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eccentricwritingbaby · 1 month

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funny wife, happy life

carlos sainz x wife!reader

summary - the grids beloved couple have begun a prank war, subjecting the drivers and fans to their hilarious antics

masterlist

request by anonnie :) thank you love! - hey you could write about carlos that he and Y/N his wife that they are the funniest couple in the paddock that Y/N has the same personality as carlos that they often play pranks on each other on tiktok

your knees were cramping, on the verge of giving out, as you held your hidden position in your husband’s drivers room. charles had told you he’d be back in a few minutes. a few minutes. ha! you’ve been sitting here for ages and you’re about to collapse. until finally you hear the sweet, sweet sounds of your husband's laugh approaching you quickly. you give a quick scramble to collect yourself and pull up your tik tok account in order to record the heart attack soon to be inflicted upon carlos. the door handle jiggles and opens, alerting you of his presence. his footsteps become closer to your hidden position behind a few large items and abruptly stop. you take it as your queue to jump but before you can-

“BOO!” your husband screeches at you with his phone in your face as you let out a mirroring yell and fall backwards on your ass.

“AYE DIOS MIO!” you hold your hand over your racing heart and carlos crumples to the floor in a fit of hysterics. you can’t help but join in soon, but not without playfully swatting at him in a joking matter of pretending to be angry.

“mi-mi amor,” carlos tries his hardest to get out in between laughs as he begins to sit up, “you’re too easy!” he falls again, most likely due him replaying the scenario again in his head.

“aye! easy? i believe i remember you begging for a date with me, señor,” you continue to chuckle at his phrasing, teasing him relentlessly felt like a duty to you.

“whatever,” he brushes off the playful comment and turns his attention to the video he recorded of you on his phone, “y/n, this is too funny,”

“si, bueno. i wish i got that video of you instead, though” you act out a solemn expression and carlos sees right through your jokes.

“well you didn’t, loser. i’m posting this,”

you and carlos had opted for a night in after the race due to his fatigue and your absolute need for a shower. after lando had pleaded with you both for a minute to rethink your decision as you were walking back to the hotel, he ultimately gave up trying and muttered a slight ‘old married couple’ at you and carlos while the both of you just laughed at his mini tantrum.

once inside your hotel room, carlos headed for the shower, but stopped and turned when he noticed you weren’t following.

“i thought you wanted to shower, amor?” he asked in your direction.

“i do, but i kind of want to shower alone tonight, lo siento,” you respond while biting your lower lip to not give away your amusement. see - you had a plan. while carlos was in the shower you were going to get to the vanity and paint on a fake hickey. set up your phone. and get him back for ruining your prank earlier.

carlos stands looking at you with a bit of skepticism. you rarely shower separately, only when upset with each other and he was beginning to worry, “aye, are you mad about earlier? me scaring you?”

“love, the only thing that is scaring me right now is how stinky you are. i’m not mad i just don’t need a smelly shower with you,” you shrug off his accusation with a laugh in order to lighten the mood and your husband catches on, chuckling with you.

“okay, you don’t need to tell me twice,” he begins to make his way over to you with his arms out wide, “you do want a stinky hug before i hop in, no?” calling your bluff he tries to latch his arms around you as you scream and try to run away.

“sto-stop!” you giggle as he grabs you in his arms, “eww! carlos!” the whine slips from your lips as he starts planting kisses all over your neck and face, tickling you causing you to let out more laughter. his grip loosens and he backs away towards the bathroom, grabbing his change of clothes off the dresser as he does so. one arm raised and a finger pointed at you he lets go of a very loose warning, “this isn’t over, cariño,”

“oh no!” you gasp in dramatics, “the tickle monster! what am i five?” carlos just laughs and releases a ‘loca’ under his breath as he shuts the bathroom door and turns on the shower. you then quickly get to work with your makeup, planting the perfect looking hickey in a place he hasn’t seen all day, but will very soon. once it was done, you discreetly hide your phone and patiently wait on the bed for carlos to leave the bathroom.

fresh out of the shower, your husband steps into your room with just a pair of sweatpants on as he continues to run the towel over his damp hair. you take that as your sign to begin your prank and tie your hair up into a bun - giving carlos the perfect view of your neck. walking over to him, you plant a kiss on his lips and step back from him as he turns his attention towards his wife. looking you up and down for a second, making eye contact with the hickey, you feign confusion and innocence by proceeding to ask, “que, mi amor? is there something on my face?” you attempt to turn and ‘check’ yourself in the mirror, but carlos pulls on your arm, spinning you around to face back at him. he quickly discards the towel in his hand, throwing it to the floor, as he looks closer at your neck.

“did you hurt yourself, cariño?” he asks softly, “maybe with one of your hair tools or something,” he finishes as if he’s almost assuring himself.

