son makes eye contact with you and scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm sorry." you send him a nod of forgiveness and assure him that you are going to be okay with a soft smile. With a stern look piercing through his skull, Lo'ak disappears in the clouds above you.

Neteyam places his forehead on the nape of your neck and sighs with relief. "You okay?" he hums, his lips brushing against your skin which sends goosebumps down your spine. Your hand travels to his knee and leaves gentle rubs on top of it as he shifts in his spot behind you.

"You scared the hell out of me," he confesses and pats the side of his Ikran, tightening his grip around your waist. You chuckle under your breath, pressing your back to his chest when the banshee begins to move forward. "Thank you, Eywa, for the sickening feeling I got when Lo'ak didn't show up to the sparring match."

"Thank you, Eywa, for sending this brave warrior to save me."

Neteyam slaps your thigh gently and presses a sweet kiss on the back of your head, chuckling. "Shut it."

#neteyam x reader #avatar imagine #neteyam imagine #neteyam #avatar

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five-bi-five-mind · 1 year

Note

JJ gets a taste of what it’s like to have reader in charge(😉🌶️), and it’s safe to say that she’s kind of liking it.

Let Me Help

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 2.5k+

Genre: Smut & a bit of fluff

Summary: You always knew JJ's moods the moment she comes from home for work and you always know exactly how to fix them. This time, when JJ comes home stressed you try something knew, but you have a good feeling it's just what she needs.

Warnings: Shower sex; fingering (JJ receiving & r receiving); oral (JJ receiving); top!reader, bottom!JJ but also a switch vibe for both of them. Oh also a little bit of JJ begging ;)

A/N: So I'm not entirely sure if this is what you're looking for but this is what you all got <3 Enjoy some shameless smut!!

(gif not mine; credit to sapphicprentiss)

“Tough day?” You looked up from where you were perched on the couch.

The answer was easy to guess. You heard the way JJ huffed the minute she closed the door behind her. Her footsteps falling heavy as she trudged through the house.

You were good at picking up queues from JJ to know what kind of day it was. If she slammed the door even just slightly, she was coming home angry from work. If she tried to be as quiet as possible, it was a good day and she was trying to surprise you with a treat. You always heard her coming though. Finally, if she came home with a heavy sigh, you knew it was a day full of stress and disappointment.

Closing your laptop, you followed the sound of her footsteps until you found JJ stopped in the bedroom. She gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite hide the exhaustion in her eyes. “Yeah,” JJ sighed. “You could say that.” That was all you needed to confirm what you already knew. Today was full of stress, the kind that was filled with dead ends in cases and red tape slowing down important processes. You knew exactly how the day went for your wife, and you know how tired it made her when she finally was able to come home.

JJ began to move around the room, dead on her feet, dragging her body as if she was weighed down with the weight of today’s hardships. You hated seeing her like this, both tense and defeated at the same time. Often, you wished she would find a new job. One that didn’t affect her so deeply most days of the week when she walked through the door. But you would never tell her to quit, never stand in her way. And you also knew she wouldn’t ever easily let go of her position at the BAU either. So instead, to help ease your wife and your own mind, you paid attention to your wife’s mood and learned exactly how to respond to each and every one of them.

So when you watched JJ start to peel off her pants and walk toward the bathroom, you were quick to follow. Luckily for her, you knew exactly what her next move was and what yours should be too. On days like these JJ would head straight for the shower to wash off every ounce of negativity from the day. Only today, you could tell by JJ’s tone and short response, that she could use a little extra help. It was time for you to try something a little new, a new tactic that you were pretty sure would help.

JJ didn’t even notice you follow behind her, your hands busy pulling off your shirt and bra as you went. When she made it into the bathroom with only her underwear and a plain white tank top left on, she began to shut the door only for you to catch it before it latched. “What are you-“ JJ turned around curiously as you pulled the door back open.

“I thought maybe I could join,” You gave her a cheeky smile. Her eyes went from your eyes and then flicked down your body, finally realizing you were half dressed as you stood in front of her.

For the first time since she walked in the door, her eyes lit up and a coy smile graced her lips. “Oh.” JJ stepped aside and gestured for you to join her in the bathroom. “Be my guest.”

