#i would often find myself in the morning sleeping with my face smushed between the pages of the book i literally fell asleep on

[anaalnathrakhs]

...i'm starting to wonder if i wasn't actually pretty often failed by the adults in my life as a young kid tbh.

#i'm always doubtful where to put the blame #in a morally neutral causality kind of way to be clear #because like. i dont know. if i was the adult. confronted to the opaque behavior of a child. would i have done better? #but also i can't help but think #why the fuck did they make me skip a grade (last grade of primary on top of that) when i was notorious for never doing my homework #and was incredibly inconsistent across topics #like i sucked at math. like ''needs to count on fingers to do a simple addition or substraction'' sucking at math. #like i never learned any multiplication tables sucking at math #like i never got how to pose divisions and still can't at age 18 because logicomathematics are completely counterintuitive to me #and just. the work was never done to make me Get It. my work or teachers' work who knows. but perhaps skipping a grade wasnt the solution #or like #apparently when i was three years old the pediatrician suspected smth was up with me #either autism directly or ''generally suspicious child'' we're not clear on that #but he told my parents. and everybody said ''we better test that'' and then. nothing. idk. #they filled a parental report of behaviors questionnaire for... adhd i think? autism maybe. and that's it. never fucking heard about it. #god. i just remembered my mom saying proudly they almost never put me in the nursery as a kid. #always either with a parent or family or a nanny. #and perhaps mother. you could have foreseen that a kid with no siblings no pets no kid neighbors no playdates. would end up socially fucked #i remember the teachers scolding late students and showing us that we were supposed to be in bed by 9:30 or something #and internally i was like BUDDY AT 9PM WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH DINNER #MOM'S BEEN HOME FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR #and shit. i don't know. i was scared of the dark as a child. to the point that even with the compromise #of keeping the door ajar and lights in the hallway (which i had to fucking advocate for btw) #i still slept curled up in the bathroom on a towel sometimes when it got too scary #and i would cry and scream before going to bed. i would beg my mom for sleeping pills from a young age. #i would often find myself in the morning sleeping with my face smushed between the pages of the book i literally fell asleep on #because i read until my eyes gave out #and a couple years later when i got a 3ds i'd play at night and if my dad caught me he'd storm into my room and i'd hide under the comforte #and he'd punch a couple times and whisper-yell at me not to do that and go to sleep #it took until i was about 15yo for me to see a sleep specialist

[notcaelum]

in an attempt to cure my writers block, i challenged myself to write ~1k about the first topic that i could get more than a paragraph out of, so here’s 961 words about ian and mickey’s sleeping habits that aren’t good enough for ao3

---

Mickey remembers the first time he and Ian shared a bed. It was the night of their sleepover, and Ian had rolled over onto his side after they fucked and immediately started blinking sleepily. Mickey had tapped his face and teased him, because that was about as far as he could go in terms of affection at that moment, but otherwise, he’d left Ian alone, knowing that he probably hadn’t been sleeping soundly in that group home. It was terrifying, having a boy in his bed, but Mickey had slept well, too, comforted by Ian’s warmth and steady breathing next to him.

It’s normal now, sleeping next to his husband. Mickey likes the way things have been recently, even if things are on the west side for the foreseeable future, at least until the lease is up.They get their dose of chaos and danger throughout the day, running weed and large amounts of cash across the city. They carry guns and are forced to be vigilant so they don’t get robbed by Mickey’s fucking cousins again. They get cops riding behind the stolen ambulance they haven’t replaced yet, and their hearts race until they lose the guy and get to their destination, and at the end of the day, they get a pretty damn good paycheck and go home, where things are safe.

At their apartment, no one’s ever picked the lock or broken the living room window with a brick. No one’s ever bled on their kitchen floor. No one’s been smacked around for making a small mistake. There are no holes in the walls from bullets or angry family members.

One of Mickey’s favorite things about their lives as they are now is that he gets to share a bed with his husband every single night without fail.Their evenings have a bit of a routine now. It’s mostly for Ian, but Mickey finds that he actually likes knowing exactly what’s gonna happen for a few hours each day.

Once or twice a week, they’ll have dinner at the Gallagher house, where everyone else is still living. On other nights, one or both of them will make dinner, and they’ll watch a cooking show that Ian likes, or a movie Mickey wants to see, or a couple episodes of a series they missed out on when they were locked up, and they’ll usually be in bed by 10pm, because the meds Ian takes after dinner make him sleepy, and Mickey doesn’t see the point of staying up and being on an entirely different schedule than Ian.

They watch action movies in bed now, ever since Ian randomly woke up and saw Mickey watching police chases on youtube to help him fall asleep. The crashes and yelling and sirens remind him of home, and he sleeps much easier than he does when it’s silent.

Ian likes to lay half on top of Mickey a lot of the time. He always says he’s just getting comfy and making sure Mickey’s the one that’s facing the TV so he can see what’s going on, but he also says, every night, that he’ll move to his own side when he starts falling asleep, and every night, without fail, he’s asleep and drooling on Mickey’s chest no more that five minutes after saying that. Mickey would bet on it any night of the week, because it’s that consistent.

Really, though, he doesn’t mind. He loves Ian. He loves holding and being held by Ian, and they sort of get the best of both worlds this way. He likes to brush the hair out of Ian’s face when he lays down, and he likes to twist any rouge, curly bits around his finger to irritate his husband. Ian likes to put his hand up Mickey’s shirt and softly stroke his chest, stomach, or hip to help him relax. Every so often, he’ll accidentally hit a ticklish spot, and Mickey will jump, and if Ian laughs, Mickey sticks a finger in his open mouth when he has his eyes closed to get him back without jostling him so much that it makes it harder for him to fall asleep.

Sometimes, when Ian’s almost asleep, he turns onto his stomach and slides one of his legs between Mickey’s, smushing his face even closer to Mickey’s chest and neck. It feels even more intimate, having their whole bodies pressed together for no reason other than comfort while they sleep. Sure they can feel each other’s morning wood this way, but they don’t worry about that until they wake up.

Ian doesn’t really snore, thankfully. He claims that Mickey does, loudly, but Mickey will believe that when he sees proof. Ian does talk in his sleep, though. He once told Mickey about his plan to make sure his garden thrived once it was warm enough to plant, and he’s told a couple blackmail-worthy stories about Lip that Mickey’s waiting on an opportunity to use. It’s usually incoherent mumbling or small, breathy laughs, though, which might be one of Mickey’s favorite things in the world. It helps him sleep sometimes, especially on rough nights when the bad memories won’t leave him the fuck alone. Ian looks so beautiful when he’s relaxed, and seeing him so happy, even subconsciously, makes Mickey feel great about where their lives are at.

Adjusting to fully laying down without disturbing Ian isn’t difficult. He sleeps like a damn baby on their new cloud bed and the fancy-as-fuck pillows that came with it. Not that Ian uses those, not with Mickey’s chest right there.Mickey acts irritated sometimes, but he’s not, and he’s sure Ian knows that. He loves having his husband’s weight on top of him, anchoring him as he falls asleep every night.

#gallavich #mine #this isn't very good but whatever #hopefully it helps me get back to writing actual fics

[singeramg]

Congratulations on your 500 followers! I would like to make a request for 9 .“Just don’t break anything…again!” with Henry. Thank you!

Hey world! Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA when it comes to writing, or at least posting! Don’t worry continuations of my WIP’s are coming but I also wanted to challenge myself to break my mold of writing and try to have a little fun. Also I wanted to show my appreciation of all of you and your support of what I do!

So to anon this is something from my Fluff! Henry collection! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun with it!

Title: Lava and Kids Don’t Mix

Characters: Dad!Henry Cavill x Female Reader

Prompt: “Just Don’t Break Anything...Again!”

Rating: G!

Warning: None, just fluff, mention of injury, and a slightly broody Cavill man.

MasterList for more fun!

Henry Cavill was in a panic. 

You only had one rule before you left to spend the day with his mother. Leaving him in charge of your two 5 year old  twin boys Mitchell and Michael for the day. He was supposed to keep it simple, take the boys to the park with Kal and your 2 year old Jack Terrier Russell Sandy. You knew the boys would run off all access energy at the park and after they ate the soup and sandwiches you made for all of them before you left, they would down for their nap, and you would be home and starting dinner just after they woke up.

Simple plan right?

Right?

Wrong.

Needless to say things didn’t anyways go to plan in the Cavill household when dealing with two rambunctious twins that looked and acted like their father and two dogs, and also an unexpected rainstorm that shortened the park trip that saw the Cavill men playing the floor is lava, while Henry warmed up the soup in the kitchen. Ignoring the roughhousing like he tended to do when you weren’t around because he grew up with four brothers and “boys will be boys.” Of course Mitchell managed to miss the couch cushions he was supposed to land on, and landed on his left arm and on top of his brother. The subsequent scream of pain sent Henry flying from the kitchen, and to his horror found two crying kids on the floor. One holding his arm hollering and the other reeling from his brother landing halfway on him, therefore he was crying too. Henry runs back to the stove switching it off and then running back over to his children which now had a dog sniffing at their faces. Henry picks up Michael first sitting him on the couch and his whimpers are already settling down but Mitchell was still hollering and holding his arm.

“Oh no.”

Henry picks up Michell off the floor who curls into his father's side.

“Mitchell can I see your arm?”

Slowly; the still whimpering child lifts his arm, and the second Henry delicately touches the arm, it sends Mitchell into a scream of pain and fresh tears.

Oh dear.

He notes the boy’s arm has begun to swell and is awfully red. He carries him into the kitchen and puts a ice pack on it and knows he is going to have to take him to the hospital.

In the biggest rush known to man he gathers the twins and puts an SOS to you. Tossing things around the house until he located his wallet, and keys, just avoiding a vase on the table, that you loved. His son hollers louder held in his arms.

You were going to kill him.

You literally left the house with a  “ Just don’t break anything again” as a joke but now it looked like it was coming true...

*Hospital*

The small group was ushered back fairly quickly into a room and for once Henry was slightly glad of his celebrity when it came to his family. He often was irritated when he found intrusive photographs of his family plastered all over the web but this time one look at his license had gotten them into a private room and waiting for Mitch to come back from X-rays. He had called you on the way to the hospital, but you didn’t answer so he left a message and tried his mother with the same result. He had tried a few times but he knew coverage could be spotty and he wasn’t exactly sure of what his mother planned for you. He knew you would feel terrible about not answering not to mention he hated putting you through undo stress because you were carrying the third child of the Cavill brood. That had been the only reason you even went today was to get a breather without a five year old pulling at your skirts, especially since he had just gotten back from filming just over a week ago.

Yep. You just might kill him…

At least he thought. He always worried as a father about his children and where you were concerned he wanted to be everything he couldn’t be when he was away filming. You were such a wonderful mother and he just wanted to match what you did for the family. This was not it.

 Mike is sleepily resting on Henry’s arm as his brief stint with crying had left him knackered. Henry happens to look down at the arm that Mitchell landed on and noticed he is starting to bruise over his arm. Henry is just beginning to look over his sons arm for the extent of the damage when simultaneously while he was touching Mike’s forearm ; there is a similar spot to his brother’s just on the opposite arm that is red and swollen and soon as he touches it gently, Mike cries out; waking up from his sleep, and also you walk in the door.

Alarmed to find one of her sons crying. Mike notices you almost instantly, crying and running over to you.

“Oh my little man what’s the matter?”

“Daddy hurt my arm!” The young boy calls out and wants the comfort of your arms but of course you couldn’t lift him. Normally you would get onto him about that, but that could be saved for later. Besides he was child so his thoughts would be more literal meaning that Henry must have touched his arm or something. 

You lean down as best you could with your 6 month stomach which was reaching the point of cumbersome, but not making you totally immobile as it did with the twins at this point, squatting so you are eye level with him and he wraps himself around you, letting you gently lift his arm. He starts hollering at your slight touch coming further into the room with his mother and father close behind.

You only had one rule really when you left the house this morning and that was for Henry not to break anything...again! However considering you had known whatever happened in your way here, this was a mistake.

The last time you left them alone for an extended amount of time the TV had been broken during a game of catch that you had already told them not to play in the house the night before you went out for the Bridal Shower.

Needless to say you hadn’t been happy with the situation at the time and it was a material thing that could be replaced. Now here you were coming to a hospital cradling one child while the other...wait...where was Mitchell?

“Daddy hurt your arm? I think that may not be the whole truth but it’s okay we can deal with it later. Okay well let’s see if we can get a really nice doctor to take a look at it and I’ll talk to Daddy.”

You say comforting him and pretending to be mad at Henry who honestly already looks wrecked about whatever had happened between the time that you left and now. You press the call button and someone comes in almost immediately which notoriously did not happen; but you weren’t complaining. You asked for them to take a look at Mike as well. They agreed without much problem and after creating a little band for his wrist they agreed to X-ray him and gave him something for his pain.

You waddle over to the chair next to Henry who actually picks up Mike and lets him sit on his lap. He says his hellos to his parents who know the look of exhaustion and being resigned to fate way too well. They take seats as well.

“So where’s the other half of our set?”

You mildly joke.

“He should be back any moment; they’ve taken him to get an X-Ray.”

At that moment a wheel chair appears with a sleepy child in it, his blue eyes drifting in and out of lucidness.

“Moooommmmmmy!!!!”

He says but his voice is dragging indicating they had given him something to ease the pain. You let the nurse help him into bed and go over to him while Henry’s parents take over for comforting Mike.

“Hi baby. How’s your arm?”

“It was hurt-ed momma but it’s not anymore. I feels weird. I sleepy.”

You push back his riotous, dark curls with a soft hand.

“Okay baby go to sleep; Daddy and mommy will be here when you wake up.”

He drifts off and the nurse comes to take Mike for his X-Ray and with the alert child gone; a worried grandfather in tow to watch over him and the other sleeping, you sit back down with a sore back and a smile.

“So what really happened in the couple of hours I was gone.”

Henry looks sheepish; and rubs the back of his neck., his natural curls smushing under his fingers.

“Well we went to the park, but the rain washed us out earlier than intended. So we went back to the house and I cut on a movie, but the boys were playing and the floor was lava and the next thing I heard was a scream...”

“Wait...’the floor is lava’?”

“Yes. Our floors are made of lava and seeing as you can’t touch lava it meant jumping around while I warmed up lunch.”

You sigh but one look at the giant puppy that was your husband, you knew he honestly couldn’t feel any worse than what was happening right now. You were just glad no one had head injuries or irreversible damage. You absently rub your stomach and place a hand on a broad shoulder.

“I feel terrible Y/N. I didn’t think a little rough housing would come to this. My brothers and I had injuries but it was usually from tossing each other around and Rugby. Somehow we managed to avoid the hospital due to our roughhousing.”

You sit up and kiss your husband on the cheek. Henry was an internalizer, so you knew if he looked this upset right now then he felt 100 times worse inside.

“Things happen baby it will be okay. If it makes you feel any better they would have created an even more perilous game. They like to invent new ways to make me tear out my hair.”

The room laughs;

“They don’t normally end up in the emergency room when they are with you...or do they?”

He asks and you laugh shaking your head.

“No, but I’ve had a few close calls that made me question whose bright idea was it to have multiple children at the same time. They can be a handful individually. Babe, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

You rub at his shoulder as a comfort. Henry accepts it and caresses the top with his own. Soon Mike is in a similar state as his brother and they got him in a bed next to him. With both of them unconscious the doctor comes back in with X-ray reports that says both of them have a broken arm.

You sigh and Henry looks devastated and you only shake your head knowing the twins never did anything by the half’s nor did they ever do anything alone.

“I guess the Cavill men don’t do anything by the half huh. I asked all of them not to break anything and they managed it times two.”

A/N: This was meant to be fluff about a peak in the life of Henry Cavill with Children. 

More celebration prompt fics will be posted when I wake up in the am because after work today I just do not have it in me to edit anything else tonight, but I hope you enjoyed this for what it is.

TAGLIST: (OPEN)

Henry tag list

@msblkfire84 @magdelen69 @peeyewpeeyew @agniavateira @fcgrizi @diehadess @mary-ann84 @snowbellexx @tearsontape13 @tvdplusriverdale @p3nny4urth0ught5 @laxgirl1799 @crazymexicanfangirl @iloveyouyen @oddduckthatgirl @pinkcollectorparadiseblr @sweetybuzz25 @normatural

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill x reader #500 follower celebration #anon ask #dad!cavill #au henry cavill fanfiction

[ajokeformur-ray]

Dracika headcanons ~ 🖤🦇

Y E S, I’m back on my bullshit (like I ever stopped😂) and this is me feeling my way with Dracula and seeing what he and I have together; as well as sharing some moments we’ve already had with each other in the time we’ve known each other.

Full disclosure: I am well aware that he would snap my neck and drink me like a capri sun in reality without a second thought. I know that we are 100% incompatible but I really don’t care. Believing that Drac would be, at least, fond of me makes me go 🥺😭🥺😭💖✨💖✨🥰💖✨ so that’s all that matters skskskskks. I’m so sorry if anyone’s sick of this, I really do understand, but I like to have all my self-shipping stuff on the same blog, which is why I’m posting it here and not on my side blog (on which requests for him are open👀).

Word count: 2, 421.

OMG MY UWUS ARE DROPPED I’M SOFT I’M CRY I’M LOVE 🥺😭🥺😭💜💜💜 LOOK AT HIMMMMM ~ 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I legitimately can’t stop staring I’m captivated someone help but also leave me here... I’m suffering but I’m enjoying it... 🥺

As yet, Dracula and I haven’t spent too much time together. We’re still very much wondering what’s going on and why it’s going on and how everything is going to work. All we’re really aware of at this stage is that, for some reason, we’re drawn to each other. We’ve mostly just been... watching each other and getting to know one another through observation and gut instinct rather than... sitting down and talking. I think this is how it will be for the most part with us, though. We’re an odd dynamic but the both of us are quickly growing to like it.