“no? what is this carlos?” you question, trying your damnedest not to let out a smile.

“tienes algo en el cuello,” you have something on your neck uh oh. carlos only spoke direct spanish with you when he was deep in a feeling - lust, happiness, anger. “parece un…” it looks like a…

“que?” you ask softly.

“a hickey, y/n. it looks like a hickey. y sé muy bien que no fui yo quien te dio esto,” and i know very well it was not me that gave you this

“oh, oh that? ya, um, actually that might be from my curling iron, you were right!” responding lightly only made carlos narrow his eyes at you further.

“y/n, qué hice mal,” what did i do wrong?

“oh no, carlos, baby, nothing- you did nothing wrong,” you panic at his sadness and hold his face in your hands, “it’s just a prank, los, te lo prometo,” i promise you

he looks down at you, widening his eyes in hope before he says anything, then you hear - so quietly you almost miss it, ‘take it off’.

“i will, i will baby. come here, come with me,” you lead him into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup wipes in haste and rubbing the fake hickey right off your neck. you hear your husband let out a long and deep exhale before he gives your sides a squeeze.

“you just took ten years off my life with that stress, amor,”

“lo siento, carlos. i’ll even show you the video where i put it on if that makes you feel better,” you turn around in his hold and give him not one, not two, but three quick pecks to the lips as you drag him back into the room to retrieve your phone. as of that moment, carlos begins plotting his revenge.

the next week, your husband and you arrive early at the paddock for race day due to his necessary media duties. with your hands intertwined, you begin making your way to the ferrari garage - passing a few reporters and fans on the way. while making your way, a few fans had called out to the both of you. carlos always joked that his fans loved you more than him, but every joke has a bit of truth to it.

“y/n! carlos! over here! can we get a picture?”

your husband - ever the gentleman - turns his attention to the young group of girls at the barricade and leads you both over to them. once carlos had signed a few things and taken a few pictures, you both turn to leave but are prevented by the girls.

“y/n! can we get a picture with you too!” carlos checks you over, asking you non-verbally if you’re okay with it and you slightly nod in his direction to signify the answer. bending down and over slightly, the girls grab a few selfies with you and speak to you about their love for your tik toks, tweets, and overall personality. with your light ego boost, you turn and chuckle to your husband.

“isn’t it great that your fans love me more?” you give him a sly smile and a poke to his stomach as he laughs along with you.

“aye, they’re just saying that to make you feel better, amor,” he shoots back quickly.

“nuh-uh,” you scoff back, “they love me so much more, i think i better be the one to race today,” at this point the girls are recording your interaction while giggling at the banter your husband and you have provided.

“in your dreams, cariño,” he bites back with a smile.

with that comment, you whip around to face the group, “do you hear how he speaks to me? my own husband! he hates me!” you sigh dramatically as carlos pulls you into his arms. the crowd before you erupts in laughter at your antics and your husband bids polite goodbyes, leading you away. you’re both leaving in cackles as you continue to jab each other back and forth.

as you round the corner to the ferrari garage, you both run into fernando walking towards aston martin.

“hola, nando!” you call out with a wave. he stops curtly and leans in your direction, arms parting for a hug. you receive it kindly, swaying lightly back and forth all while exchanging pleasantries.

“aye, he oído felicitaciones están en orden,” i hear congratulations are in order fernando presses with a smile.

“porque felicitaciones?” why congratulations? you ask back to him.

“oh! lo siento, ¿se supone que nadie debe saberlo?” i’m sorry, is no one supposed to know?

your confusion ends when you turn to your now - dying laughing - husband at your left, “¿le dijiste a todo el mundo que estaba embarazada?” did you tell everyone i was pregnant?

carlos can’t even shake out words at this point due to laughter as he just begins to vigorously nod his head yes. fernando takes this as his sign to head back in his previous direction, chuckling under his breath something about ‘these damn kids again’.

“you’re dead, carlos sainz,” you state matter-of-factly at him.

“i’m sorry, me or my fathe-”

“YOU KNOW WHO!” you yell back, cutting off his smart ass comment, “does the whole grid really think im fucking pregnant, you ass?” this time carlos’ laughter is cut short and he just slowly shakes his head yes, nervousness now overwhelming his features instead of amusement.

“do you now realize how stupid that was?” you ask him again. again he slowly nods his head yes, his eyes only meeting his shoes. out of your peripheral, you can see lando approaching the both of you and he holds out his arms in glee.

“there are my favorite soon-to-be parent-”

“SHUT IT!” you snap in his direction, “the only child i will be raising for the foreseeable future is the one in front of me,” you nod your head towards carlos, and his eyes - again - never leave his shoes. lando begins to laugh even louder than your husband did before at his friend being scolded like a child.

