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sunsetsimon · 7 months

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a couple of dad!simon headcanons ♡

- hello! i'm sun, and this is my new writing account! i haven't written properly in years, so please go easy on me!

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

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☼ simon never imagined having a family of his own. even after the first few years of being together, the thought never crossed his mind. until your best friend had a baby...

your best friend was visiting with her newborn and seeing you holding the baby flipped a switch in his head. you smiled and cooed at him, causing the baby to flash a toothless smile. there was a twinkle in your eye that he hadn’t noticed before and he pictured you glowing so beautifully as you held your own daughter, a mini version of you and him all in one. he didn’t bring it up for weeks as he thought it through himself. was having a family even possible for him? was he just being selfish?

☼ it comes up one day after you notice he’d been unusually quiet while spending time together. he wasn’t the most talkative, but he enjoyed conversations with you, even joking here and there.

“is everything okay, si? you’ve been extra quiet today.”

“hmm, yeah. just been zoning off.” he shrugs, unsure how to approach the subject. he knows you would listen but he doesn’t know how he’d react if your answer was no.

deciding rejection is better than never knowing, he sharply inhales, “have you ever thought about having children?”

the question throws you off, certainly random for a guy who doesn’t speak much of the future. you sit for a second debating your answer, and simon’s chest clenches in anxious anticipation.

“i have a few times, nothing too serious though. it never seems like there’s a good time for us.”

he nods in agreement, “been thinking about it these days. maybe it’s something we can consider.”

☼ needless to say, you both decide after many conversations and more time, that expanding your family is something you’re open to. you stop your contraception soon after and begin trying. he becomes even more attentive, constantly checking in with you and doing plenty of research on how to make your pregnancy easy. he gets you anything you want - whenever you want. and back and foot massages become part of your everyday routine.

☼ recognizes that he won't always be around because of his extremely demanding work. he checks in whenever he can, even writing letters if he has to. it breaks his heart having to miss doctor appointments and weekly milestones with you, but you always know he tries his absolute best for you two.

☼ simon loves skin to skin contact for the first few months. he loves to lay with her against his chest and drift off to the tv while you take a quick shower. he finds himself just watching her a lot, trying to memorize every movement her tiny body makes.

☼ soooo protective. no kisses, no pets, no sick people, doesn’t allow anything that could be of risk near her. he always has the two of you in his sight, preferring to push the stroller as you walk on the side of him.

☼ he's not one to care for style, so you do the main planning for the nursery. he builds all of the furniture for you while you watch. he looks so hot in his grey sweats and a black t-shirt that you can't help but distract him a few times.

☼ it's a hard adjustment for him having to return for a mission after she's born. he spends his entire last day holding and watching her, a sad slouch in his shoulders.

"gonna miss you so much, darlin. i'll be back as soon as i can," he whispers, gently kissing her forehead before handing her back to you. simon's hands grip your waist, pulling you in close to kiss you deeply before resting his forehead against yours. "i need my girls to stay safe. ill update you when i can, dove."

whenever he can, he scrolls though his videos on his phone just to see her face. her eyes twinkle brighter than any star to him and a slight smile creeps under his mask.

☼ relieves you from baby care when he can tell you’re exhausted. sighing and pulling yourself out of bed when crying erupts through the baby monitor. he doesn’t get up at first, but when the crying continues for a minute, he comes to check on you. he pushes the door cracked door open, revealing you desperately hushing and bouncing her in your arms. your eyes are tired and heavy, wishing for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“i got ‘er. go back to bed love,” simon says, taking his baby girl into his arms.

you give him a weak smile and a thankful squeeze at his arm, walking straight to bed without another peep. he holds her close to his chest as he sits down in the chair, propping her neck up as he stares down at her. her eye color matches his, but she resembles you more and more everyday. he’s enamored by her, his beautiful little girl that he created with the love of his life.

she quiets down shortly, falling back asleep in his arms as he rocks her slowly. his own eyes grow heavy, and he sets her down in her crib before returning back to bed. he climbs in behind you, pulling your back to his chest and planting a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“if she wakes up again i’ll take care of it. you just sleep darling,” simon whispers, receiving a hum in response from you as you snuggle into him.

he takes care of his girls so well.

#ugh i want him to be happy so bad #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #dad!simon riley #.wbm

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unholyhelbig · 25 days

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fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

#natasha romanov #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Black widow #Black widow x reader #Scarlet witch #Scarlet witch x reader #Wandanat #Wandanat x reader #Marvel #Jennifer walters #She-hulk

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badingsm · 8 months

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Warnings: really cliché, buncha fluffs, basically giving birth, cursing, and I don't know what else.

Hi bading! Some of you requested, so I delivered 🙌

Here's Mama DADDY Natasha welcoming her baby and her baby baby!

"So, who's the father?" Yelena prodded for the nth time. Being your best friend, she stated that she should be the first to know whose baby it is that you're carrying.

It's been nine months filled with cravings, mood swings, and sleepless nights. Yesterday was supposedly your due date, but all you've got are the usual cramps and pains and still no baby.

As much as you love your soon-to-be child, you cannot wait for this whole pregnancy thingy to be over because of how much discomfort it causes you.

Especially to your back and limbs.

One time, you even cried when you couldn't reach to tie your shoe because of your developed bump, but good thing Natasha was there to help you solve your crisis, even though you snapped at her for seeing her face.

Simply her face.

The one that makes you frustrated when you see it but weirdly sad when you don't.

Yeah, you're really pregnant.

Going back to Yelena.

"No one. I made this myself, so stop being nosy." You scoffed at her, already imagining her face if you ever told her that her older sister—Natasha fucking Romanoff—was the one who got you pregnant in the first place.

"Oh, come on," She whined, flashing her famous frown in hopes that it could make you give in, but she's in no luck as you just raised your brows at her. "If I ever get someone pregnant, I swear, I won't tell you!"

"I'm pretty sure it'll be Bishop anyway." You shrugged nonchalantly, laughing at her gobsmacked expression. "What? Everyone sees it, Belova."

With a huff, she left you alone, probably to hide her blushing cheeks because it made her feel embarrassed.

You were currently in the kitchen with Wanda, watching her bake some cookies, when you felt another contraction coming your way. At the same time the pain arrived, you felt hot liquid gushing down your legs, causing you to look down to see the trickling wet patch in your jeans.

Panic settled in your chest. "Wands, Wands, Wands!"

"Yes, yes, yes?" She joked while mixing the batter in the bowl, still not realizing the state that you're in.

"I think.." You breathed deeply. "I think my water just broke!"

Just like the flash of light, Wanda looked up to see you sweating while you tried to regulate your breath. "Oh, god! Wait, wait, wait—I'll call Yelena!"

You nodded, not being able to form coherent words at that moment because you tried not to panic, but that didn't help because you just realized that Natasha was away on a mission and she probably wouldn't be back for another 3 days.

That thought alone made you whine with a frustrated, pained sigh.

That bastard.