He and I don’t spend much... time together, at least not yet as I’ve already said, but we spend a lot of time in the same room. I’ll do my thing and he will do his thing and occasionally one of us will glance over at the other. Quizzical looks are exchanged and Drac may ask if I’m all right, but other than that, we don’t talk, either. We’ve been silent company to one another for much of this time. I think that may be the main part of our dynamic - comfortable silence. I don’t really know what to say to a five hundred year old vampire because I don’t want to make my stupidity as a person with a lack of life experience obvious and Drac prefers to not talk at all when he’s busy doing something. He very clearly expresses his irritation at this through his body language and I’m not so good at handling when people are annoyed at me so I’d just rather not speak unless I have to.

When I go to bed, I always ask Drac to join me. He could come into my bed without an invitation, but as he puts it, “consent is unnecessary but delicious” so he waits for me to ask him. It never takes me long and tbh I’m not fully comfortable going to bed, especially with my night time phobias, without him there in the room with me anyway. As soon as I’m lying down and comfortable, Drac’s standing at the foot of my bed. He’ll crawl up my mattress (my bed’s against the wall so when I’m already in bed he has no other way of coming in unless he wants to climb over me and that’s too graceless for him) and I’ll pull the covers back for him. He slides in so quickly that my very squeaky mattress (it’s in desperate need of being replacing but I can’t afford it) doesn’t make any kind of noise. “Oh, bedtime for the human, is it?" My only answer is to turn and nestle my face into his chest. He wraps his arms around me and sleep finds me quickly. If I try to look around the room, he’ll hold my head where it is with a hand and he won’t let me look. He reasons the more I look, the more scared I’ll become, so he’d rather prevent me from looking at all. He’s the most dangerous creature in any room, anyway.

During the day, Drac sleeps so, of course, I’m left alone. He lays down with me when I go to bed and he leaves when I’m finally asleep (700 position changes and a deal with Satan later😂), but when I get up, he’s beside me and now I’m the one leaving when he’s finally asleep. I sleep when I’m tired and I don’t have much of a sleeping schedule so it’s not unusual for me to be up until four or sometimes five in the morning, and a bonus to this is that I get to spend more time with him. The nights are just for us; when the world slips away, he and I find each other.

When I’m away from Drac and I’m missing him or just needing his energy around me, I wear this jumper. It’s a small inside joke between us.

Drac’s reaction to my jumper was:

He appreciates the way it’s spelt (and so do I) and he’s been eager to get me out of it.👀

Drac is 6′4 and I’m 5′7 so the height difference is... amusing. At least to him. He calls me his “little bat” when I’m going to sleep or when I’m being cuddly (a luxury he doesn’t allow often; it’s usually saved for when I’m in some kind of distress), and when he’s feeling romantic or apologetic, he calls me “luna bella”.

He and I go on nightly walks down the beach together. I love to walk along the three metre high wall so I can properly feel the wind in my hair and some semblance of freedom, and if I lose my balance, he’ll just chuckle and tell me to be careful. Not in as many words but he’ll make a quip about the fragility of mortals and it sends the message through. If I do fall, he’ll catch me before I do. All of me is safe with Count Dracula. He likes to say he won’t catch me but I pretended to slip properly once just to see what he would do and he reacted very quickly so I think it’s safe to say he’s full of shit.😂

I got very attached to him, very quickly once I got over my fear. Even when I’m with him, I miss him, and Drac can always pick up on it. He finds it hilarious and doesn’t understand why I miss him despite our closeness a lot of the time, but there’s no way to explain it. Even so, I know he misses me too, because he’s with me more often than we’re away from each other. Drac has an odd love language but I’m slowly coming to learn him.

The night I realised I wasn’t scared anymore and I wanted him with me, I called him to me. All I had to do was say his name, and he was there. He was obviously in the area and he must have heard me from close by. I was in bed, ready to sleep, and he waited for me to speak. His eyebrows were raised and there was a slight smirk on his face.

“Can you...can you stay with me? I’m not scared of you anymore but I also... don’t really know what to do.”

“You don’t know what to do, so you called me? Are you really not afraid of me?” His smirk kept widening, as did that look in his eye.

I hesitated but I still said, “not anymore.” and I pulled the duvet back on the side which would become his. “Join me?”

“This is a surprise. I did not see this coming.” He could smell my weariness but we didn’t speak much after that point. He laid down beside me and I slowly, carefully moved to cuddle him. And by that I mean I smushed myself into his side and he let me, but he didn’t reciprocate.😅😂

Drac tried to move away just at the point I was on the edge of sleep and I clung to him; I wouldn’t let him leave me. I had to show I trusted him, the way he wanted me to, and I guess falling asleep beside him was the best way to do so.

I kept moving around and it irritated him so eventually he tugged me to lay on top of him... he wrapped his arms around me and held me to him. His cold embrace is the safest cage I’ve ever been in. I woke and he wasn’t there but I could feel his energy around me. He won’t ever leave.

I don’t think he could ever love me, not in the way I love him, but I know he’s very fond of me and that’s enough. The fact that he is with me as often as he is, is proof enough that he, at least, has a soft spot for me.

I show him every day that I love him because I don’t really know how to say it to him. He’s five hundred years old so the usual methods of confession seem a bit... pointless. He needs more than words. I do this in subtle ways... for example, having my hair slung over my shoulder and I’ll lay down on it so my neck is bared. I fall asleep on him. I ask him to be with me while I sleep. He has free-for-all consent to drink from me but as yet, he hasn’t. I suspect it’s because he dislikes coffee...🤔😂

Usually, I lay atop Drac when we cuddle, but there’s been a few times he lays on me. Sometimes I’ll wake in the night and he’s looming over me. My lamp looks like a golden halo around the top of his head, and in my sleepy state I loop my arms around his neck and tug him down. He could so easily break out of my hold but he doesn’t. He lets me tug him down and I snuggle into him and press kisses all over his neck, leaving mock bites. He appreciates the irony.

Dracula calls “darling” or “my love”. He never uses my name; it’s always a term of endearment. I’m not sure why. If he’s telling me to do something, then it’s “dear”; comfort is “darling”, and the other names are as I’ve said.

I only call him “Drac”... “Dracula” if he’s annoying me. “My love” is a general term of endearment; we share a like for that one. Sometimes... and mostly at night (our real time together), I call him “my Drac”. It makes him smile... I don’t get much of a reaction, just a twitch of his lips, but I adore it.

When I’m upset, Drac doesn’t hold me. He doesn’t shush me or try to comfort me. He just... stays. With every passing moment, he takes a step closer until he’s standing right beside me and then he allows me to take whatever comfort I need. He’s not entirely sure how to comfort me, we’re still learning each other, but he follows my lead. As long as he’s in the room, as long as he’s close by, I can usually pull myself together on my own; I’m used to doing that so it saves him the effort. If I talk, he listens. If I don’t talk, he speaks. Whatever I need, he’ll do. He can read me well. I’m still learning him; there’s multiple options to everything he does and says and I love that about him.

With me being afraid of the dark and Drac being afraid of the light, I’d say we’re perfect for each other.😂

And speaking of...

Both of us know and live with fear far more than we should. We have our reasons (which are illogical), and the fear we see in one another is partly why we’re so drawn to each other. I recognise the fear in him (it’s the opposite of my own fear) and he recognises mine. We understand each other on this level and we do what we can to keep each other safe. 

I definitely have a Protecc™ streak for Drac; my blackout curtains are perfect for keeping him safe, and though Drac hates my night light, which makes it daylight in my room, he never wants a repeat of that one night last week so he accepts it. He knows I’m scared sometimes even with the light, so he holds me tight and he won’t let me go. 

Both of us are exposed to our fears every day and both of us face them anyway. We’re brave on our own but together it feels like we only increase that strength.

He’s so cute🥺.

He picks up on how the modern world works through consuming the blood of others’ (which I wilfully turn a blind eye to lmao I’m not about to tell him who he can and can’t eat; my morality has always been grey), but I help him with it too. Sometimes I can’t explain stuff to him so I’ll just show him what I’m talking about. He’s a quick learner. We watch Netflix every night together and sometimes he’ll take Poe or Wilde off my bookshelf and read me to sleep. I love his voice so much.

I love him. He’s safety from my fear in the dark. When I go to bed at night, I always consider sleeping in the dark but he sits on my bed and watches me. “That’s it, turn the light off. You’ll only turn it back on again. That’s what you do, that’s what you always do. What’s the point, darling? Just come lay down a while.”

Dracula is safety and comfort. He’s a smile and laughter because he’s very sassy. There’s something... about him which makes me mentally sleepy. I don’t know how to explain it but he just... makes me want to relax. I do relax when I’m with him and I think that’s why I spend time with him as often as I do, and why I’ve re-watched his series about eleven times in two weeks (to date).

He used to scare me (and he’s been warned that if he ever jumps out at me like he’s known to do to others, he will bring that back temporarily. He’s also been warned not to raise his voice at me, for the same reasons) but now he just makes me feel safe and relaxed and comfortable.

One day, Drac will step into the light and I will step into the dark. And in the space between us where the shadow lies, our hands will join, our fingers will interlock... and we’ll walk forth into what’s next together.

He came into my life at a time when my fear was and is at an all time high, and I think he’s here with me to help me to learn to deal with it. Maybe along the way, I can do the same for him. No one deserves to live in fear and isolation for 500 years, no matter what their dietary requirements are.

I love all of Dracula. I can say that with complete confidence now; I cried out of love for him earlier today and when I sleep tonight, I’ll tell him. Whether he loves me, I have no idea, but I think... I may be someone who’s gotten closer to him than anyone else has for a very long time.

#dracika #self-shipping

[shebitfirst]