The moment you were both in the bathroom, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your wife as she finally stripped completely and began to fiddle with the shower faucet for the perfect temperature.

Despite how exhausted your wife was and how much you wanted to make this evening about her, it didn’t stop you from taking in her entire body. Every toned muscle, the slight curve of her waist, the way her skin looked impeccable and incredibly soft. All you wanted was her body on top of yours, but that would have to wait. Right now, you wanted to take care of JJ, wanted to help her relax a little and let go of all the tension she held onto still from today.

JJ stepped in once she was pleased with the water temperature and you stripped yourself of the rest of your clothes. Following quickly behind, you slid the shower door shut and joined your wife under the running water. You could tell she was enjoying the view of your body just as much as you were of hers. Her eyes were having a little bit of a hard time staying on your face, constantly flicking down to take in your naked form. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw the exhaustion leave JJ’s eyes already and become replaced with an entirely different emotion.

JJ tore her eyes from your body after a long moment of the two of you just staring at each other. Turning around she reached for her bottle of body wash and turned back to you. Popping the bottle open, JJ ran her eyes down your body once more and you knew immediately what was running through her head.

“Let me-“ She began to say.

“No, let me.” You cut her off, snatching the bottle from her hands. JJ was surprised for a moment, but when you already began pouring out some of her body wash onto your hands, she was eager to agree. The thought of your hands all over her, washing away the tension for her, had her easily agreeable to almost anything.

You stepped up to JJ, barely any space left between both your now wet, naked bodies. JJ’s eyes were glued to your face, but yours were focused on her body as you started to lather her with soap from her shoulders and ever so slowly moved down to her chest.

Your hands moved at a snail’s pace as you coated her skin with the body wash. Trailing both your hands down until your palms finally covered both her breasts, you glanced up to see JJ’s eyes were now locked onto every move your hands made. With a slight, teasing squeeze, you let your fingers trail over her nipples before moving down even more until your hands were pressed to her abdomen.

JJ was breathing heavy at this point, pupils blown with desire as you essentially felt her up the entire time you were washing her. There were other nights where she’d come home and you’d distract her from her stress or tension, but even JJ noticed that this was a little bit new behavior for you. You were leading tonight and, surprisingly, JJ thought it was exactly what she needed after the type of day she had. Of course, you knew exactly what you were doing. Maybe this was a new method you were trying to help your wife relax, but you also knew your wife very well and you were very confident this is exactly what she needed to let go of all the stress she held onto.

And for the most part, it was working wonders. JJ had forgotten all about her day, all about everything honestly. All she was thinking about was you and the devilish grin that graced your lips when she shivered the moment your body slid down with your hands as you washed her thighs. One thing JJ wasn’t expecting to see today was her wife on her knees in the shower, hands slowly creeping up her inner thighs as you washed her. Not that JJ was complaining. She didn’t even complain when her back hit the cold shower wall. She gladly obeyed when you nudged her hips until she was leaning back for support while you slightly spread her legs. JJ was honestly already pretty far gone the moment she saw your naked body in front of her, but it did a little something extra to her when she glanced down to see you looking up at her as your hands massaged her thighs.

“Can you…” JJ was at a loss for words. What did she want you to do exactly? She wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she needed you to touch her where she wanted you to and she needed you to do it now.

“Can I…?” You trailed off, waiting for her to finish, your hands stilling on her thighs.

JJ just huffed in frustration, knowing she probably seemed like a pathetic mess but still didn’t necessarily appreciate your teasing. She was also so fucking thankful you were doing all of this in the shower, otherwise she might be slightly embarrassed by how wet she was sure to be from the sight of you on your knees.

“Just touch me,” JJ pouted. You didn’t move for a moment and her hand flew to your head, pushing you slightly so your face was closer to right where she wanted it. “Please,” she practically whines and you didn’t think you'd ever heard your wife so desperate.

All you did was chuckle, thoroughly enjoying the way JJ was already squirming where she stood. “Well since you asked so nicely,” You teased before encouraging her to spread her legs just a little more.