You didn't know how it happened, but the next thing you noticed was that you were in the hospital bed with oxygen attached to your nose, and the doctors and nurses were assisting you.

"Oh.." You clenched your jaw, your face turning red due to the unstoppable force of pain flooding you, "Can you fucking get Romanoff here? If I have to suffer, so does she!"

"Why would you ask for my sister when you're-"

"Just call Natasha!" You yelled impatiently. "And fucking make it fast!"

Yelena was really confused and still hadn't processed everything since her mind was still in panic mode, but she did as she was told, dialing her sister and quickly instructing her to come to the hospital because you're oddly looking for her.

When Natasha heard the news that you were about to give birth, she didn't think twice about abandoning the mission and driving fast toward the hospital that Yelena had told her you were admitted to. Along the way, she had this smile on her face that she couldn't brush off, no matter how much she tried.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!"

After what feels like years, Natasha finally entered the delivery room where you were lying down. She wore her scrubs, not minding the way her sister had looked at her with raised brows when she signaled her to come out. "Yel, wait outside. I'll handle it from here."

"Why would you want to-"

"For fuck's sake, just go!" You screamed madly, causing the blonde to narrow her eyes before leaving but not before muttering her line.

"сука!"™

You had been suffering for fourteen hours of labor, and the baby still didn't want to go out yet, so your patience was wearing thin. It turns out that the contractions that you were feeling are not the usual ones that you get. You were already laboring and dilating without being aware of it.

"You!" You pointed at Natasha. "Come here! Faster, goddamn it!"

"Okay, okay, chill." The redhead obliged without another thought, grabbing your hand for support, and she tried her best not to wince with how hard you squeezed it when you felt another wave of pain, but she couldn't, muttering a low curse, "Shit."

"Oh, you think that hurts?" You glared at her sarcastically. "This is your fault anyway, so don't-"

"Baby's crowning." Your doctor interrupted your seemingly endless banter cautiously, "Give me five hard pushes, okay?"

If you weren't in pain, you'd be touched knowing that your baby wouldn't go out of you without the presence of her Mama Nat, but no, you're in pain since you refused to take some epidurals. Nonetheless, you obliged.

You pushed, screamed, and teared up until you finally heard the wonderful sounds of cries from your newly born child.

"It's a healthy baby girl! Congratulations, Mrs. and Mrs. Romanoff!"

"Oh, we're not really-"

Natasha cuts off your exhausted rambling as she flashed a teary smile to the doctor who's holding your gays' baby.

"Thank you, Doctor Alison." She couldn't take her eyes off of the wailing child even if she tried, murmuring a small, "Beautiful."

You tugged at her hand, making her snap back into reality. "Congratulations, nemesis. Such a sharpshooter!"

She laughed lowly at the second one before smiling genuinely at you.

"Congratulations and thank you, Y/n," Natasha sincerely mumbled before she slowly leaned down to kiss your forehead. "I love you."

You were surprised with the sudden confession, but some part of you is already aware of those weird feelings that she gives you—love. Before, using the word love beside Natasha's name was like the most impossible thing that could've ever existed, but now, as you realize all those moments and bickerings that you grew fond of as time went by, it doesn't feel impossible anymore.

You love Natasha Romanoff.

In addition to that, it's a moment of vulnerability, and it was rare for Natasha to show that. It's her defense mechanism, so she always makes sure that she has these walls to protect her, but now you could see it in her eyes—feel it.

She trusts you with all her heart.

And since it's a serious moment for you both, it made you uneasy, not being used to the softness just yet. That's why you tried to make it more normal between you two.

You gave her a tired smirk and decided to tease her a bit. "I know you do, Romanoff. I know you do."

"Okay, don't Han Solo me now!" Natasha chuckled lowly. "I know you—you love me too. That's why we keep on beakering. It's like our love language."

Our love language.

"You're so full of yourself." You scoffed sarcastically, though you couldn't help but agree. Not that she needs to know that. "Maybe I'll love you if you promise to change Willow's diaper for the first six months."

"Willow?" Natasha questioned, rubbing the pad of her thumb with your still intertwined hands, ignoring your second remark, "Is that her name?"

"Mhm." You hummed lazily, your eyes now becoming heavier. "Natalia Willow Y/l/n-Romanoff."

You obviously woke up with a painful lower body; your throat felt dry as you tried to slowly get used to the blinding light.

You saw Natasha snoring adorably beside you, her head placed above your intertwined fingers. You giggled quietly at how clingy she's suddenly become after all those banters that you two have shared before. You gently woke her up, making her stir a few times before she finally opened her forest green eyes.

"Hi," Natasha mumbled with a soft smile. "How are you?"

"Thirsty," You muttered, your voice raspy, making her quickly get up to go over the table on the corner and fill the glass with water before giving it to you, guiding you as you finished it even though you insisted that you could drink on your own. "Hi."

"Hey, detka." She chuckled at your shy side. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," You nodded honestly, "Where's the-"

"So where's my niece?"

"-baby?" You finished while eyeing Yelena, who had just barged in and was slightly restless but really excited.

Natasha mumbled, "They should be here-"

Knock knock!

"-now.." Natasha scoffed, "Yeah, we should really stop cutting ourselves off."

The nurse came in with the small crib, where a peacefully sleeping baby was placed. She was now wrapped in her pinkish blanket to keep her warm, and her tiny hands were hidden with her mittens.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Yelena clapped quietly, running towards the crib to catch a glimpse of her niece, but when she's already gazing at your child, her mouth falls open in shock. "Looks exactly like—what the fu-"

"Language." Captain America entered with a light knock; he was with the other Avengers behind him as they walked carefully inside the room.

"So, why does Y/n's baby have red hair?" Kate questioned, voicing one of the thoughts that was playing in Yelena's head. Thor then entered with a booming clap, having just arrived since he still fetched Jane along the way, causing your baby to be startled and open her eyes slightly, but enough to reveal the shade of her gems. "And green eyes?!"

"It's a fucking baby Romanoff, y'all!" Tony smirked to himself, "Knew you two were kinky shits!"

The others were still pretty stunned at the revelation. Some were staring deeply at the resemblance while either having their eyes wide or their mouth hanging open. Pretty much both. So, when they finally recovered-

"Natasha?!" All of them turned to the redhead who was drinking some water, nonchalantly, on the corner.

"Yeah, it's a long story, but let's just all welcome my daughter—Willow, yeah?"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #soft natasha romanoff

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nat-20s · 4 months

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9 + Donna: the two cattiest bitches in the bookclub. The only known companion and doctor pairing to straight up break the TARDIS's swear filter

11 + Donna: She relentlessly makes fun of him and he clings to her like a limpet. She steals his wife. If anyone else is TOO mean to him though she's like "he's just a little guy??? He's just a little birthday boy why are you being mean to him on his birthday???"

12 + Donna: two cattiest bitches in the bookclub chaos gremlins edition. 12 would be like so... I have a trex running around in 1800s London to wrangle and Donna would be like

Also 12 would make a tiny pair of custom sonic sunglasses for 1 year old Rose bc he can't let his best friend NOT have the coolest baby in the universe.