Imagine; As previous school day ran late, conspiring of minor inconveniences that dampened your mood when you awake the following day to an afternoon sun; shoving your D.D.D underneath the pillow beside you, continuing to ignore the vibrations of incoming messages and calls- you drift back to sleep, hoping to sleep away this tick of yours. And as if on queue, your bedroom door creaks open. {F!MC/Demon Brothers, Fluffy fluff, Comfort, You had a long day and just need sympathy and affection.} ------------------------- Note I’m having such a bad road block with continuing chapter 2 of our undoing- and been stuck in a low mood lately, so much so that a cup of hot tea and biscuits won’t help me. I wrote this under the covers when it started storming this afternoon. /i did not manage to finish this within a day or let alone a week! Thank you for all the love i’ve received with the on-going series & my previous Summer Imagine- I appreciate the patience, i write incredibly slow in order to perfect and ensure that everything flows additionally, also to enjoy what I write. If you have a request, question, need someone to squeal over your demon with, or a listening ear- send me love letters X --------------------------- Lucifer Seemingly annoyed at the lack of responses he was receiving from you since yesterday evening, he decides to pay a house call. His brothers seem to be keeping to themselves today, or so he hopes. The House Of Lamentation seems suspiciously calm by the time Lucifer walks through the hallway and to the front of your door. Clearing his throat, he gently knocks before excusing himself into your room. You prop up on your elbows, still trying to come out of sleep. “Luci..?” You yawn his name as he removes his gloves and sets it on top your bed side table. “Have you been having late nights, my love?” He sits at the edge of your bed, patting the empty space beside him. A gesture, ordering you forward. You nod, shifting over- “Yes, especially yesterday.. Some days are just not meant for you.” Lucifer crooks a brow, stroking your cheek; Sympathy in his eyes as he looms over you, “I don’t quite understand what you mean, love.” Leaning your head against his shoulders, you sigh- “Bad days, Luci.. Don’t you too, have bad days? It felt as though the sun was never going down and the hands on clocks didn’t move.” Lucifer chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist pulling you close; He does not often resonate with the idea of bad days nor do things often not go his way, but he sees you under the light of your room and how tired your eyes are. “What can I do?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head- voice coated with concern. You shake your head in response, sinking deeper into the embrace. “Nothing..” Your voice cracks. “Anything, my love, I’ll give you anything.. anything at all.” Lucifer’s slender fingers trace along your spine. “If I could provide you a source of comfort.. No request is too big, as long as it leaves you satisfied and out of this.. state.” He smells of musk, a slight scent of leather from constantly wearing his gloves, heartbeat slow and steady as you feel his chest rise and fall against you. “Anything?” You gently reply. Lucifer cups your face in his hands, stroking your cheek; “For you, only you. Anything.” “Mmhm.” You kiss the inside of his palm- “You’ve always been so good to me.. Luci. I sometimes feel undeserving of your treatment.” “Don’t, never be-” He kisses your forehead, tracing down to your lips. “- There is no greater pleasure than seeing you happy.. Especially here with me.” Lucifer said, both hands still grazing your cheek. All you felt was your heartbeat in your chest rising and his breath against your lips. He breaks the silence, swiftly stealing a kiss. “Now now,” “I can confidently say you have not eaten anything for the past 20 hours or so, let us head down to Ristorante Six, I know you always crave for their devil’s food cake.” “As you wish, my lord.” Putting on your shoes and lacing your hands with his. “Are you.. mocking me, my love?” “How dare does one mock the Lucifer!” You tip toe and place a kiss on his cheek. “As you said, Luci.. For me, anything.” -------------------------- Mammon Throwing his D.D.D across the room after calling for the fifth time that morning; The white haired demon has impatiently been awaiting a response but when that call was still left unanswered, “Fine. If ya won’t answer, i’ll just come see ya myself then!” Stumbling out of his room to the front of your room, leaning onto your door frame to try to pick up a sound. “Sheesh.. Is she still sleepin?” He checks his wrist watch. “It’s almost.. 3.. 3pm in the afternoon?! I... How are you even still asleep or not replying my texts?!” Taking a step back, he chuckles and adjusts his brown jacket. Mammon proceeds to knock on the door and call you out. “Yah.. It’s 3pm in the afternoon and ticking!” He knocks louder this time. “Are ya really still gonna sleep in?!” Mammon shakes and continues knocking- maybe considerably pounding against the door. Irritated. You were almost falling asleep till he started aggressively knocking. Swinging open the door to find the white haired demon with his fist in the air. “Yes, Mammon?” You said, cold and stern. The shadows under your eyes reflect the lack of sleep you’ve been having, hopefully he’d take it as a hint to come back after 8 hours when you fully rest. “H-hey... how long do ya plan on sleepin?!” He storms into your room without care and plops himself on your bed. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the growing tick. “I.. have not slept, Mammon. I was getting there.” “Barely.” You whisper. “Yah! What’d ya mean getting there?! It’s 3pm in the afternoon and I was callin you all mornin and I wasn’t even left on read or anything! Where’s ya D.D.D? Did ya lose it?” He starts going through your bed side table and underneath your pillows, rambling on how he’s been waiting for you to respond. “Mammon.” Your voice cuts through his own personal dialogue. He turns holding your D.D.D in hand, stumped by how your eyes are darkened by the shadows beneath and lazily holding yourself up. “Please..”  snatching the device from his hand. You sit at the edge of your bed, scrolling and opening messages. “Hey.. I-i’m sorry, i didn’t know you were so tired. What’s been happenin’ at school? Ya keepin’ up with homework?” His tone softens as he gently wraps an arm around your shoulder. You’re too tired to even shrug him off. “Apart from being exhausted? It felt like the sun was never going to go down.. Like I would not have made it back to my room to sleep.” His grip on you tightens, the smell of his leather jacket and his cologne- Comforting.“Well uh, I’d.. I would tell ya to just throw it all away and head out with me to like, ya know, spend it all away?” He laughs. “Mammon..” “Hey.. It’s okay, I just wish you would’ve told me.. ya know. I could have come runnin’ with a blanket and some sweets!” You shake your head and pinch the space between your brows. “But! I’m here now, let’s make use of me, shall we? Come’here!” He pushes you down against the bed and smushes your face into his chest- “Ya know.. out of all the exchange students.. I ain’t ever got one that I liked ya know! I hope you feel special!” -pasting kisses all over your head. Your hands crept underneath his jacket and around his waist, pulling him closer. “Mmmmhmmmm” “What! I can’t hear ya!” He pulls away to catch a glimpse of your flustered cheeks and tired round eyes. “Nap with me, you moron!” ------------ Satan It’s about the time Satan and you often would catch up on reading, exploring new books from the human realm being delivered to the library. He’s been saving this fictional series for the two of you to read together, excited about this new read. He finishes up his lunch and heads for your room- Noticing that the door was closed, strange. You often left it half open for his convenience. Cooing your name while opening the door, light from the hallway lits up your silhouette; legs dangling off the edge of the bed, hands tucked under the pillow. The squeak of the opened door breaks him out of his thoughts as he brings the books to your desk, leaving a note for when you wake so the two of you could continue your evening together. Stopping at the foot of your bed; you’re sound asleep, tossing and turning. He removes his jacket and rests it upon your chest, taking a seat beside you. “You must’ve been exhausted.. seeing how you’re still asleep long into the afternoon, hm?” Slender fingers stroke loose strands of hair away from your cheeks, tucking them behind your ear. Hot breath against his thumb, he gently squeezes your cheek. “I will see you when you wake.” Gently placing a kiss on your forehead- your eyes peer open from feeling a pair of warm lips in between your brows, “Hi” he hears your sleepy voice beneath him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Shaking your head as you prop up against your elbows- light from the hallway illuminates against Satan’s lean silhouette, his tousled blonde hair longer than what you remembered yesterday. “I wouldn’t want to be woken any other way.” Satan’s brow raises, “Oh? I’ll take note of that.” Setting aside the books in his hands, you scoot closer and lean your head against his shoulder. “Would you care to tell me what has been taking up so much of your sleep? “I’ve.. just had a bad day, thinking I would be able to sleep off most of my mood.” “I see.. Do you wish to continue sleeping? I can come see you a little later-” “No, no.” You stop and grab his wrist, “Please, stay.” “As you wish,” Satan reaches out for the stack of books on your bed, going through various titles till he picks one out. The cover looks familiar, from your childhood. “Let me read to you, hm? I picked this up from the library, it just came today. From the human realm.” He flips through the pages. “I thought we could enjoy this together in the evening but,” He sits himself up and pulls your legs over his, resting you against your bed frame. “I won’t let such a tender moment go to waste.” Pastel hardcover with gothic script, he begins to flip the page. “I remember my mom used to read to me, it’s this exact book. It’s sleeping beauty, a fairytale.” Satan smiles while leaning forward and cups your cheek, “Yes.. It is.” ----------------- Asmodeus “Yoohoo!” Tapping against your bedroom door wakes you, “My loveeeeeeeeee?” You immediately recognise the rhythm in that voice. Pulling your covers over your head, groaning- Even muffled tapping keeps you awake, how long was he going to stand there? Flinging the covers off, you manage to open your door slightly without getting out of bed. “Ah! There you are, you have not responded to any calls, my calls for that matter!” Strolling in, setting his belongings down- it seems as if he was going back to his own room instead of dropping by for a visit. “Asmo.. I-” He’s already grabbing you by the waist pulling you into his lap. “Hmm? You were saying?” You can smell his freshly sprayed perfume- lavender. Snuggling closer against his torso, pulling his arm over your chest. He feels your sigh and short breaths against his wrist. “How are you feeling? Tired I would assume, the shadows under your eyes can’t lie to me, darling.” “I can’t lie to you- Kissing his palm -you know that.” “Yes but.. you haven’t told me what is keeping you up” His slender fingers tilt your chin upwards, his big eyes glancing down towards you. “Hm? Darling, let’s hear it.” You huff, sitting up holding his thighs to balance yourself on his lap. “Yesterday wasn’t the best day for me, nothing went as I would have liked. That’s it. I just, wanted to be by myself for a little.” Humming in response, “Do you feel better now, with me, hm?” Squirming on his lap trying to adjust your dress, his eyes dart up toward you. Fingers move from your thighs up towards your neck. You know that look, the glimmer in his eye and how secure his grip is at the back of your neck. Your cheeks immediately flush at the idea of what he might be thinking. “Yes, slightly better.” Asmodeus immediately sits up and pulls you closer, “Slightly?” You feel his breath against your lips, “How can I make you feel better, darling, hm? Tell me.” Leaning forward, lips grazing againt his- “You already have.. Asmo.” “Let me give you more, darling.” You stare blankly at him, maybe you were just awaiting for him to pounce on you or push you against the bed- but could you tell him that you were simply.. not in the mood? To the avatar of lust? “Asmo.. I..” He giggles, both hands cupping your cheeks. “Darling, don’t give me that face, as much as I’d love to-” He leans back, eyes sweeping over your silhouette in your dim bedroom light. “- Ahem, have you.. Let me take care of you, how about that?” That familiar light and airy tone of his voice in itself comforts you, nodding your head- slowly leaning you against the bed with him by your side, lean arms wrapped around your waist and your head against his chest- rise and fall of slow rhythmic beating. Humming slowly, stroking your hair- slender fingers crawl up and down your back, he feels so warm- you fumble with the buttons of his white linen shirt, “You smell like summer..” Interlacing your hands together. “You are too precious, darling.” “Am i?” “Oh, my love. Are you doubting, me! Yes you are. In all of devildom.. I’m in awe by you, even more than I am with myself! Oooh, you should be so happy!” He pinches your cheek. “I even love you as much as I do myself.. or even more.” You crook a brow, “Is that so?” Chuckling- “My love, please. If you were to ask me to prove my affection for you.. You won’t get much sleep for the rest of today.” “Oh Asmo.. I know. I’m just teasing you.” Placing a kiss against his chest. “Thank you for coming by to see me.” “Don’t thank me, my darling. I should be thanking you, for allowing me to be your place of comfort.” He peeks down at you, eyelids shut and soft snoozes. Placing a kiss against your forehead, “I will be here when you wake up, darling.” ----------------- Leviathan He’s been the number one culprit for blowing up your D.D.D, numerous calls and angry all caps messages from approximately 10am until the sun was at it’s highest. Okay fine, maybe you were preoccupied. But how preoccupied could you be and missing out on his final boss round you promise to sit in for? Sitting around his room tempted to tap on his controller onto the next screen. No no no, this is not how it’s gonna go, he knew he needed you around for a pep talk before going into the battle. “Okay.. maybe one more call? Gah, should i even bother? I know I can take this on by myself! I’ve done this a zillion times, what is this any different!” Flaring his arms in the air- his fingers hover along his controller. “I’ll do it.. I’m gonna do it!”  Clutching the controller tightly- “Ugh” He falls back against the floor. “For hell’s sake, what could you even be up to in this hour?!” Grabbing his jacket and throwing his headphones on, he storms to your room. Approaching your door, he swings open to find you sprawled across your bed- eyes tightly shut, lips lightly parted and your heavy breathing was all he could hear. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed, taken aback by your sleeping form and how he just stormed in unannounced. “S-she.. still asleep?!” He blurted out accidentally, stepping backwards into your night stand- you fuss in your sleep, pulling the covers closer to you. Sighing, “At this rate i’ll wake her up..” Turning to readjust the knocked over trinkets. Worried, paranoid that he’ll wake you up- Leviathan constantly peers over his shoulder in relief to find you out like a light. His hands in his jacket pocket, rolled into fists. “She does look.. so tired, i guess..” Feet turning towards your half cracked opened door, just as he was about to leave- wire of his headphones from his jean pocket gets looped around the door knob, grunting and tugging. The jack releases along with his music. Stirring in your sleep, light from the hallway and music from your bedside wakes you up. “Levi?” Peering from beneath your covers, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You hear the shaking of the door knob, him attempting to untangle his headphone wires. Yawning, “I know it’s you Levi.. I can tell from the back of your head.” “Uhhh..” Embarrassment in his voice, you see him still struggling with the intertwined wire, scooting over to the edge of your bed you excuse yourself from behind him carefully untangle and plugging the jack back into his D.D.D He stands there, red in the face, hiding his expression underneath his purple bangs. “Levi?” Prying and pulling at his sleeve, “Y-you.. were asleep, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to wake you!” His hazel eyes dart across the room, avoiding your gaze. “No no, Levi!” Tugging him backwards as he attempts to leave, “Levi! I had to wake up anyway! Just, stay!” Almost yelling out into the hallway, finally he gives in and shuts your bedroom door. Standing as stiff as ever, “I.. i wasn’t watching you or nothing!” Voice still as ever, shaky and timid. “It’s fine even if you did.” Subconsciously teasing him, flashing him a cheeky grin. “I.. wanted you to be there when i fought the final boss.” “Oh.. Levi, i’m so sorry I overslept..” “But! Did you get all my messages? I left you some messages and calls! I was worried that you were busy with something!” Shaking your head, “No i just, had a really long day yesterday.. You know, the usual.” “Er.” He takes a seat beside you. An obvious gap between you both. “Can i, I mean.” Shuttering. “If you didn’t wanna go back to sleep.. I still haven’t gotten around to the final round ya’know?” Your eyes fixate against the floor, guilty for oversleeping and ignoring most of the messages- feeling the cool fabric of his jacket against your arm, Leviathan closes the gap between you both; “So..” He tucks your hair behind your ears- “Whatcha think? I’ll even let you go for a round! I mean ya never gonna beat MY high score but..” -He places his hand over yours, “You’re my lucky card.” Almost a whisper. “I’ll go.. Only if you let me choose next game we’re gonna play.” Leaning closer. “Hah, Normie wants to play?” You faintly feel his breath against your lips before pulling you out the door. “Let’s play.” -------- Beelzebub Balancing a brown paper bag of freshly baked pastries, a buttered scone hanging from his mouth. His fingers swiftly move along his D.D.D, (I just got some fresh pastries.)   (An entire bag full, let me share some with you.) (I’m heading to your room right now.) The rustling of the doorknob pulls you out of sleep, in a daze you watch as the light from the hallway spills into your room. The scent of butter and bread fills the once stiff air- and along with the scent stands a large figure at your door. Eyes still heavy.. yet, there is only one demon in the entire devildom who would bring a large bag of bread into your bedroom on a random afternoon. Beelzebub steps lightly, not noticing you were half awake, eyes following him in as he continues to chew on the croissant that fills his cheeks. Quietly propping yourself up, he sets the paper bag on your desk, removing individually wrapped pastries and placing them on your desk. You guess he came here for a spot of afternoon tea. Yawning into your white pyjama sleeve, you hear him tear open another plastic wrapper. “Will there be any left for me?” He catches your voice turning to face you, traces of crumbs along his lips and chin. Holding up what seems to be left of a croissant, “Hi, you’re awake.” Walking over to the edge of your bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you but I brought back some of your favourites. I was just going to get some bread but I could smell lemon tarts and I know how much you love them so.. I couldn’t resist getting you some but I was so hungry..” You hear his stomach grumble. “Thank you for the treat, Beel.” Chuckling as you try to make yourself look decent in front of the hungry demon. “Would you like me to help you braid your hair?” You feel the bed sink beside you. “As long as I don’t have crumbs in my hair.” It’s the gentleness Beelzebub carries with him that comforts in stark contrast to his appearance and large built. “I’m surprised to find you sleeping so late, have you eaten anything at all? Your pyjama’s look bigger on you this time.” His eyes trace the back of your neck down to your waist- the curvature of your spine was more prominent than he remembered. “I ate.. last evening, I just wanted to sleep in today.” “What has made you so sleepy? Has Belphie’s habits rubbed off on you?” “Mmhm.. No, not yet.. “ Large and warm hands against your back, slowly gathering sections of hair and smoothing them out. “I just had a long and tiring day yesterday. It just seemed like nothing was going in my favour, that’s all.” You hear low rumbles from his chest as he continues to work with your long hair, “I wish you would’ve told me.” He says softly, tucking the ends of your hair into the braided loop- hands gently draping the braid over your shoulder. “I could have brought you some food..” Turning around, you see his large frame slouching and eyes catching your gaze, he’s frowning. “Beel..” “I know you’re going to say it’s okay. But to me it isn’t, who would I be if I can’t at least try to cheer you up..” His hands cup your cheeks. “At least you’re still warm.” That’s one thing Beel loves about you, you’re always so warm. Even during the harsh winters here. “I always will be.” Kissing the inside of his palm. “How are you feeling now? Do you need more time to rest?” “No.. Beel, I’m fine now. Thank you for stopping by to see me.” “I just don’t want you to feel that you have no one to turn to-” He lifts you to straddle his lap. “When you have me.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, You sigh against his lips- pulling him closer. “I know.. I know. I would never think that way..” “Good girl.” He closes the space in between both of you, warm lips that taste of almonds... and whatever was in that brown paper bag. One arm wraps around your waist to steady you- another hand holds the base of your neck, lightly squeezing it. A low rumble from the demon’s stomach causes you to pull away. “Hungry?” Purple eyes take in the sight of you, you see his eyes trace your body. His mouth curves into a smile. “Always am.” You leap out of bed to gather the remaining pastries in the bag, asking him if he would want to go down to the kitchen for some tea. “Anywhere, with you.” He replies whilst giving you a last kiss on the cheek. ------ Belphegor As tense as you are, you’ve been waking up every other hour. It feels like you saw the sun set and come back up within a few minutes. Sighing into your blankets, eyes heavy but you couldn’t work your way back to sleep. Maybe you weren’t cool enough to fall asleep during this summer heat, even down to your thinnest nightie- It didn’t seem to do the trick. Remembering reading somewhere about a military sleeping method that humans used to use for soldiers to fall asleep within 2 minutes, but 30 minutes go by without a wink or even the feeling of fleeting in and out of sleep. You’ve switched positions around four times, you’ve grown restless- wanting to retreat to your medicine cabinet knowing fairly well that two pills could easily throw you back into slumber. You can hear the voices of various demons in your head advising otherwise. But, oh god, of course. You knew exactly who could easily coax you to sleep. Luckily, your D.D.D has been swamped with various messages- immediately dialling his number and gnaw on your bottom lip in eagerness. “Belphie.. Come on.. pick up, please.” whispering into your phone. Hollow tired eyes watch you from the crack of your door, clutching onto the cow printed pillow he brings everywhere; holding his vibrating phone close to his chest, chuckling while he watches you frantically dial for him over and over. Seeing you finally give in after hearing nothing on the other end, he decides to have fun with this situation. (Yes?) Your D.D.D lights up with his name. (Belphie! I’ve been calling you!) (Belphie? Belphie!) (Are you really going to leave me on read?) Stepping away from the entrance of your door to suppress his laughter, he peeks through to see that you’ve shoved your D.D.D aside. Tossing and turning, trying to find a cool underside of the pillow. Pulling and tugging at your nightie. He watches you fuss over your long braid beneath your neck, pulling onto your covers then kicking them off again. Light from the hallway seeps in until a familiar silhouette shadows against your bed. Knocking off his shoes and fluffs the cow printed pillow before tucking it beside you, climbing into bed. “Belphie! How did you, when did you get in here?” “You were so loud, i’m sure the rest of my brothers heard you too.” Smiling as he lays down beside you- “Couldn’t sleep? Why exactly are you so tired?” It’s a tick you’re unable to shake off, restlessness along with other aspects of the previous day still bother you though able to let go some steam irregardless of a few yawns from the tired eyed demon propped on his elbow. Huffing, you rub your heavy lids, exhaustion is starting to creep up on you. “Come here-” He pats the empty space. “-Before I change my mind.” “Do you feel better now?” Fingers caressing your back and your face buried in Belphie’s chest, a soft exhale can be heard- sleep has taken you. A satisfied grin across his face and a kiss atop your head. “Finally.” Fingers stroke your cheek and across your parted lips. “Not even in my dreams do I get a sight quite like this.” He pushed to stay awake; enveloped against you, hands warmly tucked under his shirt and the slow rise and fall of your chest. “Sleep, for as long as you need.” ------ All my love, angel

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me imagines #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! satan #obey me! belphegor #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! leviathan #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! x reader #obey me! imagines

[fanaticfangirl001]

What Do You Say, Queenie?

John Bender x reader

Author’s note: Kids don’t smoke. Also sorry for the Freddie Mercury mention but like it’s the 80’s. Also I’m trying to not describe the reader as much. I hope it’s okay.

Warning: Swearing but done by me to describe John.

Request: Hi, please could I request a John bender x reader imagine where the reader always has to take care of her younger siblings (her parents are never around), she’s driving home one night in the rain with the kids and sees John (who she has a crush on) on a bench because he’s got nowhere to go, she lets him stay with them. He’s amazed that she’s able to look after them all and he gets along well with the kids and eventually John and the reader kiss and get together is this okay? Sorry it’s so long💚 

@10blurredsmoke10

Song Recommendations: Bad Reputation by Shawn Mendes, Somebody To Love by Queen(Had to, sorry not sorry) 

Most of the teenagers that go to Sherman High, prefer the front parking spots for easy access to the building but Y/n is a little different. She prefers the parking spot by the dumpster. Mostly for the view. The view of one “immoral” delinquents that leans against the fence beside the dumpster as he smokes. Her tinted car windows hide the fact that she’s staring at him. His lips curl around the cigarette and Y/n could imagine his lips doing something else.

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. Y/n had made a huge change, regarding her hair. It was a risk using a picture of Freddie Mercury for his wavy shoulder length voluminous hair, but Y/n wanted a change. She had just had her braces taken off and her teeth were beautifully straight and pearly white. No longer did she have a picket fence mouth.  No longer could stuck up female dogs named Claire tell her how she’s unattractive and could never find a man. Your father’s law firm, is Mr.Standish’s favorite to use, whenever he needs one, which is often. Your and her father were close professional relationship.

As long as your concerned is fine, as he’s always paid your father more than enough. Between yourself, and three younger brothers, neither of you have ever wanted for anything. You wanted records, you got records, you wanted concert tickets, you saw Queen three times and with every hip shake Freddie preformed you swooned like the other women in the audience. But would records and concert tickets make up for countless days and nights alone. No one to hold you after a nightmare. You were that person for your brothers just as your mother had been for you before she was sick and passed away. Your father’s second wife, the one he was sleeping with while your mother was in the hospital, is only a few years older than yourself and  often away getting manicures and massages, leaving you picking up her sons, triplets, aged 3 years old, and caring for them until she gets home late at night.

You check your bright red lipstick in your car’s mirror. Slinging her backover over her shoulder Y/n starts walking away when someone starts following her and appears beside her.

“That color doesn’t suit you.” A feminine voice says from a car beside where Y/n is walking.

Y/n doesn’t look beside her, she doesn’t need to. It’s Claire.

“Screw off, princess.” A familiar voice says and following him a cloud of smoke.”Only room in this school for a Queen.” John gestures to Y/n.

“You screw off.” Claire retorts getting out of her car and slamming the door, shoving past the both of them.

“Morning, Y/n,” John nods, then runs past Claire making her skirt flip up.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh a little at Claire’s red face after what John did. I should probably tell him that I can handle Claire myself, wonder why he cares and called me Queen. It’s probably the hair, he recognizes it. Fuck he’s going to make fun of me.

History, English, Math went by very quickly. Gym class drags on most days. . You were sitting on the girl’s side of the gym while John was on the boys.

“Alright, boys and girls, pair up. We’re doing a dance unit.” The gym coach screeches.

John’s scan over the girls, most were trying to find guys except for Y/n she stood off to the side, Andrew starts walking over to Y/n.

‘Nope,’ John thinks,’ Not on my watch.’

Long legs are John’s only advantages over Andrew, and the fact that John nonchalantly tripped him before he could ask Y/n to be his partner.

“So Y/n.” John leans against the wall. “ Guess we’re only two without partners.”

“I uh guess so, even if you did trip Andrew.” Y/n says trying not to blush.

‘Dancing involves hand placement,’ Y/n thinks. He’s going to have his hand on my waist.

“I didn’t trip him, just helped him to the ground, with my foot.” John gets off the wall as the coaches are herding teenagers onto the middle of the gym floor.

“Very considerate of you.” Y/n laughs as she pulls John to the group.

John’s moving slowly allowing himself to be pulled by Y/n and still being a little shit.

“Today all of you are going to learn how to ballroom dance. Because all of today’s dancing is hip thrusting, and gyrating.” The coach begins the lesson.

“Ooo, hip thrusting.” John whispers. “So sinful.”

Y/n stifles her laughter with her hand.

“Mr.Bender, and Ms. L/N, would you two like to demonstrate the hand placement, since this is very humorous to you.” The coach says.

John says “ We’ll give it a shot.,” He looks at you,” What do you say Queenie?” ,

“Uh, sure.” Y/n and John go to the front of the gym.