“oh i am so tweeting about this,” he lets out between laughs.

you take a glance over at your husband and whisper a light ‘karma’ into his ear before you kiss his cheek and head off to find his family in the garage.

after the race, carlos is doing interviews and you are searching to find him. not being in the media pen, but instead just along the gates talking to reporters, you easily walk up to your husband and wait over to the side for him to finish. the reporter speaking to him notices your presence and begins to wave you over. you shake it off quickly, wanting your husband to have his shining moment, but instead he also joins in waving you over - causing you to reluctantly head in their direction.

“hi!” you squeak out to the reporter, carlos pulling you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“hi, y/n! thank you for joining us for the interview!” the young woman starts.

“thank you for letting me crash!” you reply back with a giggle.

“not crashing, you’re here by invitation,” your husband speaks up, kissing your forehead after doing so.

“i’m sorry if we were too forward to invite you,” the reporter chimes in fast.

“no, no!” you assure back, “i just didn’t want to outshine ‘ole carlos over here, you know how it is,” you joke, giving the reporter and your husband a laugh.

“for sure,” the young woman gives you, “we love you two as a couple, you both have been informally deemed the grids funniest couple with all your banter and tik tok pranks, how do you both feel about that title?”

“it’s a heavy weight to carry,” you dramatically sigh, “i have to keep the people on their toes and give them what they want,” the reporter laughs once again at your comments as you shrug before your husband chimes in, “funny wife, happy life - right?” you all share one more laugh before the reporter lets you two depart.

as you’re walking out of the paddock, hand in hand, you reach up on your toes to plant a kiss to carlos’ lips. he hums back in approval, stopping you, with his hold moving to your waist and pressing deeper. you smile into the kiss and can feel him doing the same. once pulling apart, your husband stares into your eyes, the contact moving from eye to eye to lips. you almost crumble watching him shamelessly adore you.

“what are you thinking about, amor?” you gently ask, attempting not to ruin the soft moment with loud diction.

“just how much i love you, cariño,” his reply is simple, yet means so much. even though you both are playful with your antics and pranks, your love is something that never falters with seriousness. and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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bat-boys · 2 months

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a healer's touch

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: mentions of injury and blood, a small amount of angst, lots of fluff

summary: as a healer you meet many people as part of your profession but when you are asked to heal a certain spymaster you are unprepared for the connection that comes with it.

a/n: hello, I'm new here! I had this in my head so needed to write to down. I hope you enjoy.

It had been a regular, if somewhat busy, morning at the healer's centre in Velaris. There had been a steady queue of people coming in and out to collect medicine, ask about a rash that concerned them or even pop in to express their thanks for healing a family member. You hummed a soft, familiar tune as you mixed herbs to create a salve for one of your regular patients whose old, aching bones continuously bothered them.

It was days like this that reminded you of why you loved being a healer so much.

"Girl! Come with me. We're needed at the House of Wind." The calmness that had settled over the room was banished as Madja, the head healer, your mentor and distant aunt on your mother's side, bustled into the workroom to grab her box of salves, potions and herbs she kept on hand for moments like this.

"T-the House of Wind?" You squeaked as you set down your mortar and pestle, absentmindedly brushing your suddenly sweaty hands on your apron.

"Yes," Madja sighed, "I curse the day I gave Rhysand permission to call for me personally anytime any of his friends get themselves into trouble." The words may have been harsh, but there was a warm fondness to her tone, and you knew she fussed over the Inner Circle like they were her own children.

"But me? Are you sure?" You may have been apprenticing under Madja for nearly a century at this point, but she, your peers, and the people of Velaris consider you a skilled healer in your own right. However, this was new and somewhat scary. You had never set foot into the House of Wind and barely interacted with the Inner Circle, whom you revered and respected for the future they were building across Prythian. You knew it was irrational, but you were terrified of attending to them and your healer skills fleeing at the very moment you needed them most.

Madja stopped fussing and turned towards you, understanding flickering across her features as she took in your hands, wringing nervously in front of you.

"Y/N, you are my best student, my successor - you are ready for this." Her voice was firm in her conviction, but her smile was soft as she fondly brushed a stray strand of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, "Now come, get your things; I dread to think what they've gotten up to up there!"

The following five minutes passed in a blur as you shucked off your apron, grabbed your bag similar to the one Madja carried and met the two Illyrian lieutenants who bundled you up in their arms and flew you to the House.

From the entryway alone, you knew the House of Wind was the most beautiful home you had ever stepped foot in. Madja chuckled beside you and didn't give you time to appreciate the room's beauty before she walked ahead of you and gestured for you to follow. Your heart was thumping rapidly in your chest as you swung your head from left to right and walked through the lovely hallways, trying to capture every ornate detail that decorated the walls. You must have been staring wide-eyed because Madja gently bumped her shoulder into yours, reminding you to remain professional.