13 + Donna: 13 is even MORE of a sad wet cat than ten. She is constantly saying weird shit with no filter along the lines of seeing Donna carry a Pomeranian in her purse and 13 being like "god I wish that were me 😔Donna if I shrunk myself down would you carry me around in a nice cat backpack y/y?". Donna is either nonplussed or like "Babe for love of god are you like?? Okay?" Also it might never be said out loud but the entire time Donna is refusing to admit that she thinks this Doctor is kind of hot.

#donna noble #doctor who #im gonna make another post like this for the master lol

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blingblong55 · 5 months

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His pretty girl -Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

I looved ur makarov fic n im here to request smth else w him, there's barely anything w him its sad How would makarov treat his dear wife when she's sick? I'm kinda sick rn so.. : 3 ---- F!Reader, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, nothing but fluff ----

A/N: short but good…I hope…

Vladimir was gone for some weeks. He couldn't come in contact with you so when you didn't show up to greet him he was worried. The drive home was usually calm but this time, he rushed it. Avoided all cars and soon, ran inside. The image he saw before his eyes, oh did it melt him. You were curled on the couch. The blanket slowly falls off your body. Used tissues all over the coffee table and floor. The tea was cold and your soft breathing gave him even more reason to clean the area as quietly as possible. Your shared bedroom was cleaned, all dishes washed and then he carried you to bed. The medication you took to sleep was so strong you didn't know he even carried you to bed. That entire night, he checked your temperature, kissed your forehead and held you against his chest.

When you got sick, the first time, he panicked, called a doctor and yelled at him when he said that all you needed to do was drink tea and take it easy. Now, knowing his pretty little wife too well, he knows all he needs to do. 8 am, have breakfast ready, with tea on the side and orange juice just in case you want that one more and it must be room temperature, not cold. He must put on some video as you eat because you like to catch up on some show as you eat. You like wearing his shirts more because you swear it makes you feel better, which is bullshit because he knows you like to just have a reason to wear his clothes.

He must wash all dishes, not complain about being tired because how dare he. Makarov knows this well mainly because it worked the first 4 times and this time it is the same. After breakfast, washing dishes, he has to take you on a walk, the air, the way you smile, oh he knows the fresh air helps that stuff nose and he also gets even more private time with you.

Lunch for a day or two is chicken soup, his grandmothers since he knows you loved it any time you were sick. Kisses on your forehead all day is a must, you know that. If you groan and push him away, he gives you a little frown and moves closer. "You know kisses are a part of the remedy, my pretty girl." He grins when you give him your lazy smile. Your face is hot from both the fever and from his lips. Once he and you eat lunch, he cleans the home and don't you dare walk to the bedroom, he has made it clear he needs to clean and sanitise the bed.

If he has a meeting, he doesn't go to it, it's over the phone as he is in bed and has you cuddled to him. You can't argue against it. Your husband must give cuddles while on the phone. It's a rule at this point.

At night, he makes dinner, makes sure it all tastes wonderful and then feeds it to you since wrapping you in a burrito can't let your hands move. It's a funny but cute image. You, sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around you which makes you look like a cute little bug as your husband feeds you dinner. Oh, the frowns and pouts you give to his giggle and laughter won't help, he just adores you this way.

After dinner, more cuddles and kisses come by. He calls it 'kiss the sick away.' When you lean on him he knows this is to sleep but he can't allow over 3 naps per day when you're sick. So, he carries you to the bathroom. Gives you your medicine, and takes the blankets, clothes and anything in between off you. The bath was set to a very comfortable temperature.

He undresses too and once he has both of you in the bath, he kisses your shoulders. Your warm back on his chest as he cleans your body with so much gentleness it has you leaning on him and smiling. "That's what you needed huh, pretty girl," he kisses your wet shoulder again and wraps his arms around you. You kiss his bicep and he chuckles. "Don't start, my love," he whispers. The lights dimmed, him and you…this is the perfect way to get better. He hums a song, the same one he married you to and the same one he hums when he is far from home.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers and kisses the nape of your neck. "I love you more," you whisper back. "We both know who wins this, so do you want to start this game?" He kisses your neck again and chuckles. In moments like this, in which the world is kind and calm, he appreciates life like any normal person would. "You always win, i want to win this time." You pout and know damn well he can't say no to his pretty wife. "Fine, you win this time but we both know I have a long winning streak in this game." He grabs your hand and kisses it. In his head, he already won. And in this life, he truly did.

A/N: Makarov and Ghost are the kind of man to give me a Hozier song kind of vibe and that is what feeds my fluff brain

Tags:

@makarovsbbg @sans-chara @selarus @liyanahelena @hilmiponken @personwhosucksassatmath @undercover-smutlover @ontopofyourceiling @kielsegur @johfamm0 @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rivivienner @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

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Love's Remedy, On Fire ༓ jjk (m) l ch. I

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,027

Warnings: jk is very cute and determined, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc is not mean here but she teases jk, feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: um ok I swear this was supposed to be a pwp crack fic about jk wanting to get laid with a hat on. This turned into a very angsty but fluffy series and I'm sorry 😬 lmk what you think and tysm for reading! 💞 I know title is sucky

ch. lI >> | series masterlist

Over the entirety of his nineteen years, Jungkook was pushed to prepare for one thing—college entrance exams.

It was a huge deal and getting into one of the leading universities in South Korea was a must for him. You see, the Jeons were nobody to laugh at with the bulk of them being high-ranking medical doctors, engineers, and lawyers. Continuing this legacy, therefore, was far from a choice, Jungkook had to follow suit.

When the results of the exams came back Jungkook passed with flying colors. It wasn't a surprise though since he spent all his time studying his ass off until the dawn. Jungkook indeed got accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in Seoul and his parents, teachers, and friends were quick to give their congratulations. He felt good too...no, he felt damn good.

Now he was here he was, standing in the middle of campus with his bag slung over one shoulder and a few orientation papers in his hand. It was still the first week of classes and he desperately needed to get to the science building. (He had chosen to follow his father's footsteps and go into biochem).

"Excuse me," he asks with nervous eyes and a wobbling lip. "Do you happen to know where the science building is? I'm late for class but I can't seem to find it."

The student he walks up to for directions looks about his age. He isn't sure if she's in her first year like him but she looks competent with the way she's standing, feet spread apart and a hand on her hip. The skirt she's sporting is incredibly short but the top is full length. She's smacking on hot pink gum as well, popping bubbles every now and then.

"Keep walking straight until you see the statue of President Kim, then take a right. The science building will be right there." You hardly spare him a glance but you make the mental note that he's cute with his fluffy black hair and big lost eyes. You consider asking his name but you shrug the feeling. He was cute yes, but he was too cute which isn't your type.

Jungkook gives a small thank you and walks off. Your directions are vague, but hopefully finding the statue will help him. After a few steps, he looks over his shoulder to see you laughing with your friend.

You have a gorgeous smile.