The silence of the gym is overtaken by whispers and wide-eyed stares. You were known as a rich quiet girl with braces with attached headgear and suddenly you’re wearing tight jeans,snakeskin top, red lipstick, and hair modeled after a man that wears women’s clothing and flounces around on stage.

Y/n expertly holds John’s hand and puts her other hand on his shoulders. John smirks and puts his remaining hand in her back pocket, only for her to pick his hand out of her pocket and place it on her waist.

“Can’t blame me for trying.” John laughs.

“Mr.Bender, since you find this so entertaining, why don’t you demonstrate a box step.” Coach says messing with the radio.

“I think everyone knows how to step forward, sideways, and back.” John retorts.

Y/n eyes widen, she wasn’t expecting John of all people to know what a box step is.

“Indulge me.” The coach says.

John rolls his eyes, and steps forward, sideways and back making a little square on the floor, and then twirls Y/n around.

The coach makes John and Y/n go back to their spot on the floor, and turns the music on so other couples can practice.

As Y/n follows John’s steps, she asks “ How do you know how to dance?”

“Dancing’s a prelude to sex, and I have a lot of that,so.” He answers.

“And you wanted to dance with me?” Y/n tries to flirt.

“Don’t think nothin’ of it, just didn’t want Andrew to crush your feet.” John answers coolly not recognizing that Y/n is trying to flirt.

The dancing class ends and the rest of the day continues with same pace of the morning classes. The bell of the last class rings and students run out of the building as the dark grey sky begins to open and pour down rain. Y/n runs to the back off the school near the dumpster to her car and tosses her backpack into the passenger seat.

She drives home and tosses her bag in her room and cleans up the kitchen and living room. The playroom can be cleaned up later. The pick up time for the preschool that her half-brothers are at, is at six but with the thunder storm she decides to pick up the boys a little early. With her homework finished, she packs up the car and heads over to the preschool.

Aiden, Freddie, and Michale wave with the owner of the school at the car.

Y/n grabs the umbrella from the car and brings each of the boys to the car. Once everyone is buckled Y/n starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. The darkening sky and heavy rain cause her to drive slowly as her brothers in the back seat raced raindrops. Freddie’s raindrop was wining and Aiden didn’t like this and didn’t want to play anymore so he looked out the window.

“Sissy, there’s a hobo in the grass.” Aiden yells.

Y/n’s slows the car to a stop beside the stop sign before their neighborhood.

    She looks out the window,” That’s not a hobo, that’s..John.”

She pulls off the road and steps out of the car with an umbrella.

John sits up completely drenched, his jacket wrapped against his shoulders like a makeshift umbrella. The white shirt clings to his chest and torso.

“What are you doing outside?” Y/n asks holding the umbrella over him.

“Nowhere to go, Queenie.” John shot back. “You’re getting wet now.”

“You like kids, John?” Y/n looks back to the three boys with their faces smushed against the window looking like little piglets.

“Never met any.” He shrugs standing up.

“Get in. “ Y/n opens the door for him.

The three boys start giggling as John sits down and the car starts moving

“Boys, be nice, this is John, a friend from school.”

“Do you like our sissy?” Aiden asks getting down to brass tacks.

“Uh she’s nice.” John answers a little taken back by the child’s bluntness.  

“Please ignore them.” Y/n says pulling into the driveway.

Once she turns off the car, the boys are out and running to the door.

“You take care of them.” John asks once the boys are inside and run up the white stairs in the middle of a fancy house.

“Yeah, my uh stepmom isn’t the most maternal, and doesn’t like being around her kids or me for that matter .” Y/n sits on the couch.

John sits by her. “ That’s messed up, what happens when you leave?”

“I don’t know.” Y/n shrugs.” I can’t abandon them.They’re my brothers.”

“Half.” John reminds.

“If I don’t take care of them, than a nanny will, and you know what that means.” Y/n leans towards him.

“They become emotionally constipated.” John answers.

“No, well yeah but worse, they become spoiled brats and then become lawyers.” Y/n smirks.

“Ew.” John says.

“Yeah ew.” Y/n nudges him. “ Help me make dinner.”

*45 minutes later*

“So you put them to bed too?” John asks.

“Yup. I normally read them a bedtime story but..” Y/n gestures towards the two of them.

With the upstairs lights off and three little boys sleepily closing their eyes, Y/n rejoins John at the bottom of the steps.

“Queenie, I’ve been thinking.” John starts and gently pulls her down when he realizes she’s still standing.

“Go on.” Y/n says with a small smile, “ I’m listening.”

“What do you say, Queenie, be my girl?” John asks looking up at Y/n awaiting her answer.

She doesn’t answer, Y/n grabs John’s collar pulls him closer and kisses him.

#john bender imagines #john bender #john bender x reader

[ladypaulsvn]

Bandages

Word Count: 1,661

Pairings: Foxxay (Cordelia Goode x Misty Day)

AU// Cordelia and Misty are not witches, Cordelia lives alone in an apartment and Misty lives in the one across the hall. Misty frantically knock's on Cordelia's door late one night, bloody and bruised.

A/N: this isn’t heavily edited so i’m sorry for mistakes!

"What happened? Who did this to you?!" Cordelia frantically asked Misty as she pulled her inside her adjacent apartment. The two had known each other for a few months now, Cordelia having just moved into the apartment complex earlier that year. Misty had made herself known that very day, offering to help Cordelia with boxes. They had spent the next few months slowly becoming friends, with a hint of something more.

"Got inna fight," Misty's accent was strong and laced with alcohol. "Jesus Misty, how much have you had to drink? Who did this to you?" Cordelia repeated her earlier question. "Rando-Guy at the bar, touched me all over so I punched em'... didn' end well... as ya can see," Misty slurred her words, laughing inbetween her fragments of sentences. Cordelia cursed under her breath as she placed Misty down onto her couch, watching as she flopped over onto her side.

"I'll be right back, please stay right there." Cordelia propped Misty back up and scrambled to her bathroom, searching through her cabinets for all her first-aid materials. She spotted her bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some cotton balls so she scooped them up and made her way back to Misty as quick as she could. To her luck, Misty has managed to stay in the position Cordelia had left her last.

"Okay Misty, this shouldn't sting too bad okay?" Cordelia said, kneeling in front of her friend and pouring some peroxide onto a cotton ball, softly pressing it to Misty's cheek where a bloody scratch lay. "Ow ow ow ow ow," Misty hissed as Cordelia pressed softly onto the wound. "I'm sorry, i'm being as gentle as I can, hold still, please, Misty." Cordelia sighed as she grabbed another cotton ball soaked in peroxide and pressed it to the wound on Misty's eyebrow.

"Where the hell is this guy now? Do you know?" Cordelia questioned her friend once again. "No idea Delia," Misty winced at Cordelia's touch once again. "Why were you even at a bar, you don't drink?" Cordelia had many, many questions. "Wanted to feel somethin'" Misty responded honestly, shrugging her shoulders. Cordelia frowned and sat down on her knees, stopping the patching of Misty's wounds momentarily.

"What do you mean by that?" Cordelia looked up into Misty's eyes with a frown. Cordelia couldn't help but feel immense sympathy for her neighbor, and friend. "'Xactly what I said," Misty sighed, Cordelia should understand what she means without her having to explain it. "Don' feel much, so I wen' out, tryin' to feel somethin'. Thought maybe alcohol. Dunno." Misty sighed again, she seemed to be doing that a lot tonight.

"I... see," Cordelia knotted her brows together as she finished cleaning Misty's face. "Anywhere else you're bleeding?" Cordelia asked, glancing over her neighbor, looking for more injuries. "No..." Misty trailed the word, "Than' ya, for bandagin' me."

"You're welcome Misty," Cordelia didn't know what to say, or what to do at this point. Should she let Misty stay? Bring her over to her own apartment? "Do you want to stay here? Or go home?" Cordelia pondered aloud to Misty who stared off into space. "Misty?" Cordelia sighed. Misty was completely out of it. "You're going to stay here, okay?" Cordelia said aloud, not expecting a response as she got up from the floor, dusting off her knees and picking up the peroxide and other aids to put them away.

"Where ya goin?" Misty wondered aloud as Cordelia walked away. "Putting these away, and getting you a blanket, and pillow." Cordelia said, checking things off her list mentally as she said they aloud. She came back a few short minutes later with a handful of things.

Misty had fallen over, her face smushed into the cushion of Cordelia's couch. Cordelia sighed at the sight. "Misty, sit up please." Misty groaned as Cordelia sat her up, putting a pillow where her head used to lay. "Do you want a change of clothes? Yours don't look very comfortable to sleep in." Cordelia offered but Misty responses by slumping back over, her head hitting the pillow and she was out like a light.

Cordelia sighed, and covered the now sleeping girl with a blanket. "Sleep well." She whispered, patting Misty's head of messy blonde hair and heading back to her room, turning to catch one last glance at the sleeping girl on her couch before disappearing for the night into her space.

***

The next morning Misty woke up on the floor of her neighbor's apartment, Miss Cordelia. Groaning, she sat up, putting an arm on the couch for leverage before standing up to find the bathroom, not that she really had to find it, she'd been in Cordelia's apartment enough times to know, but she was very hungover.

Misty stared at herself in the mirror, cursing herself for last night's activities and preparing her multiple apologizes she would be spilling into Cordelia's ears once she woke up. "Oh ya big dummy," she poked her reflection in the mirror before grasping her forehead in pain. "No talkin' maybe is a betta idea," she cursed herself as she went back to inspecting her reflection, looking at the carefully placed bandages on her face and body that she knew Cordelia must've done last night.

Truth be told, Misty didn't remember much. Just punching someone, then knocking on Cordelia's door. Everything else was a blank slate. This kind of scared her, she could've said something she regretted, but she hoped she didn't. The last she wanted to do was ruin her friendship with Cordelia.

"Misty?" Speaking of, Cordelia's voice rung softly through the small hallway and drifted into the bathroom, making Misty smile in response. "Mornin' Delia..." Misty had a hand behind her neck anxiously as she padded from the bathroom and into the hallway, meeting Cordelia face to face. "M' so so sorry about last night," Misty started, staring at the ground.

"Don't be. You would've done the same for me Misty Day." Cordelia put a soft hand on Misty's shoulder before moving past her, into the bathroom. A few moments later she returned with a closed fist, dropping two pills into Misty's hand. "Take those, Tylenol, it'll help with the headache. Drink some water too, please." Cordelia smiled softly and Misty nodded in response.

"You really are the kindest soul Miss Cordelia," Misty nearly whispered and Cordelia beamed in response, "A friend helps a friend, Misty, but thank you." Cordelia went back into her bedroom and left Misty in the hallway so Misty ventured into Cordelia's small kitchen for a glass of water to take her pills with.

She knew which cabinet held the glasses so she easily acquired one and filled it with tap water before taking the Tylenol Cordelia had given her in one gulp. She downed the rest of the glass and set it in the sink along side the few dirty dishes she assumed Cordelia had left last night because of her.

Usually, Cordelia was exceptionally neat, but Misty assumes that she had gotten preoccupied by her drunken mess to clean a few dishes, so she left them. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, Misty decided to wash the few dishes instead of just adding her own. She had to repay Cordelia in some way, and this was a start, she thought.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand met her shoulder a few minutes later, "You don't have to do that, Misty." Cordelia laugher softly in her ear. "God Delia I coulda jumped right out my own skin," Misty breathed hard, finishing the last dish before turning the water off and drying her hands on a fish towel, neatly folding it back up the way she'd seen Cordelia do it the last time she was over.

"Thank you, you're such a considerate guest." Cordelia smiled as she opened the fridge, "Would you like some breakfast? I'm going to make myself some eggs, I could make you some." Cordelia offered and Misty simply nodded, she truly was starving.

"Sit on that stool there by the counter, i'll get the eggs out." Cordelia opened the fridge as Misty sat at the counter. Misty watched Cordelia swiftly move around the kitchen as she made their eggs. "Scrambled?" Cordelia asked and Misty nodded. Cordelia had made her breakfast many times before, as their midnight antics often led to being passed out on Cordelia's couch.

Misty was lost in her own thoughts when a plate of hot eggs was placed gently in front of her, she shook her head to clear her thoughts and thanked Cordelia softly before beginning to eat.

"How are you feeling?" Cordelia asked after taking a bite of her own eggs, sunny side up as she always liked. "M' okay," Misty continued eating, avoiding the worried glances she knew Cordelia was sending her way. The next thing she knew, a cold palm was pressed against her cheek and then her forehead and she looked up, meeting Cordelia's eyes. "Sorry, you looked feverish." Cordelia was now the one avoiding Misty's gaze but Misty just smiled at her caring friend. "No apologizes necessary Delia. M' promise m' doin' jus' fine," Misty smiled catching Cordelia's eyes finally.

"Misty?" Cordelia blurted our after silence fell between them. "Yeah Delia?" Misty looked up at her friend curiously. "Would you be upset if I kissed you?" Cordelia nearly covered her own mouth as she let the words tumble out. Misty stared at Cordelia in shock before shaking her head, "No... I wouldn'"

Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief as she stood up, placing her dish in the sink and rising away the germs. As she turned around, a pair of lips were on her own, and Misty's arms wove around her shoulders as they both sank into the kiss. "Would you be upset if I kissed you?" Misty asked as she pulled away and Cordelia just laughed and shook her head.

#cordelia x misty #misty day #cordelia goode #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #american horror story #au story #au fanfiction #fanfic

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

better together

Clint Barton x Reader

Summary: one night after too many drinks, clint finds his way into your bed. and despite his embarrassment the next morning, it starts happening more and more often.

Characters/Pairings: clint barton/reader, bruce banner, natasha romanoff (mentioned), steve rogers (mentioned), sam wilson (mentioned), tony stark (mentioned).

Warnings: fluff, smut, alcohol, unprotected sex, drunk sex, slight!dom clint.

Word Count: 4,215

MARVEL MASTERLIST or CHECK OUT MY FANFIC DEDICATED BLOG

“Uh… Clint? You know that’s my bed, right?”

He gave you a long, drawn out groan by way of response, rolling over and snuggling further into your sheets. He took the blanket with him, dragging it over his shoulder as his face smushed into your favorite pillow. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you set the glass of water you’d just gone to get down on your bedside table. When he offered up no further conversation, you strode around to the other side of the bed, so you could see his face again.

You’d just played designated driver for a few of those currently staying at the new Avengers facility outside of New York. Sam had bribed you into taking them into the city and picking them back up again with Chinese food, so you’d picked up spring rolls and Kung Pao Chicken for you and Wanda. She was still adjusting to life stateside with the team, so the two of you opted for a quiet night on the couch rather than out on the town.

And while Natasha and Sam had been happy to make themselves comfortable and continue their conversation when you’d picked them up, Clint had insisted on leaning forward in his seat, his chin propped up on the back of your chair. He’d spent the ride home mumbling sleepily in your ear about in nothing in particular.

The archer had only arrived back in New York a couple of hours before Sam had convinced him to join them; he’d spent the last two weeks on a security detail for some foreign dignitary. Not the usual gig for an Avenger, but there’d been an assassination threat, and the infamous Hawkeye was the best there was for seeing things from a distance. It’d been confirmed to be a hoax, however, and he’d apparently felt the need to celebrate. Unfortunately, the jetlag had made the alcohol hit him just a little bit harder than it usually would.

Wanda had gone to bed by the time you’d returned, so you’d excused yourself from the others in the lobby and gone to do the same. You’d barely been gone a minute to get a drink, so you had no idea how Clint had managed to get into your room and make himself comfortable in that time.

He was still wearing his tee shirt, but you now noticed his shoes, jacket and jeans were in a pile on the floor by your feet. You felt a blush rise in your neck.

“Clint,” your voice dropped almost intimately despite yourself, and you cleared your throat self-consciously.

“Mmff.”

“…Dude.”

“Shh…” he grumbled petulantly, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. “’m sleeping.”

“Yeah, no shit, Barton. But why does it have to do it in my bed?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “’s comfy.”

“I know it is. That’s kind of why I want it back,” you pointed out tiredly. When he didn’t reply, you shook your head in exasperation. “Clint, where am I supposed to sleep?”

He mumbled something incoherent into the pillow, pulling back the covers and patting the mattress in front of him lazily. Your blush deepened, but his eyes thankfully remained closed. When you didn’t make any immediate move, he reached up to you blindly, groping at the air for a moment before his hand clumsily caught hold of your wrist.

“C’mon.”

“Uh…?”

He rolled onto his back, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. The blankets had been tossed back far enough that you could see the bare skin of his thigh, tan against the black of his boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered to his bulge for a second before you caught yourself, meeting his eyes again. His fingers were still warm on your wrist, but there was sleepy, hopeful smirk curving one side of his mouth. “Promise to behave myself.”

A laugh caught in your throat, and you nodded. He broke into an almost punch-drunk smile, a dimple in one cheek, tugging on your wrist eagerly as you climbed onto the mattress beside him.

“Just for a little while, ‘kay?” you said as you laid down carefully beside him, your back to him, and pulled the blankets back up over the both of you. Your breath caught as his hand snaked over your waist, pulling you back against him. Your back met his chest; he was warm and firm against you. You hid a smile as you felt him press his forehead to your back, his calloused fingers spreading almost possessively over your stomach, his thumb brushing at the base of your sternum. “This is behaving?”

His voice was muffled against your shoulder blade, his breath tickling against the thin material of your shirt. “’s much as I can right now. But I’ve got some other ideas if you’re interested…”

Butterflies swirled low in your belly at his tone – and the feeling of him pressed against your backside – but you forced yourself to exhale slowly. He was so very drunk. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his body against yours despite yourself as FRIDAY dimmed the lights to darkness.

“Sweet dreams, Hawkeye.”

*              *              *

“Another drink?”

You started slightly as you felt Clint’s hand on the small of your back, laughing as he caught you mid-sip. You wiped your chin with the back of your hand, shaking your head as you let yourself lean back into long enough to be heard over the music. His hand slipped around to touch your hip, his chest warm against your back. A bunch of the team had come out tonight for dinner and drinks, and your whole body buzzed pleasantly with the effects of the alcohol in your system. The way his weight settled against you, his breath warm on your shoulder and neck told you he’d probably had as much as you.