You took her in for a moment, watching the way her skin jumped the moment your fingers traced higher up her thighs. Wanting to take your time, you leaned in and barely ghosted your lips over her slit. However, JJ was growing more impatient by the minute and the slight tug on your hair from where her hand still rested made you smirk for only a moment before finally you made contact with where her body was practically begging you to touch.

The moment your tongue ran from her entrance to her clit you heard her groan above you and heard a soft thud as her head leaned back on the shower wall. JJ’s grip in your wet hair only tightened when you began to repeat that act, slowly running your tongue up again and again until you felt like she had enough teasing. When your tongue began to circle her clit, that was when JJ began to move her hips in time with your mouth, essentially grinding down against your tongue. Chancing a glance down at you was what really did it for JJ though. Seeing your head buried between her legs as you knelt naked and wet before her, with your lips wrapped around her clit was driving her absolutely crazy. It was embarrassing to say, she was already close to coming right then and there, but she wasn’t ready for that yet.

With the hand that was still holding onto your head, she pressed you closer to her for a moment, grinding herself onto your face while you continued to suck on her clit. You could tell by the way JJ’s thighs slightly trembled and the sounds coming from her lips that she was already close, but when JJ was right on that edge, she used her hold to pull you away.

When you broke free from between her legs you didn’t have a moment to catch your breath before JJ was hauling you up onto your feet. Your hands fell to either side of her hips, pressing to the shower wall to steady yourself. With her grip, JJ pulled you to meet her lips in a brief heated kiss before pulling you back again. “I need you,” JJ panted. “I need you inside me.”

With that, JJ finally let go of your hair to take one of your hands that was resting on the wall and moved it to press between her legs again. You didn’t need anymore encouragement before sliding two of your fingers against her clit and all the down to her entrance. In one swift motion, you slid your fingers inside her and reveled in the way JJ moaned out your name the minute she felt your fingers filling her.

You didn’t waste any time in helping JJ get right back to that edge. When JJ leaned back in for another kiss, your fingers began pumping inside her with abandon. You felt JJ’s hands come around your waist to hold onto you and keep you both steady. And with the way her nails dug into your bare skin you knew she was already quickly reapproaching her peak.

This whole thing was driving you crazy as well. Feeling your wife hold onto you for dear life while you fucked her against the shower wall, silent moans falling from her lips against yours. It had you pressing your thighs together for some sort of pleasure too as you continued to make JJ feel good. Luckily for you, it didn’t go unnoticed by JJ, even when she was quickly turned into a moaning mess while you had her pinned to the shower wall.

JJ’s lips broke free from yours once more, but just barely, as she said “I want you to cum with me.” You nodded your head eagerly and took one of her hands from your waist before encouraging JJ to touch you in the exact way you were touching her. With her fingers inside you and your fingers continuing to pump into her, you both set a fast pace. JJ’s head fell back again onto the shower wall and yours buried itself into her neck to muffle the sounds she was drawing from you now too.

Both of you were in sync, grinding against each other’s fingers as you both pushed them inside each other. Your behavior is what was making JJ reach her peak so quickly, but JJ’s loss of control and composure as you touched her is what already had yours fast approaching too. With a few more strokes of your fingers, curling them to hit just the right spot for JJ, you suddenly found her coming around them with a loud moan. You were quick to follow, the feeling of JJ coming on your fingers mixed with the way her fingers were moving inside you pushing you over that edge as well, your moans only muffled by your wife’s neck.

You both stood there for a moment, catching your breath. JJ was still pinned between you and the shower wall, not even remotely bothered by the cool feel of it or the fact that the water wasn’t as warm as it once was, and you were still leaning fully against JJ with your head resting against your shoulder.

“Wow,” JJ finally broke the silence. “I really needed that.” She chuckled and slid her fingers out from inside you, only to rest her hands on either side of your waist. You did the same, pulling your fingers out and placing your hands on JJ’s shoulders, you pulled back to smile at her.

“I know,” you said proudly. JJ just smiled back, her hand going to wipe a damp strand of hair from your face as you looked up at her. JJ was surprised at how light she felt after such a heavy day, but you weren’t. You always knew exactly how to help.

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