Probably the last time he'll see you though, he thinks. Jungkook isn't sure how he'd be with a woman given the fact he's never been with one. Surely he'd do better than half the dumbasses out there but guys like him don't stand a chance with a woman like you.

You look like you go for the experienced type and that wasn't him. He goes back to what he was doing, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hey man, what's your name?" A young guy with bleached blonde hair slides into the seat next to him. Apparently, he wasn't the only one late. "I'm Jackson." The man goes in for a fist bump but stops when it's very obvious it won't be reciprocated.

"I'm Jungkook," he says, more concentrated on what his professor is saying than anything else. Jackson continues talking, however, despite his focused state.

"So, I'm assuming this is your first year?" Jungkook nods. "Me too. Where you from?"

"Busan."

"Cool cool, I'm from Hong Kong." Hearing this makes Jungkook shift his eyes over immediately. The last thing he expected was to meet someone from China. Was this Jackson dude just pulling his leg or was he being serious? Nevertheless, it intrigues him.

"I'm an exchange student." Jackson clarifies. "Always wanted to see what South Korea was like and I know Seoul's got a pretty thriving economy so..." He shrugs. "Figured I'd give it a go and my parents support it. As long as I stay on my doctor's track of course."

Well damn. A doctor was not what Jungkook assumed a guy like Jackson would be going for. This was a prestigious school but it's still a gen ed class they're in right now. Anyone from most majors could be taking it. If he had to guess, Jackson would be a businessman.

"Well enough about me though," Jackson quips. "What do you study?"

"Biochem. My dad works as a physician and my mom's a chemical engineer. I'm going for pharmacology."

"Shit bro," Jackson cusses freely. Jungkook doesn't mean to jump in response but he does. Being all formal talk at home, it's unventured territory. "You guys must be a family of geniuses. Wait...what's your last name?"

"Jeon?"

Jackson nearly falls back in his chair when he hears the name fall from Jungkook's lips. He covers his mouth with both hands to keep himself under wraps. "Are you serious? You're from the Jeon family? Fuck, man, I've been hearing about your family since I was a kid that's how influential your family has been in the medical industry."

Jungkook finds himself intertwining his hands. His family is well-established in what they do but it never occurred to him that they were that well-known. Sure his dad's been featured in a couple of magazines for his work and his mom's been given several awards for her research. But he didn't think they'd gone that publicly beyond their own town.

"Oh shit I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable talking about this? Promise you I'm not a creep or anything!" The urgency in Jackson's tone stirs up the classroom, peers looking over at the two of them in annoyance.

"Do you mind shutting up?" A chestnut-haired boy is the first to speak up. He looks thoroughly pissed, to say the least with his cat-like eyes narrowing at the both of them. "Some of us actually want to graduate here."

"Chill out man. We're sorry." Jackson gives Jungkook a small tight-lipped smile. "We'll talk later."

"We will?"

Jackson gives him a slap on the back. "Yeah it's a given. You and I," he gestures between the two of them. "We should stick together. Being that we're both new around here and we both studying med. Also, was going to wait to tell you but I wanna go to this awesome party that goes on that kicks off the year. You'd think I'd be confident to go by myself but if you're free, I could use a buddy."

A party. Some blonde-haired boy who could very likely become the center of attention wants him, Jeon Jungkook, to go to a party? Jungkook spends most of his time playing video games, studying chem tables, and watching p—well he shouldn't say that part out loud.

"If you don't want to then I get it." Jackson scratches his head. "I don't wanna pressure you or anything. We did just meet and I just thought you looked cool so...."

"Okay." Jungkook accepts before giving it much thought. Besides studying, he was told college was a time to also let loose and have fun. Freedom and all that. That's what his friends back home told him at least. They also mentioned getting laid but...who would give him that fat chance?

If anything, maybe he'll get a friend by going to this little party. Jungkook shoots a small smile in return.

"Okay listen," Jackson says, opening the door to his black Lexus. "I heard this party gets crazy so just be smart and don't get into too much punch."

Jungkook hops in the passenger seat. "But I love punch." He straps his seatbelt in, totally unaware of the punch Jackson"s referring to.

"It's spiked Kook. And I'm guessing your alcohol tolerance is pretty low?" Jackson twists the key and pulls out of the campus parking lot. He doesn't mean to be insulting or anything but his new buddy doesn't look like the party-hardy kinda guy.

In fact, Jungkook decided to....well, wear a hat to this gig. It's not a baseball cap, beanie, or even a greasy cowboy hat.

It's a sunhat. Black at least.

"By the way Jungkook. I don't wanna sound like a dick or anything but can you explain the thing on your head? Because the rest of you looks great, black dress shirt and jeans."

"Oh um." Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs. He's embarrassed to tell Jackson the truth but he's his buddy now, right? Maybe this can be a bonding thing for them. "I thought it was cute? I mean I wanna...ah." Jungkook lets out a nervous chuckle.

"What is it, man? I promise I won't judge."

"I wanna," he starts again. "Uhm you see I heard that if you wear something out of the ordinary that people will like you more or something. Like they'll be interested..."

"Mhm, cute and out of the ordinary things huh? What kind of people are you trying to impress Jungkook?" Jackson gives a knowing smirk. Who knew his buddy schemes these kinds of stuff.

Jungkook speeds through the answer. "Grs."

"Say it properly and slower."

"Wanna get a girl....woman! I mean...a woman." Jungkook sheepishly grins at Jackson. Please don't laugh at me, he begs silently.

"You dog!" Jackson pushes Jungkook's shoulder. "My little buddy is a man, well well well. So are you looking for a girlfriend or something else?"

"Wife!" Jungkook bugs out his eyes, no hesitation at all. Jackson struggles not to give even the slightest snort. Didn't Jungkook know what kind of party this is?

"That's very sweet but this isn't the place you're going to find a wife, Jungkook. That's more like if we were going to a speed dating thing....this, this is a frat party, little bro."

Jackson pulls up to the front of the giant, lit-up house. They could hear electronic music blasting outside and all over the lawn were shirtless guys and scantily-dressed women. Some were off making out while others were drinking in groups.

Jungkook tenses at the sight. He used to fancy black tie parties where everyone is dressed to the hill and drinking is moderate. Jackson is right, he is not finding a wife here. Dammit. But he really doesn't want to give up his hat.

"Yo Jackson," a guy with pitch-black hair greets the man with a fist bump. So that's how it's done, Jungkook observes. "Glad you could make it!"

"Jae-beom, what's good man?! I wouldn't miss this party for the world. I brought a friend." He ushers Jungkook to come forward. "This is Jungkook. He's in my class."

"Nice to meet you Jungkook!" Jae-beom moves in for a fist bump which ends up making contact with Jungkook's fist. It's not as sharp as with Jackson but it's a fist bump. "I used to work with Jackson over the summer. Always stealing my tips this man!"

"Hey, I did not do that!" Jackson gives a hearty laugh and shoves Jae-beom hard enough for him to lose his balance a little. "You kept leaving for a smoke. I had to wait your tables half the time!"