“Bruce already beat you to it,” you said, holding up your half-full glass. You and Natasha had decided to work your way through the house cocktail menu, and while the drink Bruce had bought you tasted only of peaches and a hint of raspberry, you were sure that Nat had convinced the bartender to add an extra shot of vodka. Where she’d disappeared to, you weren’t sure, but Bruce had been proving great company. “Sorry, hon.”

“Rude.” Clint pouted jokingly, his hand lingering on your hip for a moment before he pulled away, his fingers skimming over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shivered despite the warmth of the bar. He sat on the stool behind you, waving down a bartender.

“Yes, it was incredibly rude of Bruce to buy me a drink purely out of the goodness of his own heart,” you eye-rolled teasingly, wiggling a finger at Bruce. “Shame on you.”

“I’m not sure how I’ll live with myself.” Bruce replied, a gentle smile curving his mouth. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, stumbling back into Clint as he hooked a hand around your waist and tugged you back into his side. You yelped, your back meeting his shoulder, drink spilling onto your hand.

“Clint!”

“Careful now, you don’t want to get the good doctor too excited, now do you?” Clint teased, winking at Bruce. The doctor rolled his eyes, ordering another soda – he didn’t drink much, particularly in public settings. You didn’t straighten from where you rested against Clint as he released his hold on you, but your breath caught slightly as you felt his fingertips graze the kin beneath the hem of your shirt as he did. “Now, who’s having a shot with me?”

As relaxed as Clint was now, you’d never seen him as sheepish as he was the morning after that night. You’d both woken late, and you’d withdrawn from his touch as soon as you’d remembered what was going on. He’d been bleary-eyed and confused as he woke, and his apologies had been adorably profuse. They’d first come muffled from under your pillow, his tee shirt riding up his back. Then again later, between eager mouthfuls of black coffee, pancakes and crispy bacon at the kitchen counter, curtesy of the live-in chef Tony had relocated from Stark Tower.

You’d waved them off with teasing quips and laughter, but he’d continued, up until it was time for you to meet Steve for a training session. He’d given you a tired smile and bumped his forehead against your shoulder as you’d leaned over him to steal a bite of his pancakes, and you’d left it at that.

Still, despite his assurances that it wouldn’t happen again, over the next few weeks it somehow became a habit for him to fall into your bed after a night out.

Some nights he’d beat you there, and you’d stumble into your room still tipsy to find him already in your bed, half asleep and half dressed. He’d pull you into the bed beside him with his eyes closed, groaning contentedly as you curled into his side. Other nights you’d feel him slide into the bed behind you, his fingertips grazing your throat as he pushed your hair away from your throat before settling down against you like he did that first night.

He’d always apologize, at least once… but as much as you’d never admit it, you looked forward to these nights with him, and you never slept better than when he was there.

“What are we, eighteen?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing shots with you, Barton.”

Clint chuckled, leaning forward slightly to speak in your ear. It wasn’t intimate enough for Bruce to raise an eyebrow, but then he couldn’t see Clint’s hand ghosting over the side of your thigh. The bare skin erupted in goosebumps where ever he touched, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt. “C’mon, Y/N. When have you ever been able to say ‘no’ to me?”

*              *              *

“Clint, honey, what’re you doing?” you asked, laughing.

You’d practically fallen into bed about twenty minutes ago, having left your clothes strewn haphazardly across your bedroom floor. Clint had convinced you to drink more than you should have, despite your protests, before Nat had tugged you away from him with an alluring grin to join her on the dancefloor.

You’d spent the rest of the night with her, laughing as she’d convinced Steve and Sam to join the two of you. It was almost three-thirty by the time Steve had urged you all outside and claimed the keys to one of the many luxury SUVs Tony had made available to the team from the valet.

You’d pulled on a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized tee shirt and flopped contentedly into bed, pulling the duvet up over you as FRIDAY automatically dimmed the lights to near-darkness for you. You’d barely made yourself comfortable before Clint had managed to find his way to your room, tripping over his own feet and cursing.

“Ooh, ‘honey’?” Clint teased with a wiggle of his fingers, swearing again where he tripped over his own jeans. You snickered as he did, sobering slightly as he moved to take off his shirt again. In all the nights he spent in your room, he’d never taken it off. It was like a unspoken, unintentional rule designed to keep things platonic between the two of you.

“Oh, bite me, Hunger Games,” you mumbled, wetting your lips. Clint taking off his shirt may just be the most erotic damn thing you’d ever seen. The way each muscle stretched and bunched and relaxed under his skin was like poetry in motion, settling in the very image of Adonis. There was a bruise on his ribs that tainted his skin with a blossom of dark purple; a shadow in the dim of the bedroom. You could barely make out the few scars that were scattered over his chest and stomach, memories of old battles.

You exhaled slowly as your face flushed, that same heat pooling low in your belly as he tossed it aside and gave you a lopsided grin. There was something so dangerous about Clint Barton standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

Shit.

Clint chuckled as you rolled onto your side, turning your back to him in an attempt to loosen the knot in your stomach. It only tightened however as you felt the bed shift as he climbed in behind you. There was a brief rush of cool air as he lifted the blankets before the heat of his body found yours. The lights faded to darkness above you.

He was on his hands and knees as he leaned over you, and you gave a small, catching sigh as you felt his hand take a light hold of your hip. Your breath caught as he settled down behind you and pulled you back against him just as he had that first night. His thigh pressed between both of yours, and you felt a shiver dance through your body as his hand slid up from your hip to the underside of your breast, taking the hem of your shirt up with it.

You could feel him pressing up against your backside; your pulse quickened at the firmness of it. His hand was bunching in the fabric of your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin. Your teeth found your bottom lip, eyes closed, as you felt his nose skim the corner of your jaw, his breath warm on the side of your neck.

“Clint…”

His lips touched just below your ear, a whisper on your skin, and your thighs clenched in response.

“Clint…”

He released his hold on your shirt, the side of his hand barely ghosting over your nipple before it found your chin. The brush sent a spark through you, and your body arched instinctively, as if to follow his hand. Clint groaned as your backside pressed against him, the sound low in your ear. He turned your face towards him gently, his lips travelling along your jaw.

“Y/N… please…”

You arched your neck back, bumping your nose against his gently. The stubble of his cheek scratched lightly at your skin as you did, and you could almost feel the curve of his smile. His lips almost touched yours – you could almost taste him, almost feel him, and his breath mingled with yours in the dark for a moment as your entire body tingled with his touch. “When have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you, right?”

Clint chuckled, his voice husky and honey-sweet before he claimed your lips with his own. They were soft and eager, a confirmation of everything you’d imagined mixed with the ungraceful edge of alcohol. His fingers curled in your hair, his thumb stroking your temple. You whined into the kiss as his teeth caught on your bottom lip, slinging your hips back into his.

He groaned headily, taking hold of your hip. His fingers slipped under the elastic of your shorts, guiding you back against him as he ground into you. You could feel him harden against the cleft of your backside, your thighs tightening as you realized the length of him. “Fuck, baby…”

You rolled onto your back as Clint shifted to hover above you, straddling one of your thighs. You pulled his face to yours, crushing your lips to his desperately as he tugged your shirt up clumsily over your breasts. He palmed one in his hand, your nipple hardening under his touch. His thigh pressed against your center, and you raised your hips, a moan catching in your throat at the sensation.

His mouth moved along your jaw and down your neck, settling on your pulse point with a mixture of tongue and teeth. “You’re incredible.” Clint muttered as you pulled away long enough to toss your shirt to the floor. His lips returned to your body as soon as you lay back again, pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Every fucking inch of you.”

“You’re not… not so bad yourself, Hawkeye,” you murmured breathlessly as his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of your waist. You whimpered as he rolled his tongue over your nipple, catching it lightly between his teeth. You could feel his smirk, and it faltered as you tugged at his hair.

“God, do that again,” he growled, his breath cool against the now-damp skin of your breast. Goosebumps danced down your arms at the sensation. You tightened your grip in his hair and he practically shuddered, cursing as he took hold of your hips and angled you up against his thigh.

“Jesus, Clint…”

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, guiding your movements to roll your hips up against him. The thin material of your shorts did nothing to dull the sensation, and your hands slid up his biceps to grip at his shoulders. “God, the sounds you make…”

You moaned as Clint slipped a hand between your thighs, kissing you again as he pushed your shorts aside. You squeaked against his lips as his fingers found your clit, circling it with a steady, teasing rhythm. You wrapped an arm around his neck, your forehead pressed to his as you broke apart for air.

“God, I want to fuck you…” he told you, his voice broken with need. You could feel him, hard against your thigh, as if to prove his point. You peppered kisses along his jaw, catching his earlobe between your teeth. “It’s all I’ve been able to fucking think about.  The way you’d… fuck, you’re wet.”

Your long, drawn-out moan was punctuated by an appreciative hum from Clint as he slowly slid two fingers inside you. You arch up into him as he withdraws them, and he chuckled, leaning back on his haunches and pushing your hips back down onto the mattress as he took up an achingly slow pace. Parting your legs further, you watched as Clint cocked his head to the side, eyes focused on his hand. His other palmed himself through his underwear, and you reached down to trace your fingertips over his thigh, if only to touch him again.

Clint’s eyes flickered back up to yours as you did, dark with need and want and something that made your stomach tighten wonderfully. A smile quirked at the side of his lips, affectionate and endearingly crooked, and you jerked as his thumb pressed to your clit.

He snickered at you, pleased with himself, and you managed to roll your eyes at him before they rolled back; his fingers curving inside you. Hooking your ankle around his hips, you urged him towards you, catching his shoulder as soon as he was in reach and kissed him again.

Reaching down with your other hand, you pushed his away from your sex, wrapping your legs around his waist. Taking it in stride, he trailed his hand almost clumsily up your side, fingertips tickling the underside of your breast. You hooked your fingers in his briefs, urging them down his hips. They caught on his erection, and Clint reached between the two of you to release it, a soft sigh of relief puffing against your cheek as he did.

It turned to a groan as you wrapped your hand around the base, his underwear still halfway down his thighs. Clint’s head fell to your shoulder, and he mumbled incoherently into your skin as you tightened your legs around him and guided him into position.

“Fuck…” the two of you breathed together as he slowly thrust into you, his lips moving to your throat. You tangled fingers in his hair as his hips found their rhythm – each slow thrust a exaltation as his pelvic bone met your clit. He sucked a mark into the side of your neck, a hand catching the side of your face as you tried to wriggle away.

“Clint!” you admonished in a hushed, breathless voice. “Do you have… fuck… any idea how hard that’s going to be to hide?”

He giggled as he found your lips again, nipping at your bottom lip before breaking away. “Just have to put ‘em where no one can see them, then.”

He kissed his way down the side of your throat again, and you squealed as he paused to blow a raspberry into the crook of your neck. You smacked his chest as he laughed, a grin on your face, reaching up to tug at his hair. The rhythm of his hips stuttered as you did, a moan catching in the back of his throat.

You did it again as he marked your ribs with another hickey, just below your breast, and he took hold of your hips in response, his fingers sliding under your shorts to grip at bare flesh. He raised your hips off the bed, pushing into you deeper with the new angle. Your moan was high-pitched and keening as he brushed against your g-spot, your hands moving to tease your breasts urgently, fingers clutching inelegantly, desperate for whatever more sensation you could get.

“C’mere,” Clint took hold of your hand, and you whimpered as he slipped out of you. He tugged you up onto your knees, leaning back until you were straddling his thighs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ran fingers through his hair. Clint’s lips found yours again, an urgent mix of tongue and the hint of teeth, as you sunk back onto him, and he took hold of your waist again, bouncing you steadily on his cock.

Your chest was pressed to his, nipples hard and aching, and he clutched at your back as you took over control, his lips finding your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, and always back to your lips. Your whole body was damp with sweat and buzzing with electricity and all you could concentrate on was his touch, Clint’s strong hands and the way he filled you. There was a slight ache still, a testament to his girth, but you relished it, corkscrewing your hips over his.

“Clint,” you murmured as he brushed hair away from your sweat-sheened temple, your voice hoarse and yearning. Begging, even. His hands slipped down to rest on your ass, tugging the back of your shorts up to squeeze and spread the cheeks gently. Even with a light hold, he supported your weight like it was nothing – a quiet reminder of how Clint Barton was able to keep up with gods and super soldiers. “Jesus, fuck, Clint. I’m—”

“It’s all you, babe,” he replied unevenly, his lips moving up to your ear. A shiver wracked your body as his tongue teased your earlobe, and you cursed as one hand moved around to tease your clit again. Everything inside you was tightening, your belly a coil begging to release. You could feel yourself beginning to crest, and you squeezed your thighs, tightening around him. “You just say the word.”

“You mean the magic one?” you laughed breathlessly, arching backwards and swiveling your hips. Clint swore, his hand sliding up from your backside to the small of your back in support, his fingertips tickling at your waist. He thrust into you eagerly, until you almost lost your balance. You grabbed at his forearms awkwardly, and Clint pulled you toward him easily, taking hold of your waist. His other hand tangled in your hair, bunching it around his fist as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Stop teasing me,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours. “Please, baby…”

You grinned, kissing him. “Made you say it.”

Quickening your pace, you angled your hips, so your clit brushed against him with every thrust. The sound of flesh meeting flesh joined your voices, and you ran your hands up from his shoulders to take hold of his hair. You pulled hard just as you felt your orgasm hit, and Clint moaned obscenely, his hips bucking up against yours. He thrust hard enough to almost unseat you, and he pressed forward, pushing you back onto your back.

His pace was almost brutal, and you clung to him, one hand still in his hair and one digging nails into his bicep. Clint gripped at your thigh, hiking your leg up over his hip and you cried out as you felt a second orgasm follow your first.

Clint buried his face in your neck as he came, teeth scraping at your shoulder. Each touch he gave you sent a twitch through you as you both came down, his hips stuttering against yours before he slowly withdrew.

You shuddered as he did, your thighs slick with his come and yours. Clint rolled off of you slowly, running a hand over his face. “Fuck me.”

“I thought I just did,” you joked with shaky breath, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed as he laughed.

“Where’re you going?”

You glanced back over your shoulder at him, giving him a soft smile. “Bathroom. I won’t be long.”

“Promise?” Clint asked, already pulling your duvet up over himself. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in affectionate amusement. You rescued his shirt from the floor, pulling it on. He gave you a low whistle in response. Tucking hair behind your ear, you leaned over him, kissing his cheek.

“You know the drill, Barton. When have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you?”

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tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw

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REMEMBER TO CHECK OUT MY NEW FANFIC DEDICATED BLOG, LINKED ABOVE.

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton & reader #clint barton x you #clint barton & you #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x you #hawkeye & you #hawkeye & reader #clint barton fanfic #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton imagine #hawkeye fanfic #hawkeye fanfiction #hawkeye imagine #clint barton reader insert #hawkeye reader insert #mine: fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert

[imagining-sio]

Escapism III

Chapter III: Name your Price

A/N: sorry for the inactivity; I am currently studying abroad in France!!!

——————————————————————————

The next day started off with the alarm blaring from under my pillow. I shut off the alarm lazily before sluggishly manuvering out of bed. as my toes touched the floor, I hissed at the cold sensation. Rubbing my eyes, I walk downstairs, starting the keurig upon the small amount of countertop space I had in the kitchen.

I opened the front door, grabbing the newspaper. I glanced at the headline, finding it uninteresting. I looked up toward my neighbor’s home, only to find my neighbor picking up his paper without a shirt. I could easily spot the sleeve of tattoos that went from his wrist to his pectoral. His adonis-like body was glistening in the morning dew. I quickly looked away, hoping he couldnt see me as I slammed the door. I placed my hand upon my chest, trying to regulate my breathing. I wiped my hand overmy face praying that what I saw was some sort of delayed sleep paralysis.

I groaned, grabbing my mug of tea and moing back upstairs to get dressed for the day. I threw on a red sweater, one that was a little oversized due to the recent weather over the past week. I stepped into my dark washed jeans before slipping into my white sneakers. I took one last bated breath before mustering up the courage to walk outside for the day. I didnt have to go to work, but I had errands to run. Groceries was first on the list.

I placed the tea in a to-go mug, flung my woolen trench coat on, and grabbed my purse and keys before walking out the door. Thankfully, there was no half naked neighbor to greet my sight this time, but a woman whom was visibly dishevled leaving his home, our eyes made contact as she got into her cab. As soon as it was out of sight I watched as he lifted the garage door up, helmet in hand.

I wasted no time entering the drivers seat of my vehicle, I wasnt much up for conversation today. I set my purse in the passenger seat beside me, my keys jingling between my fingers. I stuck the key in ignition, fully expecting the vehicle to run when I turned it over.

The response I recieved was less than reasuring. The engine all but keeled over, sputting long enough before I gave up. I tried a few more times, growing more impatient each time. I tried one last time before boiling over completely.

“Are you kidding me?!” I cursed at the poor bronco. The one that had gooten from one side of the country to another. This poor, old, dishelved piece I could not bare to part from. I knew in the back of my head it was only a matter of time, but still; would it have killed him to get me into town.

I stormed out of the vehicle, samming the door, not caring who had heard it. I could hear the faint sound of music coming from the garage across the street; but I was too furious to care about it at the moment. I propped open the hood of good ole Oliver, looking at his entrails as if they were a foreign language.

Automechanics was a foreign language.

I hung my head in deafeat after looking at the engine for mere seconds. I was never going to be able to fix it. I heaved a sigh before peaking out from underneath the propped hood; the music was surefire evidence he was still there.

‘Suck it up, and go ask him,’ I repeated to myself. I wrung my hands out as I walked across the street. I relaized as I was doing so this would be the frist time I would be actively seeking him out, and not him running into me or simply by obligation.

His back was facing me as I walked up his driveway. The alternative music was blaring as he worked on his motorcycle. Fotunately he had put on a shirt, a greasy white one, but a shirt was still a shirt. A dark bottle lay at his boot, and his toolbox at the other. His hair wasn’t tied back like it nomrally was back at the shop. intead he mere tucked most of it behind his ears to keep it out of his face as he worked.

His sleeve of tattoos stood out porminently upon his arm, with only a small space left showing his actual skin. It was upon th einside of his arm, the part of his bicep that was closest to his heart. Strange why someone would leave it open and untouched like that. Then again I cannot judge what someone does to their body.