It wasn't long before she led you up a series of stairs and stepped outside into the sun's warm rays. For a moment, you let your head tip back slightly, closing your eyes to let the rays dance along your face. Down in the city, you very rarely got to feel the sun on your skin like this. There was always the long shadow of a building to obscure the sun, or you were simply too busy rushing from patient to patient to fully enjoy it.

You used the moment to centre yourself, reminding yourself of your extensive training and ability and capability to heal almost any wound. You were the head healer-in-training, and you could do this. You let your eyes adjust to the scene before you as you took in the outside training centre. The floor was covered in what you assumed was red dust, coating the hem of your dress and clinging to the brown leather of your slippers. Racks of weapons lined the walls, a ring was set up in the centre clearly for sparring, and ropes and punch bags were littered across the space, too. You could see that the training session was still ongoing, and you could hear people shouting suggestions to each other over the sound of swords clashing, but your attention snagged on the two males you saw grumbling next to each other. You knew who they were immediately and swallowed thickly as you realised it was them you had been summoned to heal.

"What trouble have you two found yourself in now?" Madja called as she walked towards the pair of them.

"It isn't our fault!" The one you immediately recognised as Cassian exclaimed.

"It never is." Madja teased back.

"We saw the guards in the Summer Court using a new training technique, and we decided to try it out…it didn't go well."

"Evidently not. You tend to Azriel, I'll take this one." Madja sighed, already moving away from you to deal with Cassian.

You faintly heard Cassian make a witty comment behind you before it was cut off with a hiss as Madja laid a hand on the cut slicing his chest. However, you were distracted as you turned to face the other Illyrian sporting a nasty injury, and made direct eye contact with those beautiful, disconcerting, ice-cold hazel eyes. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you made your way over to him, your heart slamming into your chest.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You cursed yourself for sounding breathless and for the blush that no doubt was creeping up your neck.

"I'm Azriel." His deep baritone voice sent a shiver of delight down your spine and knocked the rest of your breath from you.

"I know." You smiled at him, and he smiled very faintly back, a soft huff leaving his lips as you set your bag down and reached out your hand to him, "May I take a look?"

Early on in your training, you discovered that if your patient was conscious and capable of answering questions, you would ask consent to touch them and walk them through anything you were about to do. You found this calmed them down and created a sense of trust.

Azriel blinked at the question, not used to someone with such a soft demeanour looking after him. He didn't respond but simply extended his arm towards you. Gently, like he could bolt at any moment, you held his wrist in your hand and slowly tilted his arm to get a look at the gash you could see through his leathers.

A soft hum escaped your lips as you saw the slash in his leathers and the blood leaking through the cut to his skin. It didn't look too deep but would undoubtedly need healing if he needed to use any of his weapons anytime soon.

"I'm going to remove your leathers. Is that ok?" You asked, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him again, ready for the way his gaze knocked the breath out of you again. He simply nodded, and you smiled at him before you bent your head back to the task at hand.

Azriel barely breathed as he watched you unbuckle the strap at his wrists and then push the leathers off his arm. He had never experienced such softness from a healer or anyone before. He allowed himself to look at you, to let his eyes roam over your beautiful face. His eyes snagged on that strand of hair that had fallen from the bun that rested above the nape of your neck, and he had to physically stop himself from reaching out and discovering how soft your hair felt between his scarred fingers. He almost gasped when your fingers finally touched his bare skin, and a jolt of electricity zipped through his body at the contact.

"Oh, this doesn't look too deep; that's good!" you mumbled as you gently sponged away the blood from around the cut to get a better look at it. "Ok, I'm going to close the cut. You probably know this, but it may tingle."

The shadowsinger watched as your brows furrowed, and the hand that wasn't clutching his wrist hovered above the cut on his arm. Warmth spread down that cut, turning into a delightful tingle reverberating around his body. He had always hated this moment of being healed, cringing at the way his skin would knit together before him, almost against his will. However, he didn't feel anything as he watched the cut on his arm disappear and marvelled at the almost pleasant way your magic brushed against his.

"Thank you." Azriel sounded breathless.

"You are most welcome." He watched, unable to move, as your hands slipped from his forearm to gently trace the scars around his hand. Azriel was often jumpy around his hands, hating the way they looked, but he couldn't help marvelling at the way you touched them as if you weren't afraid or sad—merely curious: "Do your hands get stiff at all?"