"I wasn't going for a smoke Jack—woah hey baby. What's your name?" The man shifts his focus to the girl walking past them. She has bright red lipstick, a black crop top, and jean shorts.

"Fuck off." She snaps before looking at Jungkook. "Cute hat by the way."

Everyone looks at Jungkook at that moment who's motionless. They hope to god he says something back but he only stares. The girl smirks at him and quirks her head to the side. "What's your name? I gotta friend who'd be all over you in a heartbeat, though she'd never admit it."

Jackson throws a mouth over his hand, eyes wide in amusement. This girl did not just propose Jungkook, his buddy who's looking for a wife, to get off with her friend.

"Um...yeah no. No, it's okay but thanks." Jungkook can barely sound the words. This girl in front of him was really, really hot but intimidating. "Yes thank you but I'm looking for a..."

"Don't-" Jackson lunges forward.

"Wife." Jungkook smiles at the girl a little too angelically. "I'm Jungkook though. What's your name?"

The girl bites her lip. "Well, it's too bad then Jungkook. Because you're so fucking cute and I know you'd like each other. Why don't you meet her? Even if it's just to say hi?"

Jungkook looks at Jackson who only shrugs. "Up to you man."

Jungkook makes his way through the heavy crowd. He bumps into a few people on the way but thankfully he's able to still see the girl, apparently who goes by Crystal.

Jungkook isn't convinced it's her real name but if that's what she wants to be called who is he to dispute?

Once they get to the other side of the room, Jungkook spots a woman with a tight black dress on. It falls mid-thigh and has laced-up sides. When they near the woman Jungkook feels himself sweating bullets.

"__!" Crystal taps on your shoulder. "I brought you, someone, to meet. This is Jungkook!"

You turn around, drink in hand. You look fucking stunning. Jungkook can't believe it's you. He's seeing you again and he wishes he didn't wear this damn hat now! He goes to yank it off but Crystal stops him.

"Hey, the hat's cute. Keep it on!"

"I-but," he looks at you. "But it's making me hot." You're making me hot.

You give a shrug. "Do what you want Jungkook. It's your head at stake." You take a sip of your drink. You really did not expect to see the shy guy from this morning be at a frat party. "Good to see you again."

"Oh, you know each other?"

"We had a slight run in this morning. Baby had to get to the science building." You take a scan at what he's wearing. Black shirt that cuts at the elbows, denim jeans, and sneakers. Not bad compared to the sweater he was wearing this morning.

"I'm—I'm not a baby." Jungkook can't stop himself from feeling offended. Whether you meant it to be condescending or not, he doesn't want to be seen as a baby! Especially not to you. "I'm a man, okay? I go to the gym and stuff."

"Okay I'm sorry," you say. "I just call everyone baby. I didn't mean anything."

That doesn't seem to relax Jungkook. "I can lift a fuck ton of weights too." He stops once he hears himself cuss out loud. Usually, he does that in his head....goddamn it.

"Mmm," you step towards him, careful not to touch him. Usually by now you'd already be in the bathroom getting railed by some punk but not tonight. Jungkook has your attention. "Can you now? I'm not sure if I believe you. You're kind of a twig, not to be rude or anything."

Jungkook's face turns to a darker shade, eyes piercing into yours. "I can show you I'm not lying."

"Go ahead, do what you will." You fake a yawn until you find yourself suddenly in his arms. They're a lot stronger and more muscular than you thought. "Jungkook! Put me down!"

Everyone at the party starts staring over, giggling at each other. Jungkook gives a satisfied grin. "I have you in my arms, what are you gonna do now? Not believe me again?"

"I-" You're certain your face glowing with embarrassment. "Um no, I believe you Jungkook. Please, set me down."

"Not til you say it --." He challenges-brat. "Say I'm not a baby."

"Jungkook I told you I call everyone baby. It wasn't-okay you're not a baby. Obviously, you lift a lot now please put me down."

Finally, he does what you ask, a proud face on. His hat is a little crooked so you reach out and fix it. It's a reflexive response, you don't even know what you're doing let alone Jungkook.

"Oh, sorry your hat was just-"

"Please go out with me. On a date I mean?" He's so terribly timid but he can't help himself now. He had you in his arms and you're just so beautiful and charming. He needs to know more about you. It's a must.

"Well, I-" Everyone waits for your answer, very nosy clearly. You look at Jungkook with his big eyes and pouty lips. You don't wanna say no but relationships aren't your thing. And it seems that is defiantly all he's in for.

Jungkook's shoulders sulk. He isn't expecting a yes but he was hoping that maybe you'd give him a tiny chance.

"Come on __," Crystal whispers. "Look at him. Don't you think he's cute? Like really cute?"

You look at your best friend with weary eyes. He's so cute but, there's that but. That relationship but. He's going to be the type to want to do all the couple things and snuggle and everything. Jungkook needs someone who is willing to do all the stuff and you? You're not good at any of it.

"I'm sorry Jungkook," you start. "I don't know if-"

"One date __. If it's a no I won't bother you again. I just....I just think you're really gorgeous and I wanna get to know you. That's all." He takes the hat off his head, letting his fluffy hair run free. You kinda wanna touch it if it didn't makes things weird.

His words, however, make your heart thump the tiniest amount. The only time you've ever been called gorgeous is when guys try to get in your bed. It's all you've known other than maybe from a relative. Gorgeous is used pretty regularly, you know that, but this time it's used in an entirely different context.

"I'll tell you what," he says, pulling out his phone. "I'll give you my number and if you change your mind text me or call. I won't bug you and you can delete it right after this if you want, I promise."

You end up taking his number and Jungkook leaves to go back to his buddies. "You should go out with him __," Crystal says.

"I don't know." You watch him stride away. "I'll think about it."

A/N: what am i doing? Idk im running away now bye! lmk what you think and tysm for reading! Comment/ask to be on taglist 💞

Masterlist

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts x reader #fic:lovesremedyonfire #kookslastbutton

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procrastiel · 20 days

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My highlights from The Assembly:

Was John Taylor from Duran Duran your first ever crush? “Yes, he absolutely was.” Michael thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, man or woman. And he tried to imitate his hairdo (didn’t work out though, because Michael’s hair is really curly and John’s is straight).

He’s not brave enough to go on Strictly because he thinks he’s not a good dancer.

How does it feel to be dating someone that is only 5 years older than your daughter? “Both of us were quite surprised when we got together, it wasn’t something we were looking for. I haven’t dated anyone who is much younger than me but you meet who you meet. We were both very aware how people might respond, and that it would be difficult and challenging, but ultimately we felt that it was worth it, because of how we felt about each other. And now we have two beautiful children together. We’re really, really happy. I am aware that I am a much older father, and it does worry me, and makes me concerned, and makes me sad thinking about the time that I won’t have with them. But if you find someone who brings you happiness and you make them happy you gotta go for that. So that’s what we decided to do, and I’m so happy we did because we have this wonderful family now.”