I swallowed the nonexistent gum in my throat and walked up to the doorway of his garage, knocking on the frame a few raps.

He somehow heard me knocking or saw my shadow, because he turned his head and looked at me. Initially he looked suprised to see me, which I couldnt blame him for. Its not like I was someone who was neighborly, unlike his philosophy. He grabbed the strewn remote in his pocket, turning the volume of his radio down signofocantly.

“Hello neighbor, what brings you to my humble abode?” His charm was on full display, though the bags under his eyes begged to differ.

“I made need some assistance.” my shoulders hiked up as I pursed my lips.

“And what would you need assistance with?” He stood up, wiping his greasy hands on a towel he had kept on his pant leg as he sat. He sauntered up as he did so, when finishing he slapped the towel over his shoulder, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I need,” I watched as his smirk grew and his brow hiked up his forehead; “your knoweldge on how to fix cars.” I threw my thumb backward, pointing to my vehicle in my driveway.

“I thought I told you to bring it by the shop?” He smirked.

“I wasn’t aware that it was a prophecy.” I rolled my eyes, feeling slightly kiddish as he smiled down at me.

“Maybe you should start listening to me more often.” Bucky nudged me as he strode out of my driveway in his destroyed jeans. I couldnt help but marvel of how the hell his thighs could fit into them in the first place.

“You coming?” I didn’t notice he had stopped. I couldn’t help but smile as I walked up to join him.

“So what is wrong with the Bronco?”

“He won’t start?”

“He?”

“Yes, he. Oliver is his name, treat him nicely.” I said as he walked up to the propped hood. He took a glance at it, making sure tht the importnat wires were connected properly. I subnociously made note of how taut his arms were as he did so.

This man was going to be the death of me.

“Hm, doesn’t look like the starter is broken. Your oil is fine too. Try starting it?”

I did as he said, hopping into the open seat, turning over the ignition again. The loud spurting sound came out in full force. Bucky ducked underneath the vehicle as I stopped turning the engine.

“Nope that is the starter all right.” he placed his hand in his scruffy chin, a small patch of grease staining it.

“How much for a starter?” I asked, drawing him out of his train of thought.

“Hmm? Oh, please, no need. Lemme grab one of my spares in the garage. Easy fix.”

That alarmed me. I did not like owing people. Owing people eant they had someting to hold over you. Something to chain you down. Owing people was leverage over you.

“No, lemme pay for it. Please,” I inisisted.

“Oh, no sweetheart. Not gonna happen. Thsi is an easy fix. It’s really no trouble for me. I have plenty of spares.” He said with a dashing smile. I walked back with him over to his garage, hellbent on proving him wrong.

“Than naem a price and I’ll pay it! It’s really not too much trouble, Barnes.”

“What did I say about calling me Barnes,” he said with a smile, laughing as he searched for the desired piece.

“Fine,” I said; “How much do I owe you, Bucky.”

“Looks like I need to go to the shop, I’m all out of spares.” He looked up at me from his rummaging in his spare bins of nuts and bolts. I noticed the glint in his eyes.

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anything,” He chuckled.

“Anything but that.”

“It’ll be really short.”

“Bucky, please.”

“I like it when you say my name like that.” he flashed a charming grin.

“Are you seriously trying to flirt your way into getting what you want?” I raised a brow. He paled.

“Is it working?” His expression winced. I could only raise my brows expectantly.

“It may have wokred on your latest romp last night but it won’t work on me.”

“So you saw her huh?”

“Not like she was subtle about it.”

“Yeah, she certainly wasn’t.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Still think I’m gonna do what you want.’

“Yes.” He smirked.

“Oh really,” I laughed; “How so?”
 “That’s my price. Take a ride with me to go get what I need and I’ll fix your bucket of bolts.”

“His name is Oliver.” I corrected him.

“That isn’t a no.” He leaned down and gave me a shit-eating grin. I glared daggers at him before caving in.

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, chuckling as he stuck a victory pose.

“Lemme grab my jacket.” He ran inside, appearing a moment later with a moto jacket on his body and a helmet in hand.

“Safety first.” He paced the white helmet on my head, looming down so he could clip the buckle underneath my chin properly.

“I can do it myself you know?” I giggled, easing my nervousness.

“I know, but how else am I gonna get you to talk to me?”

“By talking to me.” I deapanned. He sat on his motorcycle, kicking it a few times to start it up.

“Where’s, your helmet?” I asked.

“You’re wearing it.” He said as he revved the bike with the mere flick of his wrist.

“Lemme guess, you have your spares at teh shop too?”

“You know me so well.” he smiled.

“I’m starting to think this is all a ploy for me to get on this bike.” I mutterd before sitting on the bike behind him. He chuckled, alerting me to that he had indeed heard my statement.

“Here,” he took hold of my hands, placing them upon his waist, making me hold onto him tight.

“Smooth move, Barnes,” I commented.

“I know”, he smirked over his shoulder toward me.

“Oh thank god, he’s self aware.” I said sarcastically, making him laugh. It was that harmony you would want to hear again and again.

“Hold on tight, doll,” He said, knocking the bike off of its kickstand. He revved the engine and sped off into the street. I held on with a bine knuckle grip, smushing my head into his back. I could only squeeze my eyes shut as the wind blew past us. I took deep breaths, inhaling his scent of leather and firewood. I gained the courage to peak my eyes open, gaining a beautiful sight.

The trees were lit just right as we whizzed by them into town, the light barely peaking through the leaves. The reflections of the lake felt like a kaleidoscope of color. I could only gaze in wonder at all of it. As we got closer into town, the trees were becoming sparse, and telephone poles were the only thing that was relatively tall enough to fit the giant redwood forest’s height. By about twenty feet or so. A content smile grew upon my face, my head coming to rest on the cushion in front of me. That cushion of course being the pilot of this contraption built for adrenaline seekers.

We soon pulled onto a familiar street, and seconds later into the auto shop. It appeared to be open, but it would seem that Bucky was not working today, the same as I wasn’t working to day either.

“See, here we are; safe and sound.” Barnes hopped off the motorcycle, a confident smile plastered upon his lips. I fiddled with the helmet before taking it off my head, trying to tame the windswept hair. How in gods name could he make windswept hair look good? It wasn’t fair.

He held his hand out, to which I gratefully took as I got off the vehicle. I handed him the helmet, before taking three steps back.

“I’ll be just a second.” He placed the helmet on the seat as he walked away to some corner of the building. I knew the place well by this point so I opted to just stand there.

Until I heard a loud clang of a wrench hitting the floor. I jumped out of my sling at the sound, turning to find both Steve and Sam standing a few feet away with mouths open to the floor. Steve has his arm up, and the large wrench at his feet.

“Uh hey guys,” I gave a small awkward wave.

“He let you ride the bike?” Same stood up from underneath the vehicle.

“Uh, yeah; is that a bad thing?” I was becoming anxious at their shared expressions.

“Didn’t he go home with you last night?” Steve asked. I paled at his insinuation.

“N-no! It’s not like that! I just gave him a ride home is all! I swear! We didn’t- I would never!” I scrambled to find words. I could see Sam’s expression quickly change from one of shock to one of amusement. For Steve however, it took him a lot longer to just become passive in his facial expression.

“You would never what?” Bucky’s voice made me stiff to the bone. He was directly beside me, holding a boxed started in his hand. I watched as his smile faded as he looked at his two friends.

“What?” He glared at Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam chuckled as he crossed his arms.

“Just spit it out Wilson.” He groaned.

“You let ride your bike?” Steve spike, still reeling, this time his tone turning hopeful.

“What about it?” He turned defensive.

“Oh, nothing. Never thought she would actually agree to it is all. She’s out of your league.” Sam chuckled, pointing his finger wiggling it between the two of us. I chuckled as Bucky began to fume.

“You’re hilarious. Don’t you have work to do?” He ordered, his tone darkened. It caught me off guard. I watched as Bucky turned heel and began to pack the item into his bike.

“Sure do, Sergeant,” Sam smirked as I watched Bucky stop mid step.

“For the love of god, stop calling me that.” He groaned, craning his head back at the two men. I could watch the interaction silently.

“Nah, it’s funny,” Wilson laughed.

“I still out rank you,” Bucky called over the sound of his engine revving.

“Eat my ass Barnes!” Sam cupped his hands over his mouth. The subsequent Barnes just gave him the finger in return. All the while Steve kept repeating that he let me ride the bike.

What kind of idiots did I befriend.

“Here you go.” Bucky handed me his white and black striped helmet.

“Sergeant?” I asked, a mischievous glint sparkled in my eye. I placed the helmet on my head, finding my place back upon the motorcycle. I could only watch as Bucky rolled his eyes, a faint dusting of pink tint his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a vet. Big whoop.” He said offhandedly, “hang on.” He have the small warning before we sped back into the road and bi-ways.

#beefy bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #biker au #biker #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel

[letsperaltiago]

you’ve stole my heart and made it your own |Jake x Amy|

Dearest, @amystiago <3

I am indeed your secret valentine 2019 and it with immense pleasure that I present to my gift: a Jake x Amy oneshot (and mood board lol) specially written for this occasion and you! “You’re a hot little piece” like 4-drink Amy would say and I’d also like to add that you’re “Cool cool cool cool cool cool”. I hope you have the loveliest Valentine’s day and like the famous Charles Boyle said: “I hope you like it, but if you don’t I will kILL MYSELF.” 

also I looked up SO MANY super cheesy baby and like father/daughter-songs in order to find a title, so it got ver very emotional but yanno anything for you, my love! 

Lots of love and hugs and happiness from me!

xx your not so secret anymore valentine

((btw Sorry for the ugly ass baby photoshop but i couldn’t help myself aha. anyways))

word count: 3.2k

FEBRUARY 14TH, 2021

If you were to ask Amy Santiago just a year ago what the best sound in the world was, she would’ve more than likely replied that it was either the rumble of her developing label maker or just pure, calm silence on a Sunday morning. In no world could she ever deny that she indeed still enjoyed these very specific sounds, yet these days there was something she loved even more. Something else.

As if on cue, a loud high-pitched wail cut through the bedroom’s until then silence. Automatically and actually on cue - it took no longer than one night of being a parent to learn it by heart - Amy turned over and away from where she’d been snuggled into her husband’s warm chest.

“Don’t get up,” a tired mumble from her husband caught her in the act, making her freeze on the spot and throw a glance over her shoulder. Just as she probably did, Jake looked tired; his head was still smushed into his pillow and allowed his messy morning-curls to dance across its white cotton cover. Though they weren’t yet open - his brain more than often awake before the rest of him - she could easily tell that her husband’s eyes were tired. Not just an ‘I hate getting up before 12 on a Sunday’-kind of tired, but more an ‘I hate getting up before 12 on a Sunday since I woke up twice during the night to check on my crying daughter’-kind of tired. There nothing, not even the exhaustion she felt, that could hold back a small smile.

“I have to. Marcy needs me.” In the midst of pushing herself off and away from the comfort of the mattress, Amy felt her husband’s familiar arms grab her waist before tumbling to a rest in his arms.

“I need you too,” his tired grumble against her ear still caused a shiver to this day. A peck, trying to convince her to stay, followed behind. In vain though it was very tempting to give in. 

“Jake-“

A heavy sigh caused his chest to push against her back, implicitly letting her know that he knew she was right. “I know… But stay in bed, okay? I’ll get her.”

Not that she wanted to object to this but before she even had the chance, it was Jake’s turn to push himself away from his spouse and roll out of bed. Amy secretly loved that their 3-month old daughter was pretty much the only thing that could get him out of bed this fast. It seemed like such a drastic contrast to the nervous Jake that one year ago had freaked out wondering if he could live up to the big role that was a father’s. Not that Amy blamed him for these specific feelings, since they rooted in something so complex and difficult as Jake’s own dad being mostly absent and a scum for most of his son’s childhood. Even considering this - history, feelings, uncertainty - she never actually doubter her husband; not for a second. From the way his eyes had both lit and teared upon in response to her announcement of the pregnancy, Amy had always been sure of one thing and this still applied today: Jake Peralta loved his daughter more than anything else in the world, and handled it with as much humbleness, patience and love as possible after only 3 months of experience. It was safe to say that Amy was beyond proud.

“Hey, Marcipan,” the sound of her husband’s cooing voice as he rounded the corner of their bed snapped Amy out of her thoughts and back into reality. In front of her, by the bassinet placed against the wall parallel to her side of the bed, Jake appeared wearing only his boxers and a ‘Die Hard’ t-shirt which was at least a size or two to big for him. He swiftly reached out to switch on a tiny night light, which sat on the wall above the little one’s bed.

“Stop calling her that,” Amy chuckled tiredly as he leaned down over the bassinet to carefully pick up the little human, before cradling her in his arms and turning back around to face his wife. Gosh, Amy would never get tired of the sight of it. Maybe also why she happened to have at least a 1000 new photos on her phone proving just this point alone. Thank goodness Terry had advised her to upgrade her amount cloud storage. “She’s gonna grow up thinking she’s an almond-confection.”

Jake had to chuckle even and shoot a though his daughter was still letting it be known that she wanted some kind of attention by whimpering in his arms, “Are you denying the fact that my daughter is sweet enough to eat?”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head was not uncommon in the Peralta-Santiago household and so this comment would not slip by as unnoticed either. “That’s not what I meant. And your daughter? Says the guy who said, and I quote, “Before sunrise she’s your daughter” just a few days ago.”

“Hey! I thought it would be really cool to quote Mufasa, okay? He was a great dad.”

Another roll of the eyes seemed appropriate. “Worth it?”

Amy might’ve been sarcastic, but Jake totally beamed with joy at the thought of the dark 4 AM-wake last week, where he’d delivered the iconic line when his daughter had woken them up with a fuzzy sounds and small whimpers.

FLASHBACK — PREVIOUS WEEK

Amy had immediately reacted at the sound like set to autopilot. Hoping that it was just a one of daughter’s short ‘fuzzy moments’, where she’d fuzz around for a few moments before eventually falling back to sleep without further complaints, Amy decided to stay put where she was currently resting with her upper body on top of her husband’s rising and falling chest. One of his arms was protectively wrapped slouched around across her back whilst the other was stretched out to the side across the empty part of the mattress.

Silence did not ensue the fuzz though, but instead a loud wail-turned-cry. Amy loved her daughter to pieces, but exhausted could not describe what the mother felt after having woken up just an hour ago to feed.

“Jake…” The name barely came out as an actual word and more in the resemblance of an animalistic sound. Emphasising that she wished to stay where she was, Amy scooted herself in deeper into his chest.

“Hmmm…” His mumble let her know that he was definitely in deeper sleep than her.

“Marcy s’wake.” It might’ve seemed like just an obvious statement from her part, which it to some extent was, but also more importantly a hint.

“Hmm ’know.”

After another few seconds of not moving, neither of them, Amy figured she had to vocalise her intentions. “Check on her… Please…”

“Before sunrise she’s your daughter.” Jake didn’t have to open his eyes to know that this had caught his wife’s attention - fully awake or not - and definitely wasn’t pleased with the timing of his Disney-reference. The always quirky and bantering aspect of their relationship definitely hadn’t dissolved because of Marcy, but there was now a sense of time and place that needed to be considered: a pitch dark February morning at 4 AM was not an exception and Jake knew.

“Jake…” Though she wasn’t in on the joke, Amy’s mumble definitely sounded like the one of a displeased lioness, which was kinda hot to Jake but then again: time and place.

“Yeah.” Well-knowing that it was only fair that he got up for this one, very aware of all the hard mommy-hours Amy put in these days even though taking care of Marcy was very equally balanced between the two of them, Jake lazily leaned down to peck his wife’s forehead before gently slipping out from beneath her. “Show me going.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

END OF FLASHBACK

“Though I do not stand by what the quote stands for, I do not regret saying it.”

Marcy’s cries grew louder - completely drowning out everything else - letting her parents know that enough was enough. Actually so much that her cries turned in to straight up howling. Jake’s attention was immediately redirected back to his daughter, concern showing on his face as he kissed her forehead and made his way over to Amy.

“Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s right here. You hungry?”

Having already propped herself up onto her elbow, Amy pushed away the duvet to welcome her crying daughter into her arms before carefully placing her on the mattress by her chest. “Hey now, Marce. We’re gonna settle that hungry tummy. Just give mommy a second.” Duty called and Amy skilfully pulled up her NYPD-shirt to reveal the nethermost breast before cradling the soft back of her daughter’s head in order to lead her. Behind her, she could feel the mattress dipping under the weight of her husband as he got back under their shared duvet meanwhile a fuzzy Marcy’s head was uncontrollably and unsuccessfully rummaging the area around her mother’s nipple only growing more and more angry; the crying growing more desperate.

“Marcy,” the mother softly cooed as she tried to guide her daughter to where she needed to be. “It’s right there, baby. No need to get angry.”

Jake could only scoot in close to his wife’s back, watching the scene unfold in front of him with dreamy eyes. This - the same exact thing - had happened countless time by now since a 3-month old ate a billion times a day. Yet Jake’s chest never ceased to burst every time he watched his amazing wife take her time with their little one. It seemed banal but it was truly one of his favourite things ever. Nothing or no one else could compare these days.

As a contrast as strong as night and day, the family bedroom was suddenly drenched in complete silence; cries replaced by the gentle slurps and sound of Marcy sucking. A sigh of relief and calmness coming from the very bottom of Amy’s chest seemed heavily appropriate.

“She finally found it,” chuckled Jake, placing an arm around his wife’s chest to hold her while he stroked his daughter’s feet with hands that made the tiny vessel of life seem even smaller. Some would maybe call it banal but to Jake there was nothing more amazing that this. This right here. His best friend and wife quietly breastfeeding their daughter. He still remembered the first time he experienced and felt that slight clench of bliss in his chest oh so clearly.

FLASHBACK - NOVEMBER 10TH, 2020

Overwhelmed was probably the most suiting word as Jake planted a long, tender kiss to his wife’s sweaty forehead to accompany his hand which was holding her firmly while a loud wailing engulfed the room. The wail belonged to his probably not more than 1 minute old daughter: Marcia Santiago-Peralta. The little bean he’d been talking to through Amy’s womb was now a whole, tiny, living human. She was here.