"Sometimes after a long day of training or when it's cold." You could feel his eyes on you as you continued to examine his hands. You had noticed them when you had first looked at his injury, having heard of them through various whispers and rumours that filtered through Velaris. What you hadn't been prepared for was how beautiful they were. To you, the scars that had been left behind, were a testament to his strength.

"Hmmm, I thought as much," you said, looking up from his hands to meet his gaze. "I have a salve that will help if you would like it?"

"I would like that very much." His answer was very soft, and it caused the breath to escape your lungs once again.

"Pop down to the clinic when you're next in the city. I'll have it ready to collect from tomorrow. Or just send word, and I will ask a courier to deliver it to you. I know how busy you are!" You could tell you were rambling now, and from the quirk of his lips, you were also blushing furiously.

"I'll collect it myself, Y/N, I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble at all." You whispered.

"Y/N! Can you also check over this Valkyrie once you're done with the spymaster, please?" Madja's voice broke through the peaceful silence you and the spymaster were enjoying—both of you shocked but not displeased by this steady connection you seemed to have.

"Of course, I'll be right there!" You turned back to Azriel with an apologetic smile, "I'd best go; it was lovely to meet you, Azriel."

He watched as you gathered your supplies, brushing that strand of hair behind your ears, "And you, Y/N. I'll see you in the clinic."

As you walked away to tend to one of the young females who was smiling sheepishly at you, you couldn't help the butterflies that flew about in your stomach at the thought of seeing Azriel again.

…

You hadn't expected to see him walking through the door to the healer's centre the next day. So when you heard the soft tinkle of the bell above the door and turned around to greet whoever had walked through, your heart leapt into your throat, and your breath left your lungs as you beheld the Illyrian warrior who had wandered into your sanctum.

"Azriel." You whispered, similar shy smiles falling on both of your lips.

"I hope this is a good time? I wasn't sure when would be best to pop in."

"Oh no! This is great. I finished your salve an hour ago, so it's ready for you to take home." You grabbed the small bottle you had filled not long ago off the counter and passed it over to him, "Rub this liberally over your hands when they are stiff. You can also use it as a preventative measure on days you know you might need it. Let me know if you need any more and how you get on, and we can adjust some of the ingredients."

"Thank you again, Y/N," You had to hold your body incredibly still to avoid the shiver that wanted to wander down your spine at the sound of your name rolling off Azriel's tongue.

The pair of you stared at each other as silence once again settled over the room—a comfortable silence, one you didn't feel the need to fill. It was refreshing to feel that with someone, not having to say something to fill an awkward void. It was peaceful, and it surprised you to feel that with someone like Azriel, someone who was feared in every Court across Prythian, whose stories were used by parents to get their children to behave.

"When do you finish your shift?" He finally asked, breaking that comfortable silence.

"Oh! I actually finished ten minutes ago - you caught me as I was closing up."

"In that case, can I get you dinner? To say thank you for the healing yesterday and the salve." Azriel looked almost shy as he shifted on his feet, having to clear his throat a couple of times.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You were sure a vibrant blush was sweeping up your neck, and along your cheeks, at the soft smile the spymaster was giving you.

"I'd like to." His soft voice made your heart melt, and in that moment, you knew you'd give anything to spend even a second more in his presence.

"I would like that. I know a restaurant just a few minutes away that I've been meaning to try?"

His lips turned up into a broad smile, "Perfect. Lead the way."

…

If you had told yourself when you had joined the healer's centre all those years ago that it would lead to a friendship with your High Lord's spymaster, you would have laughed till you were hoarse. But that lovely meal you shared with Azriel in that charming restaurant along the Sidra was not the last.

Azriel had taken it upon himself a couple of times a week to drop by the centre - either just as you were about to take your lunch break or just as you were finishing up for the evening - to take you out for a meal. Together, you had explored almost every cafe, restaurant, and picnic spot on this side of the city, and each time, you had left beaming ear to ear.

He had also taken it upon himself to either call down to the centre or request you come to the House of Wind to personally attend to the injuries he received from training or whilst away on missions. You had started to suspect that he called you even for injuries he could heal himself, and you blushed furiously every time you thought about it but refused to call him out on it, even jokingly. You lived every day for those visits, for those moments between the two of you, the times after the healing when you would sit together and talk, and the easy companionship you found in Azriel.

Madja and Cassian had caught on to it, and both just smiled knowing looks when you told them you were off to the House of Wind or when you passed them in the hallway. Your frequent visits also meant that you had been introduced to Azriel's family, the Inner Circle of the Night Court. Slowly, over the months, you and Azriel developed your friendship, and you also began to cultivate friendships with the others, particularly Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian.

Cassian made you laugh with his jokes, Rhys and you bonded over your shared ambition for the future you both so desperately wanted to create, and Feyre had become a dear friend who sometimes winnowed into your small apartment in the city to have girls' nights.