The next question (asked by the same girl) was: Who is the rudest celebrity? “Have you heard of a man called David Tennant? He was Doctor Who. Doctor rude! No he’s very nice. Someone will occur to me and I’ll let you know. (pause) Jennifer Laurence was very cheeky! She is very cheeky.”

How tall are you? “I’d like to be 5”11 but I’m closer to 5”10.”

He likes Dylan Thomas, even though he doesn’t understand all of his poetry.

He cries probably every day. And it’s totally fine to feel things deeply and get emotional about things.

His favourite Disney film is Moana. And that’s Mabli’s favourite movie at the moment, too. She watches it about twice a day.

He’s worried that AI will take his job away, and that it will change everything, not just actors and writers. And that by the time we will want to put a stop to certain things it’ll be too late.

His favourite food is Egg and chips. Only enhanced by ham.

He loves going by train.

If he could replace 2 people of the royal family he’d take away Andrew & Camilla and replace them with Joe Lycett & David Attenborough. Or Tom Jones as the Prince of Wales!

If he could play the Doctor or the Master, he’d like to play the Master and play opposite David Tennant as the Doctor.

His biggest fear is being alone. And it’s also what he worries about the most for other people.

Hot or cold? He does like winter and snow. ❄️

Walk us through the before, during and after of the kiss with David Tennant: reading the script he thought “that’s gonna be a big deal”. They didn’t really talk about it and just went for it. Everyone was quite moved by the scene, all the people around them, so they knew it had gone quite well. And now they never talk about it. (He said that last bit with a smile.)

5 OF THE INTERVIEWERS SANG HERE COMES THE SUN FOR HIM AND EVERYONE JOINED IN AT THE END 😍 Michael had tears in his eyes

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octoberclidan · 11 months

Text

Holding Tight

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request: can you write a fic with dean where he just craves physical attention but not by verbally asking for it? like when dean wakes up from a nightmare he crawls into y/n’s bed and they both just know what to do, like they’ve done it a million times. or after a bad hunt, y/n just hugs dean while he processes his emotions in his own way.

Masterlist

Story:

The car ride back to the motel was quiet. Dean drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, Sam stared out the window watching the rain, and [Y/N] sat in the back, her head resting against the back seat, exhausted. No music played, no one spoke, no one wanted to discuss the hunt they had just finished up with. It had been one of [Y/N]'s least favourite monsters; a wendigo. The trio had arrived in a small town full of disappearances a week ago, and it had taken them five days to track down the wendigo's lair. Five days of continuous disappearances, knowing that each day that passed meant finding survivors less and less likely. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. One they found the creature, Sam had been knocked out almost immediately. Dean's gun jammed, and [Y/N]'s lighter wouldn't light when she'd had the chance to set the thing on fire.

When they eventually killed it and went looking for the missing people, only one was still alive, and only barely. They'd gotten the survivor to hospital, but the doctors were sceptical they'd ever recover. Between the week preceding and the week during the Winchesters and [Y/N] being in the town, eighteen people had gone missing. Seventeen people had died on their watch, and the remaining survivor would most likely add to the count within the next couple of days. They were all miserable, but Dean took it the hardest. He always did. To him, if Sam or [Y/N] didn't manage to save someone, then it wasn't their fault. No one can save everyone all of the time. When he couldn't save someone however, it was because he wasn't good enough. He didn't train hard enough, he wasn't fast enough, he wasn't smart enough, he just wasn't enough. [Y/N] looked at the back of his head from her position in the back of the Impala, he was thinking these thoughts so loud she swore she could hear them. It was taking everything in her to not try and tell him it wasn't his fault, but she knew he would shrug her off and only fall deeper into self destruction, so she stayed quiet.

It was one of the rare instances where the motel had a room with three separate beds, usually they'd have to book two rooms, or [Y/N] would have to take the couch, or one of the brothers would end up on the floor. Tonight all three of them were thankful that they'd have each other in the room, even if they weren't talking, and all three were looking forward to the day ending and getting into bed. [Y/N] showered first, trying to be quick and not use up all the hot water while also getting all of the blood and dirt out of her hair and off her body. She tucked herself into her bed straight after while Sam took his turn. She rolled onto her side to face Dean, who was sitting at a little table in the motel room, staring out the window at the rain just as Sam had in the car. She sighed quietly, wishing more than anything that she knew what to say to calm his mind and take the guilt away from him, but she knew he would come to her when he was ready, he always did.

Dean went for his shower as soon as Sam came out. The moment Sam's head hit his pillow, he was out, softly snoring having not even bothered to get under the covers. [Y/N] listened to the sound of the water running in the shower, feeling sad knowing that Dean was in there beating himself up like usual. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, the guilt of not saving everyone also weighing on her own shoulders. In some sad toxic thought process that they all shared, it made them all feel worse that they themselves hadn't sustained any major injuries. Sam had been knocked out but given the all clear by the paramedics, and [Y/N] and Dean only had a few scratches and bruises between them. She closed her eyes when she heard the shower turn off, holding her breath in anticipation to find out if Dean was ready to seek comfort in her or if he would choose his own bed and wallow in self pity.

The bathroom door opened, and she heard Dean's footsteps walk to the side of her bed. She opened her eyes and turned her head to the side to look up at him, only just able to make out his features in the low light. He looked broken, his eyes were red having obviously cried in the shower, his shoulders were slumped, and he looked tired. She pulled back the covers and opened her arms in a silent invitation, and he crawled onto the bed, his knees either side of her legs and his hands either side of her shoulders, before he let himself down, lying on top of her. He was shirtless, and his warm body covered hers, his arms snaked around her waist and his head lay on her chest, tucked under her chin. She breathed in, the scent of shampoo in his damp hair just beneath her nose. She felt him sigh and relax on top of her, and she brought her hand up and around to his back, scratching lightly. One of her hands wandered up his spine, along his neck, and into his hair, lightly scratching the top of his head while her other hand drew circles on his back. He tightened his grip around her, as if he was trying to get as close as possible. Her movements slowed as she grew tired, and when she heard his slow and deep breathing she finally let herself drift off to sleep. She knew that in the morning she would wake up in his arms, rather than Dean still be in hers, his masculinity having got the better of him at some stage during the night, so she let herself enjoy holding him while it lasted. She needed this too, being able to hold someone, comfort someone, make them feel safe, it comforted her.

***

Several weeks later, and they had returned to the bunker after another unsuccessful hunt. The two successful hunts they'd had in between didn't seem to matter, only the hunts with less than ideal outcomes stuck in their heads. Sam had gone off to his room as soon as they'd arrived back. Dean had a pretty bad cut on his shoulder and [Y/N] had offered to clean and stitch it up for him, but he'd waved her off, grumbling about how he could do it instead, and disappeared into his room. [Y/N] stared after him as he walked down the corridor, sighing as she knew he was yet again probably stuck in his head, repeating the events of the hunt over and over again, thinking about anything that could possibly be considered a mistake.