“I’m so proud of you,” his voice was strained with tears just like his eyes as he spoke those words into his wife’s forehead, meaning every syllable more than anything else he’d ever previously said. He always knew that his wife was a total badass - even before they’d started dating - but tonight was the most solid proof. No one needed to tell him that he’d never be able to do what she’d just done. “You’re amazing. I love you so much, Ames.”

Though not letting go of her hand, Jake pulled back to look down at his obviously exhausted by also glowing, always stunning teary-eyed wife and now mom. Her chest was still heaving in attempt to catch up with the breathing she’d completely lost to the last 10 hours of screaming, groaning, crying and pushing - sometimes all of those simultaneously. Not going to lie, Jake had to admit that he’d been rather emotionally unstable during those 10 hours. On the other hand he did managed to keep it inside and be over the top attentive, calm and collected on the outside for Amy’s sake.

“I love you so much too, babe,” she let go of his hand in order to reach up and cup then stroke his cheek with her trembling thumb. Her body was still in an incoherent state of both exhaustion and adrenaline rushing through her, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Nothing else. “She’s here.”

Brighter, even brighter than when she agreed to marry him, Jake smiled and gave off a weak nod. This woman was indeed his sun and his moon, his everything, and now together they’d created a little star. The feeling seemed beyond words.

“Here she comes.” The voice immediately caused both parents’ heads to snap out of their moment and in the direction of the smiling nurse who walked towards them with their crying daughter. Looking back it seemed rather morbid, but right in that moment there was no sound more beautiful than those cries. Next thing he knew Marcia was resting stomach down on her mother’s chest. Amy’s hands immediately and instinctively wrapped theirselves around her - one supporting her bottom as the other carefully held and stroked her head - before leaving down to kiss the soft top.

“Hi, baby,” she addressed the little human calmly through the loud crying in an attempt to soothe both Marcy and herself. “No need to cry. Mommy is here and she loves you so so much.”

Jake carefully leaned down, resting a hand on his daughter’s back before carefully pecking the spot Amy had previously kissed. “Welcome, Marcy,” he sniffed, trying to compose himself before continuing to speak, ”I’m your daddy.”

Another few beats of cries, tears and loving words mingled in the room before the same nurse who’d brought them Marcy politely interrupted them. “I think it’s time for you to feed her, Amy. She’s probably hungry and it’ll also calm her down.”

Amy listened carefully, looking up at the nurse from her sitting position in her bed with attentive doe-eyes as the process was briefly explained to her. Jake’s hand was on her shoulder know, gently rubbing it as he felt his wife tense when the nurse told her to go ahead and push up her shirt. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Hey,” he pecked the shell reassuringly. “You’ll do fine, Ames. The worst is behind us. I’m right here.”

After randomly choosing a side and pushing up the shirt, too focused to actually vocally answer and instead just nodding, Amy carefully - as if she was handling fine china - placed their daughter horizontally against her chest and followed the nurses instruction. Marcy was still crying hysterically, squirming discontentedly when Amy cupped the back of her head, holding it still and guiding it towards the bare nipple which she was told to stabilise with her free hand. All at once it seemed overwhelming and clumsy to Amy, especially when the baby kept crying and missing the goal. But Jake could only sit in his chair, which he’d pulled as close to the bed as possible, and stare with admiration.

The need to cry definitely didn’t grow smaller. “Shh shh, Marcy. It’s okay, baby. I’m trying to help you,” Amy cooed.

Suddenly a contrasting silence engulfed the room. Wide smiles grew on both of the new parents’ faces. “Jake! She’s sucking! She got it!” Amy chuckled with relief, once again teary eyed as she snapped her head in the direction of her already looking husband.

Slowly as to not interrupt Jake reached across the edge of the bed to stroke his daughter’s head. She’d only been around for a couple of minutes but somehow Jake couldn’t get enough of her. He just wanted to touch and hold her forvever. “She’s brilliant...” Then he turned his gaze towards his wife who couldn’t stop looking down at what was happening right there in her arms.

She must’ve noticed because suddenly she tore her eyes away from her daughter to instead look at her husband. A fond silence and stare was shared between the two, lasting for who knows how long, before Jake decided to finish his sentence. “Brilliant just like her mom.”

END OF FLASHBACK

“Yeah,” Amy’s voice clearly smiled. After making sure her daughter was indeed properly installed and comfortable, the mother allowed her arm and head to lie back down onto the pillow, yet still keeping her hand on the back of the baby’s head. Her fingers, including both her engagement and wedding ring, softly stroked the soft skin and feathery, tiny hairs. A beat of a moment later Amy could feel her husband settling down behind her properly, keeping her close, and gently placing his head on top of hers. Together in silence they took in the miracle in front of them. Nothing better than this little miracle of life had ever been given to them. The quiet suckling went on, working as a calming sound machine for the tired parents whose eyelids were heavy as yet they couldn’t get themselves to close them just yet. Amy felt a press of lips against the side of her neck.

“Happy Valentine’s day. I love you so much,” followed behind, soaking into the skin of his wife’s neck in the form of a muffled promise. “Not just today, but also all the days before and all the days forever after.”

Shivers of pure love and happiness went through Amy’s entire body.

“I love you too. So very much…”

Without bothering their daughter, Amy emphasised her response by twisting her back to the side to look at Jake. Meeting her halfway, their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss that contain all the love in the world. Not only for each other, but for their daughter and family as well. When pulling back, Jake took a moment to take in his wife’s tired but nonetheless always beautiful features. His eyes reflected the light from the still switched on night light, only emphasising the stars of adoration that already shined within them.

“We’ve obviously had other priorities lately, so I haven’t had the time to plan anything this year… But if you’re up for it I’d be more than willing to work something out?” Jake spoke, carefully keeping his voice at a reasonable level. While he did love his daughter more than anything, he also loved ‘mommy and daddy-time’, which was basically only an option when their little one was either asleep or eating. Or both. It was all about seizing the little moment before it was too late.

A beat of a paused let him know that she was thinking, only to be interrupted by her daughter’s mouth slipping off her mother’s nipple. Small whimpers of frustration immediately began to grow. Luckily the mother’s hand was quick to lead her daughter back on track, silencing her once again. Amy smiled to herself in content then twisted her neck to somewhat face her husband again.

“Jake… It’s okay. I’m completely content with this. I don’t need anything else today or any day ever. This is the perfect Valentine’s day. Thank you.”

#b99valentines2019 #valentines 2019 #peraltiago #jake x amy #jake and amy #peraltiago fanfiction #peraltiago fanfic #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #amy santiago

[katzuyas]

when I’m next to you I’m home

for @domesticvictuuriweek day 6, prompt: closeness rating: t

It was hard to get their different schedules to align, but they somehow did it: Victor walked Makkachin in the mornings while Yuuri made breakfast and lunch; till midday Yuuri practiced his programs, jumps and spins under Victor's watchful eye and then, afterwards, he left for ballet practice while Yakov wrangled Victor back into shape; and in the evenings, twice a week, they hit the gym so Yuuri could praise Victor's strength as he bench pressed weights more than his own and Victor – so he could try really hard not to drool at Yuuri's thighs and imagine how it felt to crawl between them every night.

It wasn't ideal, Victor would complain. They didn't spend as much time together as he'd like, but it was what worked for them. Which was why it was so surprising for him to come home and find 1) Yuuri nowhere in sight, and 2) Yurio sprawled on their couch, playing a game on his phone.

A step into the door, Victor blinked, confused.

"Yurio! What are you doing here?" he asked, already being accosted by an excited Makkachin who attacked him with 'welcome home' smooches. Laughing, Victor knelt down to hug him and give him all the scratches he was so starved for. "Where's Yuuri?"

"Now that you're here, I'm going home," Yurio said.

There was a disgruntled edge to his voice. Victor looked up to see a mighty scowl on his face like it happened so often. This time, though, it was edging on worried, and the same worry instantly settled in Victor's heart. Before he could ask, Yurio was speaking again:

"The idiot's got a fever," he bit out. "Almost fainted in practice. I had to haul his ass all the way here, so make sure he lives or I'll bring him back to life just so I can kick him over to the other side myself."

"Wait, you mean Yuuri?" Victor asked, moving out of the way when Yurio pushed past him to grab his jacket and tug on his shoes. "He's sick? Why didn't he tell me? And why didn't you call me?"

Yurio shrugged. "I gave him some pills, he's sleeping now. You better call Yakov if you're gonna skip practice, I don't want him chewing my head off tomorrow."

He gave Makkachin's head a single pat and was out of the door, leaving Victor to recover from the shock all on his own. Victor turned from the doorway with a worried frown. Yuuri was sick and he never said a word about it. Sucking in an breath on the verge of exasperation, Victor pursed his lips, kicked off his shoes and, on the way to the bedroom, threw his coat over the back of the couch with such force it tumbled off on the other side... not that he noticed. Or cared.

All the anger he'd built up during his short powerwalk disappeared the moment he saw Yuuri. Among the white sheets, Yuuri's face looked red and sweaty, broken with fever. His mouth was open, gasping for breath in his quiet suffering. But more than that, what struck Victor's heart with a warm arrow of love and dispersed the last of his upset, was the way Yuuri had nuzzled his face into Victor's pillow: fragile and longing for Victor's comfort even when he was all but unconscious.

How could Victor stay mad when Yuuri needed him?

"Oh, my love," Victor cooed, coming around the bed to sit at Yuuri's side. He brushed Yuuri's sweaty hair off his forehead. His skin burned. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

Yuuri stirred, as if Victor's voice had woken him, as if his touch gave him some clarity. Brown, bleary eyes blinked open slowly. Victor knew that without his contacts or glasses Yuuri could only see blurry colours and shapes, which must have been even worse with the haze of the fever. He crooned softly in concern to which Yuuri responded with a groan so pained that Victor couldn't help but bend to press his lips to his searing temple.

"I want to die," Yuuri mumbled.

He sounded hoarse, broken, and Victor's heart tightened. He softly stroked Yuuri's hair.

"You'll be alright, my Yuuri," he said. "It's just a fever. It'll break soon and then you'll be happy you lived through it."

Yuuri's nose scrunched up. He closed his eyes and simply breathed for a few moments, before he repeated: "Just let me die."

Victor's lips quirked in a smile. "Not on my watch, sweetheart."

There was no response from Yuuri as if he'd fallen asleep again, but when Victor stood up to wet some clean cloth to help fight the fever, Yuuri's voice stopped him.

"Victor?"  

He sounded confused, a little lost, like he wasn't fully aware of what was happening and only now realized that Victor was even there. Victor smiled to himself a little, touched his knuckles to Yuuri's red, hot cheek, and asked:

"Yes, Yuuri?"

Blindly, Yuuri reached for Victor's hand and took it. His lips were as hot as his skin when he pressed them to Victor's fingers, but the gesture was sweet anyway. Victor would've cooed if not for the raspy, harsh breathing that was coming from Yuuri. His poor, darling Yuuri...

"I love you," Yuuri mumbled into the pillow, still holding Victor's hand and bringing it to rest next to his face as he curled on himself and slipped back into sleep.

Victor knelt next to the bed, careful not to move the hand Yuuri was cradling. For just a moment, he told himself while he sat back, watching Yuuri's face as Yuuri slipped back into sleep. He gently turned their hands around to leave a kiss on Yuuri's knuckles as well. Yuuri didn't stir this time, and he didn't stir when Victor let go a few minutes later either.

For just a moment, Victor reminded himself.

He grabbed all that he needed, did all that he had to do, and then returned to his Yuuri, sitting right there beside him: on the floor, holding Yuuri's hand, with his cheek smushed on the edge of the mattress.

In the morning, when the fever broke completely, Victor was woken up with tender fingers threading through his hair and Yuuri's eyes looking down at him with fondness as hot as his fever had burned through the night. Victor's ass hurt, his back hurt, his neck had a kink to it from how it was twisted as he slept at a weird, horrible angle, but when Yuuri pressed another "I love you," into Victor's temple, Victor could not even begin to regret it. It was more than worth it.

#domesticvictuuriweek #victuuri #victuri #vikturi #viktuuri #yuri on ice #my fic #I'm so tired today I barely got enough eye power to edit this #so pls forgive me if I missed something #I want a sweetheart like vitya to take care of me too ;u;

[leigh-kelly]

(More Hospital!AU)

Had she made the decision knowing that she’d be nearly five months pregnant with twins, and growing wider by the day, Santana never would have agreed to present research at a pediatric and neonatal surgery conference in Phoenix. She doesn’t do conferences often, not like Brittany, who is so prolific in her field that she travels at least once a month, but she does consider her occasional invitation a real badge of honor. Still though, the idea of waddling down the aisle of an airplane, being away from home for three days, and having even more trouble than normal sleeping in a hotel bed isn’t exactly appealing to her.

The week before she’s set to leave, Santana buys maternity clothes. She definitely didn’t think she’d need them so early, but even the most roomy of her professional clothes have become tight around her middle, and she refuses to look stuffed like a sausage in a room full of surgeons. So she goes out on her lunch hour, and she buys whatever she can find, figuring she’ll just return anything that doesn’t look good on her.

That night, after Liam is asleep, Santana goes up to the bedroom to try everything on. When Brittany comes in, she’s shy about modeling for her, still getting used to the changes in her body. Besides her ever growing belly, her face has gained weight, and her breasts feel massive, but Brittany gives her soft, adoring smiles. Brittany compliments her curves, Brittany kisses her and strokes her sides when she’s in between outfits, standing in just her bra and high-waisted maternity panties. Brittany makes her feel beautiful, even when she may not feel that way on her own.

The night before she leaves, Brittany makes love to her long and slow. Given her increased libido, Santana knows she’s trying to leave her sated while she’s gone, and she lies back, prone on the sheets as Brittany kisses every inch of her body. She threads her fingers through Brittany’s hair, and then she kneels at the edge of the bed while Brittany spreads her own legs, the most comfortable position now for Santana when she wants to go down on her wife for as long as she possibly can.

Because Brittany has to work, Santana takes a cab to the airport. Brittany and Liam hug and kiss her goodbye on the curb, and Liam hugs her belly tight, giving Santana a picture for them babies. It’s a struggle, but she doesn’t cry. She’s not quite there yet, losing all control of her emotions, but it’s getting closer, and she’s trying to prolong it for as long as possible. In the cab, she gets car sick, though she doesn’t throw up, but frankly, she’s beyond concerned about getting air sick and having to maneuver down the aisle of the plane and sink to her knees in the tiny bathroom to vomit.

When she checks in at the airport, she’s surprised when the woman at the desk tells her she’s been upgraded to first class. Though she’d considered it herself, she thought it was ridiculous to spend the money, and figured she’d be fine with coach. Smiling to herself, even the whole way through security, when she finally has her shoes back on and her computer tucked back in her bag, she digs out her phone, and sends Brittany a text message.

You really didn’t have to do that, Britt. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love that you did. She sends, shoving the phone back in the pocket of her elastic waisted jeans.

Heading into surgery. But I didn’t do anything? The reply comes quickly, and Santana furrows her brow.

You didn’t upgrade my ticket?

I didn’t. But now I wish I did!

Hmm, I guess it was just the airline. Okay, I love you. I’m boarding soon. Good luck in surgery, call you when I land.

Love you too, and give those babies a kiss for me.

Though she knows she might regret it when she has to pee ten minutes into her flight, Santana grabs a cup of coffee before she wheels her carry on down the jetway. As soon as she boards the plane, she sees a blonde grinning at her from the seat beside her in first class, and she has to laugh, shaking her head as the man across the aisle stands up to help her stow her bag in the overhead bin.

“Hey sweet cheeks!” Holly Holiday grins. “Took you long enough. Hope you like your upgrade.”

“That was you?”

“Come on, I couldn’t handle sitting up here all by myself when I knew you were shoving that basketball sized abdomen in the back of the plane. Shelby told me you were on my flight, so I took it upon myself to get some company.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Santana ducks her head sheepishly, settling into the aisle seat. “Really.”

“Please.” She waves her off. “Least I could do for my favorite peds surgeon.”

“Well, considering I figured I’d be fine when I decided not to change my ticket, and this morning I was kind of dreading coach, I seriously appreciate it.”

“Lopez, every time I see you running around the hospital like you’re not lugging two kids with you, I’m impressed.” Holly sits back in her seat, buckling herself in. “So how’s your presentation looking?”

“Good. I finished it last night. I figured I might pass out on the plane, so I didn’t want to leave anything up to chance.”

“Mind if I have a look?” She raises her eyebrows, with an excitement that only another surgeon would have. “Or do you not want to spoil the surprise?”

“Here.” Santana laughs, taking her iPad out of her briefcase and opening up the document containing it. “Enjoy reading about localized radiation in conjunction with ependymoma removal.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I will.”

Despite the coffee, Santana falls asleep a half hour into the flight. She feels really bad that she doesn’t have it in her to stay up and talk to Holly, but she didn’t sleep well last night knowing that she’d be leaving, and honestly, hefting around her added weight makes her more exhausted than she could have ever imagined.

When she wakes up, they’re landing in Phoenix, and she shares a car with Holly out to the hotel where the conference is being held. While she’d really love to go up to her room and stay on FaceTime with Brittany and Liam until she falls asleep, she insists on taking Holly to an early dinner after they check in. She appreciates the company, and she knows Brittany does too, worried that she’d be anxious alone and pregnant far from home, but by the time they’re done talking about Holly’s keynote address and Santana’s future plans, she’s ready to turn in for the night.

It’s just about Liam’s bedtime when she gets upstairs, and Santana takes a quick shower and changes into her pajamas before she gets them on the phone. They’re snuggled in his bed, and Santana feels a pang, missing them terribly already. She doesn’t know how Brittany manages to do this all the time, she doesn’t know how she can handle the travel and the hotel rooms and he being away, but she does it, and Santana gives her so much more credit than she can begin to express.

“Mommy Noodle!” Liam smushes his face against the screen. “You can read me the Crayon book! Mama didn’t read it yet, okey?”

“Oh, you know the crayon book is my favorite.” Santana laughs, settling back in her pillows. “I need Mama to hold the pages where I can see them, okay?”