You couldn't believe your luck at how your life had pivoted in the last couple of months, the happiness you now felt. All thanks to one person.

And one evening, after healing a nasty gash on Az's leg, you sat on the sofa next to him with the rest of his family scattered around you, a glass of wine in your hand and Az's wing hovering behind you to block out the cool breeze coming in through the open window you realised just much you loved him.

…

"How many times a day do I use it?" the elderly patient in front of you asked again. You gave them a soft smile before reaching for a scrap of paper and pen beside you and scribbling the instructions down for them.

"Twice a day, once when you wake up and then again before you go to bed," you handed the piece of paper over to them, and they offered you a very grateful smile. "If you see no improvements within three days, come back, and we'll try something else."

"Thank you, Y/N, truly thank you." You waved them off with a fond smile as they shuffled out of the centre.

You were just turning to offer a smile and welcome to the next person who stood in line at the large counter in the centre of the room when the main door to the centre burst open, and Cassian stood in the doorway. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. His body was heaving, and he was out of breath as if he had rushed to find you.

"It's Azriel," he thundered. Your blood ran cold, and your heart stopped dead in your chest before starting up at a thunderous pace. Immediately, you allowed your calm healer's mind to take over, silencing the roaring in your ears and the panic clawing up your throat.

"Marta! I need you to take over at the counter. If it's urgent and you can't help, call for Sara. If it's something that can wait, take note of their name and where they live, and I will personally visit them in the next couple of days. Is that ok?" You didn't wait for a reply, throwing the apron off your body and grabbing the box of supplies you always kept by your feet when on counter duty in case you needed to rush off to a patient before diving around the counter towards Cassian.

He threw an arm over your shoulder in greeting and comfort and to steer you through the crowd to a section of the street that was less occupied so he could fly you both up the House of Wind.

"How bad is it?" You mumbled as you felt his strong hands cup underneath your knees and around your back, your arms reaching up to loop around his neck.

"Bad," he grunted as he soared into the air. Being in Cassian's arms as he flew was so different from being in Azriel's. He was warm like the spymaster, but the desire to explore the air with the male wasn't there. The joy you often took in this short journey was missing.

Cassian landed heavily on the tiled floor of the entryway, back where you had stood all those months ago when you had first been summoned. The House was deathly quiet as you made the familiar walk through hallways you barely acknowledged towards the bedroom Azriel always occupied.

“Y/N.” Rhys breathed your name as you strolled towards him, and you noticed how Feyre, Mor and Nesta stood around the open door, each looking more nervous than the last.

"Rhys," you acknowledged your High Lord, someone who had become your friend in the last couple of months, "is he in there?" You asked, his head dipping in a single nod as you slipped past him into the room.

A sob almost wrenched itself from your throat as your eyes finally landed on Azriel. He was deathly pale, his body sprawled atop the covers of his bed, his wings flared out beneath him. You stared at him for a second, silently willing his chest to rise and fall with breath, and when it did, you almost screamed to whichever God would listen. A part of you couldn't help but acknowledge that he still looked handsome in this state, the proud line of his nose, the sensual curve of his lips - even as blood dripped from the huge wound in his chest and pooled on the bedsheets underneath him.

"Where is Madja?" Rhys quietly asked as you stepped into the room and dropped your supplies by the side of the bed, your hands shaking as you began to raise them to assess Azriel's condition.

"Away tending to a terminally ill family member." You tightly replied.

"Shit." Shit, indeed, you wanted to grumble, but you were also suddenly, unspeakably angry.

"With all due respect, Rhys, I have been trained personally by Madja for over a century, and I have been tending to this male's wounds personally for the last couple of months. I know his body and how it heals better than I know my own. I will take a look, and if it is beyond my capabilities, we will call for Madja, but I promise you now I will heal him." Everyone froze in the wake of your outburst, but you kept your eyes locked on the High Lord of the Night Court, a male you had grown increasingly fond of as you spent more time with Az and his family. He simply looked at you, a beat of understanding flashing in his eyes before he turned to his mate standing beside him, reaching out to take her hand and smiling softly at her before turning back to you.

"My apologies, Y/N. Please, do what you do best." His words were soft and apologetic, and you simply nodded at him before turning back to the male sprawled on the bed before you.

Your heart broke to see him in such a state, the man you had grown to love.

"What do you need?" Feyre softly asked behind you. Suddenly, you were incredibly grateful that Az had friends who cared about him so deeply and honoured that he had introduced you to them, too, and brought you into the lovely warmth of friendship.

"Two bowls of water—one warm and the other cool—and some rags, please, Fey. I also need someone to help me get him out of his leathers. Can someone close all of the curtains and drapes in this room and get some faelights in here, please?" Immediately, Cassian was in front of you, starting at the buckles on his wrists, ankles, and chest.