She got herself a glass of water from the kitchen, and sat down at the table for a moment, staring into space. As bad as she felt for Dean, she felt emotionally drained too. She'd held someone while they died from a werewolf attack, too far gone to help. Dean had been thrown against a large rock, leading to the gash in his shoulder, and [Y/N] hadn't been able to help. Sam was the one who eventually killed the wolf, and although she knew it couldn't hurt anyone else, it still felt like a failure. When she finished her drink, she washed the glass and began to walk to her room. She passed Dean's room on the way, and stood outside the closed door for a moment, wondering what was going through his head. She sighed, and knocked on the door. In the absence of an answer, she decided to crack it open. Peeking inside, she saw Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, cleaning supplies sitting beside him untouched.

She quietly opened the door farther and stepped inside before closing in gently behind her. She knelt down in front of Dean, who hadn't acknowledged her presence, and she hooked her finger under his chin, pulling him up to look at her. They locked eyes for a moment before he shook his head and looked away. She took his decision to stay seated as an invitation, and she took the bottle of alcohol and an antiseptic wipe from beside Dean, and got to work. He didn't flinch when she poured the alcohol on his shoulder, and he didn't flinch when she began to sew up the wound either. He just sat there, his face turned away from her. She finished by taping a bandage to his shoulder and closing up the supply kit. She sat down beside him and sighed. "Dean". She whispered.

Dean looked to her and he broke, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap so she was straddling him. He leaned his forehead against hers and she felt a tear drip down onto her face. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. She leaned up and kissed his forehead, watching his eyes flutter closed before she dipped her head down, snuggling into his chest. They sat like that in silence for a long time, holding each other tight, before Dean lay back, bringing her down with him. She lay her head on his chest and this time it was Dean who traced circles on [Y/N]'s back, the act of soothing her also soothing himself. The pair fell asleep in each other's arms, sharing the sadness between them lessening the effect on their minds.

***

It was only two nights later when [Y/N] was woken up by the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. Glancing at her clock, it was just after 3am. She didn't need to look around to know that it was Dean who'd just let himself into her room and closed the door. Dean often checked in on [Y/N] during the night, sometimes just quickly glancing in to check that she was breathing before leaving again, sometimes walking over and pulling her covers up, or pulling her shoes off after a long day when she hadn't intended to fall asleep fully clothed. Sometimes he just came in to replace the glass of water she always kept on her bedside table, and sometimes he only came in to gently kiss her forehead, and appreciate how grateful he was to have her in his life.

This night however, Dean needed more than just a quick check or a forehead kiss. She heard him walk over to her bed, and she felt her covers pull back and her bed dip down behind her. Dean pressed his chest against her back and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. He tangled his legs with hers, and rested his chin on the top of her head. She heard him sigh in contentment, and she reached up to stroke her fingers along the hand and arm he had around her waist. He snuggled in closer when he realised that she was awake, holding her as tight as possible without hurting her. He kissed the top of her head and listened as her breathing became slower and deeper. Whether he was holding her tightly or being held by her tightly, he needed it. He needed her and she needed him, they would always know and give each other what they needed.

The end

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avocado-writing · 4 months

Text

home

pairing: 14th doctor x reader & 10th doctor x reader

rating: E

notes: no gender or age given for reader, just that you last saw the doctor fifteen years ago. thank you to @mcganns for being my beta!!

This too shall pass.

It was a sentiment that you had to cling onto when he left, because fuck knows it was the most painful thing you’d ever felt. And you’d run away from actual explosions before. Big ones, in space! Supernovas which could eat entire planets while you hung onto the side of a little blue box.

And yet none of it even begins to compare to when he fucking left you.

He said it wouldn’t be forever. Well, he shouted it at you as you fell out of the TARDIS. There was a time explosion, and you got rocketed back to your little flat in the middle of Hackney, on Earth only a few days from when he’d picked you up — but in your reality months of adventure had passed.

You’d not really settled back in, certain that he was going to come and rescue you. But then days turned into weeks into months and you finally accepted that the Doctor had abandoned you.

So you went back to it all. Your mundane little existence before a mad, brilliant man had whisked you away. Your boss was a bit miffed that you’d gone AWOL but you were their best employee so they couldn’t afford to let you go, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a command not to let it happen again. The people you loved didn’t really seem to notice your absence that much, which stung; you couldn’t blame them though. You’d probably not miss you much either.

The Doctor. He made you feel special in a way nobody had before. Like you were the centre of a whole, giant, fantastic universe, and he adored you for it.

Still.

No point mulling that over again, is there?

Fifteen years. Things did get better. You moved on eventually. But you still find your thoughts drifting back to him every once in a while, and that fragment of time you spent totally utterly in love with each other. When you think about the way he kissed you, without realising it you end up touching your lips.

No. No. Stop.

The singing of the kettle snaps you back into reality, and you pour yourself a hot cuppa. Ah, tea. The antidote to everything. You go to turn the radio on for some company as you shift into your morning routine when you hear a knock at the door.

Probably the postie. He’s a bit early today, you think, but make no more of it as you undo the latch and open the door.

Your heart stops.

Because there he is, of course.

Older. Weathered. Not the young man you once knew but a grownup version of him, as exhausted by life as you are.

You drop your mug. Quick as a flash the Doctor grabs it out of midair. The tea sloshes onto the floor but at least nothing gets shattered.

He goes to look up at you, but his attention is drawn back to his hand.

“I bought you this mug years ago,” he says, utterly amazed.

You shut the door in his face.

Well, you try to, anyway. But he sticks a foot in between the door and the frame, with one of those stupid Converse he always wears.

“I know you’re angry, I know. But please let me come in.”

It’s such an absurd statement you find yourself laughing, a high and desperate noise.

“Absolutely not!” Actually, no. That’s not enough. “How dare you. Why are you even here?!”

“Because I wanted— I needed to see you.”

You still want to slam the door on him, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives you pause. And when he looks at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Those eyes as lined with age as you are?

Fuck. You’re so weak.

So that’s how you find the Doctor sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. You lean against the counter, defences still up, eyeing him from over the top of your mug. He drums his fingers against the tablecloth.

“I like your house. Your calendar is nice, I enjoy the kitten motif.”

“Don’t,” you spit, slamming the mug down and sloshing tea onto the floor, “don’t you dare. You don’t get to waltz back here and start telling me ‘oh, I enjoy your furnishings, haven’t you made a nice little life for yourself since I abandoned you!’ I let you in to speak your piece, though god knows why. Say it and be done.”

The Doctor looks deflated. His shoulders sag, mouth falls. You take a moment to properly look at him. He seems… tired. Tired in a way you never knew him to be when you went on your adventures. Part of you wants to offer comfort, but the other part of you wants to withhold it maliciously. Anything to make him feel the way you felt.

“I looked for you,” is what he settles on, heavily. You didn’t expect that, and it knocks you.

“What?”

“I did. After the explosion, I tried searching all over the galaxy for you. I didn’t know where - when - you’d ended up. I scanned and scanned but something stopped you from appearing on the TARDIS’s sensors. I think… the amount of artron energy emitted during the blast somehow cloaked you.”