“Okey! Okey! I am ready!”

Resting her phone on her belly, Santana reads The Day the Crayons Quit in its entirety, even though Liam falls asleep three-quarters of the way through. When she’s done, Brittany holds the phone, just letting her watch him sleep for a few moments, and she sighs heavily.

“Are you alright, Santana?” Brittany whispers, tucking Liam in and turning out his lights.

“Mmhm, just…wish I were home.”

“We wish you were too.” Santana watches Brittany turn the lights on in the bedroom, and set the phone down on the dresser so she can unbutton her blouse.

“Not helping.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to step out of the view of the phone so you don’t have to watch.”

“Don’t you dare.” She leans back in bed and crosses her legs at the ankles. “If I have to sleep alone, I at least want to watch you undress.”

“Anything that makes you happy, Santana.”

It’s possible that Santana gets a little carried away watching Brittany undress. Though she decides not to touch herself, instead, laying her iPad on the pillow beside her so she can fall asleep with Brittany, she wakes up in the middle of the night after an extremely vivid sex dream. Her hormones have run wild, she knows that, and considering the dream involved Brittany bending her over her desk at work, something she would never even consider, they seem to be even worse away from her wife.

The next morning, she’s exhausted from her fitful sleep, but she gets dressed slowly, making sure that her maternity skirt and blouse look normal on her. She’s a little nervous, even though she’s not speaking until tomorrow, she’s a little…embarrassed of how heavily pregnant she looks, and the idea that it will draw unwanted attention toward her, but there’s nothing she can do about it. She is gestating twins, and they—and she—gets bigger every day.

She takes over a hundred pages of notes, until her fingers cramp like they used to in medical school, but she loves to absorb information. She loves the idea of getting better and better and better in her field. Being a great doctor is one of the things she’s most proud of, one of the only things she managed to accomplished on her own, and as exhausted as she is, she’s thoroughly enjoying all the learning she’s doing.

After the day’s events are over, she goes to the cocktail party and sips ginger ale from a wineglass. Though she’s itching to get to bed, she fully takes in conversation with the greats in pediatrics that take the time to talk to her, peppering medical conversations with questions about her pregnancy, and from those who have been there, tips on how to handle surgeries as she gets increasingly bigger.

Liam is asleep when she gets back to the hotel room, but she FaceTimes Brittany, falling asleep again with her on the pillow beside her. The next morning, she’s an absolute wreck. She feels like her skirt is too tight and her blouse shows too much cleavage, so she tugs at herself the whole way down to the conference room, finally deciding to button her blazer and just…deal with it.

When she gets up to the podium, Holly gives her a thumbs up from the fifth row, and she bites her lip, smiling at how much she feels like a third grader saying the Pledge of Allegiance at a school assembly. That’s how she gets sometimes at things like this, like she’s a little fish in a very big pond. But she measures her tone, she articulates and projects, she avoids reading off the prompter as much as she possibly can, and she smiles, because she is proud of her work, even if she’s just a young doctor at the very start of her career.

There is applause when she finishes, and Santana waits until she’s off the stage to unbutton the constricting blazer. She goes back to her seat in the rear of the room, and when, after two more hours, they finally break for lunch, Santana feels a tap on the back of her neck. At first, she’s annoyed, already hot and prickly, even in the air conditioner, and never one to favor her personal space being violated, but when she turns her head, she gasps, and feels tears spring to her eyes like some kind of lunatic.

“How did you…? When did you…? You’re here.”

“I’m here.” A smile spreads across Brittany’s face, and professional decorum be damned, Santana wraps her arms around her wife as people mull around them, and feels her whole body relax. “You did an amazing job.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. Britt—”

“I hope it’s okay that I am, I wanted to surprise you, and maybe steal you away for a little babymoon in Sedona when your conference is over tonight.”

“Of course it’s okay you’re here. It’s…basically the best thing ever. And you really want to take me on a babymoon?”

“I do. I didn’t change anything, in case you want to go home in the morning, but, Liam is with your mom for the weekend, so whatever you’d like to do, you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Wow.” Santana breathes, a rush of…so many different emotions hitting her all at once. “That sounds really good. And…I think I’d rather go to Sedona than go right home. I was only in a rush to get back to the concrete jungle, where I feel like I might die of heatstroke every time I step out of the house, when you were there.”

“There’s a spa resort there which supposedly has amazing prenatal services. I’d love if you let me have you pampered all weekend.”

“Britt?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously, why are you like this? Why do you treat me so well?”

“Because I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy and relaxed, and to feel at peace.”

“Thank you. For everything you do, every single day.”

After Santana grabs a quick sandwich for lunch, she gives Brittany the key to her hotel room, so she can pack her things, and sits through the remainder of the conference, still furiously taking notes, though she’s thrilled by the idea of her surprise getaway with Brittany. Before she leaves the conference center, Santana finds Holly, and she thanks her profusely for her plane ticket, for introducing her to some of her prolific friends, and for overall just being a mentor and a support system. Of course, as always, it’s in the back of Santana’s mind that she still may want to pursue neonatology someday, but she knows right now isn’t the time. When it comes though, she’s sure Holly will be the first to know.

Brittany is in the lobby when Santana gets there, and she feels such a surge of emotion when she sees her. It stays with her through checkout, and even when she’s settled in the passenger seat of the car Brittany rented, it doesn’t subside. There’s just something about the way Brittany loves her that she doesn’t think she’ll ever get over. Something about knowing there is someone who will love and support and protect her no matter what that settles her in such a visceral way.

She doesn’t sleep for the entire drive to Sedona. She leans her head against the window, rests her hands on her swollen abdomen, and she watches how Brittany drives so carefully on unfamiliar roads. She’s beautiful in the glow of synthetic light, she’s beautiful always, and Santana sighs, amazed that she gets to spend the rest of her life with her.

Though she still has a perpetual ache between her thighs from whatever it is the hormones are doing to her, she’s too exhausted to do any more than crawl into Brittany’s arms under the softest hotel sheets she’s ever slept on. She closes her eyes and lays like that, listening to the sound of Brittany’s heart, feeling the soft stroke of fingertips through her long, loose hair and over the swell of her belly. It has only been two nights since she slept in her arms, but it had felt like an eternity, and now, now she’s comforted in a way that lets her sleep soundly through the night.

In the morning, Brittany has breakfast delivered to the room. Santana leans against the headboard of the bed, and smiles as Brittany brings her avocado toast and hard cooked eggs. Brittany sits cross-legged across from her, and Santana has to lean over to kiss her, pressing her forehead into her wife’s, and holding the side of her face. She’s filled with emotion, she’s always filled with emotion these days, but this is the good kind, the kind that makes her want to close her eyes and wish that she’ll always feel this happy.

“I think I’m getting spoiled by you.” She smiles against her mouth. “The kids are going to come out rotten.”

“Stop.” Brittany laughs, running her hand over the top of Santana’s bump. “They’re just seeing what love is very early on. Can I…”

“Mmhm.” Santana nods, lifting up her shirt. She’s sensitive about it, being touched and kissed where she feels so…different, but she always tries to let Brittany experience everything with her, she always tries not to clam up and deny Brittany every part of this pregnancy. “Go ahead.”

“Hello, sweet babies.” Shuffling down so she’s laying on her belly with her legs kicked up behind her, Brittany places soft kisses below Santana’s naval. “Look how big you’re getting in there.”

“I feel like they’re really tiny humans now, Britt. Ten inches, that’s like…we could hold them in our hands. I just hate that I can’t feel them moving yet, I feel like it’s really late, and it weirds me out.”

“They’re probably just really snug in there, Santana. You’re so tiny.”

“I don’t feel tiny anymore. I look like I’m about to give birth any day.”

“Halfway there.” Brittany smiles, kissing up Santana’s torso until she reaches her lips. “And another scan in a few weeks.”

“I still can’t decide if I want to know the sex or not. I mean, I feel like nothing can shock me more than finding out there were two in there, but I don’t know if I want to wait until they’re born for another.”

“You know I’m okay with either choice. I’m just so glad that they’re healthy, and you’re healthy.” She smiles, tenderly pulling down Santana’s shirt. “We haven’t really talked about your anxiety though.”

“I’m…getting there, I think. I’m still a little, I don’t know, freaked, but I don’t feel that same pervasive sense of fear that I did at first. I guess it was just unexpected. If we’d done a multiple embryo transfer, then I would have been prepared for the possibility, you know? But having it split, and…identicals. I mean, what if I can’t tell them apart and I’m a horrible mother? Remember that episode of Full House, where they mixed up the twins.”

“Honey.” Brittany stifles a laugh. “I don’t think mixing them up will make you a horrible mother. I happen to know first hand that you are such a good mom. And yeah, maybe we might get confused a little at first, but we’ll know them. They’re ours.”

“That’s still kind of crazy to me.”

They take their time getting ready. When Brittany tells Santana she has a couples massage scheduled for them at noon, Santana puts on a pair of leggings and a loose fitting top, her pregnancy uniform, she teases, and Brittany hugs her close, kissing the top of her head. They go down to the spa, and though Santana really is hesitant about a stranger touching her naked body, she relaxes at the sound of the music, the smell of lavender salts, and the idea that Brittany is only a few feet away from her.

She nearly falls asleep on the table, belly in a protective cradle through the hole there. The masseuse works knots out of her lower back that didn’t even know she had, and she breathes in and out, in and out, focusing on the health of herself and her babies. She assumes they’re close to done, when a strange sensation washes over her, and she feels a push in her abdomen. At first, terror hits her hard and fast, but then…she realizes what’s happening. Then, she realizes that though she’s yet to feel even the slightest twinge of movement inside of her, one of the babies is nudging and she sits up with a start.

“Santana?” Brittany mirrors her motions on the other table with alarm, startling her masseuse. “Are you alright?”

“I…can you just…” She shakes her head, and Brittany is at her side in an instant, accepting the towel that is handed to her, and covering Santana with it before she grabs another. “Just…here.”

“Where?”

“Here. Hold your hand here. I think…I think I felt something.”

“Okay, alright.” Brittany presses her hand gently where Santana shows her. Santana closes her eyes, tries to bring herself back to the same state of being that caused it to happen the first time, and she waits, putting her hand over Brittany’s.

It doesn’t happen again, and Santana feels a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wanted Brittany to feel it, she wanted her to get to experience it, and she flutters her lashes, trying to clear away the tears she knows are forming there. Brittany can always tell when her heart sinks, and she leans forward, kissing her forehead softly.

“We still have a lot of time, honey. I’ll feel it, don’t worry.”

“No, I know, I just…whatever, it’s dumb, and I’m hormonal.” Santana waves her off, not wanting this to be a thing. “This is a really good massage, Britt. Thank you.”

Santana lays back on the table, and tries to relax again as she finishes her massage. There’s no more kicking, which she actually is glad for, not wanting to set herself up for disappointment if Brittany misses it again. When they’re finished, they get pedicures, and really, considering the insanity of her work week, coupled with wanting to spend time at home with Liam, she can’t actually remember the last time she had one. But since she can’t bend to paint her nails anymore, it’s actually the perfect thing, and while the pedicurist scrubs her feet and paints her toes, she takes Brittany’s hand and squeezes it in her lap.

After they’re done with that, the drive up to see the red rock formations, and they walk for awhile, Santana consuming excessive amounts of water to avoid dehydrating. The quiet is nice, and when they have an late lunch in a restaurant, Santana knows she’s making moon eyes across the table at her. This is the first time they’ve ever really been away alone together, not counting Santana’s surgery, and then their one night in the hotel room right after she found out she was pregnant. And as much as Santana loves having Liam with them all the time, there is something really nice about a romantic getaway, where she and Brittany have each other all to themselves.

When they get back to the hotel, Brittany gets in the shower, and Santana can barely wait two minutes before she joins her. She’s needy, and she’s horny, the clingiest of combinations, but when she climbs in behind her, more careful than she’s ever been not to slip, she feels Brittany’s smile, even without seeing her face. She slides her hands over Brittany’s soapy skin, and presses her chin into her back, cupping her small breasts in her hands.

“Well hello there.” Brittany turns slowly, and puts her arm around Santana’s waist. When their nipples brush, even with the swell between them, Santana feels a jolt of arousal, snd Brittany takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “Nothing better than being surprised in the shower by my naked wife.”

“If I wasn’t afraid of slipping and dying, I’d probably have to take you up against the wall right now.” Santana husks, trailing her fingers over the curve of Brittany’s ass.

“How about you give me five minutes to wash my hair, and you can take me anywhere you want?”

Santana shivers at the thought, and she quickly washes herself, watching as Brittany slowly drags a washcloth between her own legs, smirking and raising her eyebrows as she does. As Brittany’s long blonde hair cascades down her back, suds running from it, Santana has to pinch her thighs together, overcome by the desire to touch her, overcome by the desire to hear her name escape from her lips in the sort of reverence reserved for only her.

They’re barely dry from the shower when Santana takes Brittany’s hand, and leads her over to the turned down bed. When Brittany goes to lay her back, Santana stops her, giving a slight shake of the head, and pressing her shoulders down so she’s sitting at the very edge of the bed. Santana touches her knees, pushing them apart, and when Brittany’s tucked towel falls from her body, Santana sinks to her knees before her.

“Santana.” Brittany whispers, awe in her voice.

“I had a dream about this the other night, and I’ve been dying to do it since then.” She looks into Brittany’s darkened eyes, and she kisses a droplet of water from her thigh.

Every since Santana popped, she’s found it difficult to settle on her belly without losing her breath, but the longing to pleasure Brittany with her mouth has been pervasive. Kneeling before her like this, spreading her legs wider, watching her grow wetter as she kisses and sucks the creamy skin on the side of her thighs is so sexy that she can’t help but slip her left hand between her legs, rubbing herself in slow circles on her clit, as her mouth inches further up toward Brittany’s center. There’s something almost pornographic about this, Santana thinks, especially for her, who spent most of her life fumblingly touching with clothes on, but it’s really sexy, and she can tell by the way Brittany’s eyes drift down to where she touches herself that she thinks so too.

Brittany inches closer to the edge of the bed, and she gently touches the back of Santana’s neck, urging her closer, urging her mouth to her sex. When Santana tastes her, she moans, sending vibrations through Brittany’s body, and coupled with the touching of herself, she’s afraid she might come before she even starts to pleasure Brittany. Her hand between her leg stills, and she sees the slightest headshake from her wife, who smiles.

“Don’t stop.” Brittany breathes. “Watching you is…wow.”

Swallowing hard, Santana wraps her lips around Brittany’s clit and enters herself with two fingers, clenching around them as she does. It’s an almost out of body experience, especially when Brittany gives raspy directions, telling her pretend it’s me, curl your fingers, ugh, your tongue, right there muddling whether she’s talking about Santana’s actions on her own body, or Brittany’s. Santana comes first. She does, usually, and normally it embarrasses her, but Brittany threads her fingers though her hair, and keeps guiding her, throwing her head back and moaning as Santana probes her tongue against her entrance.

Santana can’t stop curling her fingers inside of herself, she can’t stop quivering, and when she finally pushes Brittany over the edge, her whole body quakes with a second powerful orgasm. Brittany grips her side with shaking hands, afraid Santana might fall back. Santana just stares up at her for several moments, taking in the sweat on her brow, her erect nipples, right hand still slowly squeezing a pale breast, the flush that covers her whole body, the look of love and lust and adoration in her eyes.

When Santana finally makes to stand, not able to wait any longer to kiss her wife, to crawl beneath the sheets with her and sleep naked in her arms, a shooting pain stabs at the back of her calf, and she yelps, catching herself on the corner of the bed. Brittany is on her feet in an instant, and she pulls Santana by the waist, eyes coloring in deep concern.

“Santana, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Agh. Fuck. Motherfucking shit.” Santana cries, tears running down her face. “Another stupid fucking charley horse.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” Brittany lifts her gingerly and sets her down on the bed.

“God, this is so not sexy.” Santana pulls her leg up as much as she can, though she can’t get it too close with the orb that protrudes from her. “Fuck. Why the fuck am I taking potassium and magnesium and all of this other crap witch doctor shit if this keeps happening?”

“Baby.” Brittany bites her lip. “Let me rub it out for you.”

“I—” Santana can’t help but laugh, even through her pain, when Brittany begins rubbing her calves. “I thought I took care of that.”

Brittany just chuckles in response, continuing to massage the tightened muscle in Santana’s leg and pepper kisses along her hairline and eyelids until she relaxes. Once she does, she kisses Brittany’s lips, holding the kiss there for a long time, just…needing it. Her breath is still labored from the pain of the spasm, but to kiss Brittany feels good, to kiss Brittany is calming.

“Do you want me to get you water? Or pajamas? Or anything else?” Brittany asks, still concerned with Santana’s wellbeing.

“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head. “Want to lay naked with you and feel you up against me.”

“That’s easy enough.” Brittany smiles, kissing her forehead and shuffling behind Santana, pulling Santana into her arms, and the blanket over them both.

Contentedly, Santana sighs, and tangles her fingers with Brittany, before settling their joined hands below her naval. She likes when they sleep like this, she feels secure and loved, she feels like the babies are secure and loved, with Brittany’s unwavering fortitude, and she closes her eyes, just breathing it in, until the same sensation she’d felt earlier comes back, bubbling low in her belly, and producing a nudge, nudge, nudge just where Brittany’s hand rests.

“Britt, do you—”

“I do.” Brittany sucks in a breath, barely whispering. “They like when you’re laying down.”

“I read that in the book too.” Santana swallows hard. “I wonder which one it is.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? I wonder if you’ll figure out anything about their personalities while they’re still in there.”

“Well one of them is up under my ribs now, so maybe that’s the shy one.”

“That could be.” Brittany moves her hand up under Santana’s breasts and rubs it across there. “Are you shy in there, little one?”

“I love when you talk to them.”

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure how you felt about it, I don’t want to overstep and make you uncomfortable with anything.”

“They’re your babies, Brittany. I know that they’re in my body, but I want you to know that…that you always have the right to just…be here with them, okay?”

“Okay.” A slow smile comes across Brittany’s lips, and she kisses the side of Santana’s head. “I love that.”

#brittana #hospital!au