"Why?" Someone asked behind you, you thought it was Mor.

"His shadows. They'll help heal him, but we need to create the environment in which they thrive best: darkness." Both you and Az had tested the theory over the last couple of months and you had found he was stronger and healed quicker when his shadows were around. It was something you so desperately wanted to study further but didn't want to overstep a boundary.

Finally, between you and his best friend, you managed to wrangle Azriel out of his leathers, careful not to jostle him too much to not irritate his wound.

"How bad is it?" Cassian asked, parroting back to you the question you had asked him not ten minutes ago but what felt like hours. You ignored him for a second, taking a look at the hole in Az's chest, punched just above his heart and cutting through those beautiful Illriyan tattoos before reaching your hand out to hover over the wound to get a better feel of it.

"Bad," you mumbled, "but easily enough to heal." A series of sighs cut through the tension in the room as every member of the Inner Circle let out a breath they had all been collectively holding. "He was stabbed from the front with a blade tipped with an ash arrow, I believe. He pulled the blade from his body, but it has left some splinters behind, draining his powers and stopping him from healing. Infection has set in so I think this happened a couple of days ago, he must have gained enough strength to winnow back here before passing out."

"Do what you need to, Y/N." Rhys's voice was soft but had the undercurrent of a High Lord's command—heal my friend, he commanded. You nodded once before rolling up your sleeves and turning back to Azriel.

For hours, you worked at healing Az, praying to the Mother throughout it all that he would pull through - if only so you could tell him how much you loved him.

…

There was nothing gentle about the way Azriel surfaced to consciousness. One moment he was swimming in darkness, and the next, his eyes shot open, and he sucked in a huge faltering breath. After years of meticulous training, his senses immediately began to take in his surroundings, and his brain was already calculating his escape route. It was only when he took in the soft bed beneath him, the familiar decorations in the room, and the female sat curled up in a chair beside him that he could recognise that he was home. That he was safe.

Safe.

He felt the twinge in his chest. He knew the moment he moved, a biting pain would radiate throughout his body, so for the moment, he just lay there. His eyes stayed focused on you, on the way you had clearly pushed a chair as close as you could to his bedside. Your hair piled up in a messy bun on the top of your head—tendrils escaping and framing your beautiful face—and a damp rag hung limply from your hand.

His shadows flitted around him, whispering your name to him in a fond way he had never heard them speak of another before. They told him how you had rushed to his side, commanded the room, and stood up for yourself and your capabilities. How you had spent hours upon hours pulling splinters out of the wound and then encouraging his skin to knit together, to heal. How you had nearly spent your entire magic to save him and had then stayed and made sure he battled the infection, sponging cool water onto his skin, talking to him as if he was conscious.

“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice hoarse from misuse and lack of water. Immediately, your eyelashes fluttered and opened, scanning the room before landing on his awake form. Now that your beautiful eyes were open, he could see the smudge of purple underneath each one, and a pang vibrated through his chest at the thought of this incredible female staying by his side even when you were exhausted.

"Az." You whispered back, tears begin to shimmer in your eyes as you took in the shadowsinger finally awake. Still pale and far from healed entirely, but awake.

He winced slightly as he reached out and hesitated somewhat before gently cupping your jaw, stroking his thumb along your cheek and catching the tears slipping free.

"Thank you." You knew his shadows had whispered to him that you had almost depleted yourself for him and risked yourself to heal him.

"You scared me." His face crumpled at your words as he saw in your eyes the terror you went through for those hours you weren't sure he would make it through. Guilt ate at him for not spotting the trap that had been laid for him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was ambushed." He continued to brush his thumb over your skin, and you let the feeling ground you and reassure you that he was here and alive.

"I don't need to know," he heard what you were saying, that you didn't want to know, "do you want to sit up?"

"Yes, please." You moved swiftly and efficiently, having done this for so many patients before Az. You gently scooped under his arms and lifted his weight so he could move to a sitting position. He winced as the movement tugged on his newly stitched-together skin, but with your expert handling, he wasn't in too much pain. "How long was I out for?"

"A day and a half."

"Shit. I need to debrief with Rhys." He made to sit up further, to swing his legs over the side of his bed, but your hand was instantly there on his shoulder - softly but firmly pushing back.

"Later. Once you've had some water and food, and I've had a chance to assess your wound again."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirked and gently took the hand that was on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and running his thumb comfortingly over your knuckles.

Another soft silence settled over you both, and Azriel found himself glancing down at your connected hands, "That day we met was the first time someone had dared to look closely at my hands. It was also the first time I saw someone examine them and not flinch."

"Your hands are beautiful, Az." Your voice was soft, still shaky from crying.