You say nothing, your silence an invitation for him to continue his explanation.

“It took years. Literal years, for me. Every spare moment I had, I dedicated to looking for you. Head buried in the circuitry of the TARDIS, trying to fix whatever was hiding you, gave myself a couple of nasty shocks too. And, when I finally tracked you down, I’d regenerated.”

You blink. Right. Yes. He’d explained that, but you’d never seen it with your own eyes. The same person, a different face.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me if I didn’t look like me. But I had to try anyway, didn’t I? So I came here. To your house. I got myself all ready for it, knocked on your door… and found that you were married.”

Your fingers grip the counter.

“Oh.”

“He seemed nice. Loved you a lot, as you deserved. And I couldn’t tell you I was back, could I? I saw you pottering around in the kitchen, making the tea - you were always the best at making tea - and you were happy. How could I ask you to leave that all, uproot the life you’d made for yourself, just to jump back in the TARDIS with me? How could I be so cruel? I couldn’t, could I. So I left again. Tried to move on. Like you did.”

You’re crying now. You can feel hot tears slide down your face and soak into your jumper.

“Oh, Doctor,” you manage. You want to tell him so much. It feels like it might burst out of you. But instead you settle on:

“Why now?”

He smiles thinly.

“Because somehow I got this face back, and I wanted to see you. I wanted to be selfish for once.”

You find yourself at the table, on the wonky chair opposite him, sliding your hand over to cover his. It’s rough and warm. Just like you remember. He says your name with reverence, but like it pains him.

“I never stopped loving you. Ever. Through it all, every adventure, I knew it wasn’t complete because you weren’t there. It just wasn’t the same without wonderful, brilliant you,” he admits. He sounds defeated. It breaks your heart — or, actually, it might just put it back together again.

A beat passes. His confession lingers in the air, heavy, thick and choking like smoke from an untameable fire.

“His name was Simon. He was a baker. He was lovely, actually… and we got divorced two years ago.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows.

“You… what… why?”

“Because he knew there was someone else I never really let go of. Someone else who, despite everything, I still loved.”

He looks you in the eyes, and you see something glimmer there that you long since gave up on.

Hope.

And then, suddenly, you’re kissing.

It’s like nothing has changed. His lips are still rough and searching on yours, a hint of tongue giving away into more the deeper you entangle. He sits you up on the table and steps into the space left by your spread legs, and between each kiss he says your name. It’s full of adoration but lined with desperation, too.

Like the kisses he gave you the first night you laid together, on a bed in his spaceship floating across the galaxy. When he buried himself inside you and you felt his two hearts beat in rhythm with your own.

“Doctor…” you manage.

Fuck. You need him. You didn’t realise how badly you needed him. You didn’t realise a piece of your soul has been missing this whole time, fucking torn out of you and leaving a jagged hole in its wake. And him, back, telling you he loves you and always has? You’re patched together like kintsugi.

Your Doctor is the molten gold you need.

“Please. I need to…” he’s so desperate he can barely get the words out, but you nod; he’s undoing the belt buckle of your jeans and pulling them off like they’re silk. When his thin waist meets yours you cross your ankles behind him and lock him into place, and his hands - a little fumbling, a little nervous to be mapping out the plain of you again - begin to trace your chest. You lean into his touch to let him know yes. This is okay. I want this. Make me whole again.

His warm, rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt and lift it easily over your head, the only break in a while you take from your kiss. You let yourself grab his tie to bring him closer. He’s fully dressed still and you’re almost naked; you remember how he used to like that, enjoy feeling a bit more put together than you. Cheeky blighter. Still though, as his suit scratches your skin, you can’t say you don’t agree.

However. In this instance he has far too many clothes.

You tug at his jacket and he knows what you need, letting it fall to the floor with his tie and waistcoat following it. He ruts against you as he unbuttons his shirt a bit, not the whole way, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest. He’s so skinny. You’ve always been a bit worried that, on one of your rougher days, you might snap him in half. You still are now, actually.

Cupping his face in your hands you let your thumbs caress his cheekbones. Your Doctor. Older but the same. Just like you.

You can feel him more than half-hard against your leg. No more time wasting. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him.

It doesn’t take long to undo his fly and have him in your hand. You’ll always be glad he chose this human anatomy. Though you’d love him no matter how he looks, there’s something wonderful about his cock as it is here. He lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder with a moan if your name.

“Oh… you’re…”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree, a genuine smile passing your face for the first time in god knows how long. He’s just the right length and on the thick side, and you know what a delicious stretch he is when he pushes inside of you. You can’t wait to feel it again. A couple of pumps and he’s ready, dripping precome and a ruddy red. Another time you’d bend down and taste him, remind yourself what a Time Lord’s cock is like. But now today. Well, not now.

You lay back, readjusting yourself so he can push your underwear to the side and find your entrance. A couple of fingers - those long, delicate, clever and cunning fingers - press inside you and test you out. You’re ready for him. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he realises and you laugh, properly, throwing your head back.

“Come on, Doctor. Show me that you’ve missed me.”

He used to never shut up. And now he’s stunned into a desperate silence, lining up with you and pushing in as he does his best to make you feel what he’s been feeling too.

A loneliness is fixed. He slides home inside you and your hips meet, the both of you letting out a long and ragged breath. You sit there for a moment, locked in the most intimate embrace, and just feel each other. You fist your hands in his shirt. He’s here. He’s real. You feel him trace his palm up your back as if you assure himself of the same thing.

Slowly he begins to move. It is a long and lovely drag, his cock hitting all the points you missed being touched, and when he feels you gasp he goes harder. The Doctor nuzzles into the skin of your neck, nestling to the warmth of you there, and you hear him repeat a mantra both of your name and “I love you”.

Over and over. As if the two phrases are inextricably linked.

You’re so full. You’re so light. Everything feels perfect in this moment. And when he reaches between your bodies to touch your sex, push you to the edge, you know you’ll climax for him embarrassingly fast.

When you come you see stars light up behind your eyes. The sky, the unfiltered and untamed sky takes you over. The Doctor says your name one final fine and releases inside you, his hips riding it out as if to savour every second in the sweet grip of you.

He can’t look at your face when he asks you. He says it from the safety of your shoulder where his face is buried, because if you say no you know his heart will shatter.

“Come with me, in the TARDIS again. I know I shouldn’t ask you to leave your home but… you complete me, you know. Always have.”

“Leave my home?! Doctor, don’t be daft. This is just a house in bloody Hackney. You’re my home.”

You pull back to meet his gaze. He’s tired, but bright. His eyes twinkle. And there’s the Doctor you know.

“And of course,” you continue. And, as the smile engulfs his face and he lights up, “it’s not like I’m doing anything else, am I?”

This time, when you go AWOL from your job, you never come back.

#The doctor x reader #Doctor who x reader #the doctor x you #david tennant x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #14th doctor x reader #fourteenth doctor x reader #my writing #full disclosure only seen the star beast so far lol

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