"You don't need to say that Y/N."

"No, I'm serious," you frowned, "your hands are beautiful, and they are strong - just like you." You both watched as you trailed your fingers across the back of his hands, tracing the lines of scar tissue. "I was so scared when Cassian burst into the centre, but that didn't match the terror when I saw you unconscious, and I didn't know if I would get a chance to tell you how much you mean to me." He could hear the emotion building in your voice again.

"Come here, sweetheart." His face was soft as he held his arm out and motioned for you to come closer. A sob lodged itself from your throat as you shifted, taking care of his wings and injury, to slip onto the bed and move into the warm space of Azriel's body. Immediately, you curled into his side, carefully slipping a hand around his waist to hold him closer. Az curled his arm around you, and the feeling of being in his arms, being held by him, had your heart soaring in your chest.

"Did it snap in place for you?" he asked softly, and you knew what he was asking—he was tugging at that soft thread that now sat between you.

"When I saw you lying there unconscious. You?" That moment when your eyes had landed on Azriel on his bed, true terror had speared through you as that bond had snapped into place, and you had realised it was your mate lying there in the space between life and death.

"That first day, when you held my hands so gently and offered me that salve." His voice held so much emotion, and you felt warmth trickle down that thread and disperse throughout your body as you both acknowledged the bond.

"Az." He closed his eyes at the sound of his name on your tongue, and he could never get tired of hearing the way you said it as you propped yourself up to look at him.

"We can talk about it later, about what you want to do and how we move forward. You don't have to make any decisions now." His hand stroked the skin on your exposed arm, the other finally brushing that strand of hair out of your eyes. A frown fell on your face at his words.

"I hope you are talking about how we accept the mating bond and not whether I want to accept it in the first place. I am honoured to be your mate, Azriel, and to get the chance to love you for the rest of our lives." He was sure he had stopped breathing, convinced he was still dreaming. That you would be willing to spend the rest of your life with him, to love him the way he loved you so fiercely.

"Are you sure?" His voice sounded small, and you couldn't help the smile that danced on your lips.

"I have never been more sure of something in my life, Az. You deserve this type of love. Let me give it to you." You whispered as you closed the space between you two. Your eyes scanned his face, ready to pull away if he gave the signal that he wasn't ready. But as his breath fanned your lips, your eyes locked, and the hand that had brushed your hair aside cupped your jaw firmly in his large palm, as he surged forward to capture your lips in his.

Immediately, fireworks erupted behind your eyes at the delicious feeling of his lips moving against yours, wave after wave of pleasure rolling down your spine as you tilted your head back to give him more access. A soft moan slipped past your lips when Azriel gently nibbled on your bottom lip, causing a gasp, which he swallowed expertly with his mouth. You felt Azriel's hand slip from your jaw to cup the back of your neck, holding you firmly as the kiss transformed from something sweet into something else, something more wonton, something close to fire.

Far too quickly for your liking, Azriel pulled away, gasping for air. Your eyes fluttered open as he rested his forehead against yours, a soft grin dancing on both of your lips as you made eye contact and saw the emotion swimming in both of your eyes. Azriel watched, entranced, as he swiped his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. Your eyelids fluttered as a soft moan escaped again between your lips; Azriel wondered if that was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

"My mate. I have waited for over five hundred years for you." He whispered into the heated air between you.

"I hope I was worth the wait." You joked. Azriel couldn't help but close the space again at your words to press his lips to yours again in a soft kiss this time.

"You definitely are." Your toes curled at his tone, and as his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.

"The healer and the spymaster… there's a story there, I think." You grinned as you brushed his hair back off his forehead, wanting to take in every inch of emotion that he was freely displaying on his face.

"And we will write it together," he promised, and you couldn't help the matching grins on your faces as you leant forward again to join your lips together in another spectacular kiss—knowing that for the rest of your very long life, you would never get tired of kissing Azriel, your mate.

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rileyslibrary · 6 months

Text

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Text

No one else but you

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Summary: You and Price broke up months ago after a bad fight and you're still reeling from it. You're utterly heartbroken, but with the less that great wisdom of your friends, you decided to try and jump into another relationship to solve the hurt - one that was bad from the beginning. Will Price showing back up in your life get you out of it? Or will you be left with no one at all.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Angst with a happy ending, fluff, cheating boyfriend (not price), Smut (no mention of reader genitals), soft dom!Price, nickname Daddy used, pinning down, dirty talk, praise

-💘-

Realistically you knew that you’d see John Price again one day, you just hated that it had to be that day. That day that you were on a date with your new boyfriend. The day after you’d just made things official. Pretty much right after you'd just gotten on at said boyfriend for distracting himself with his phone the whole time. Now you were the one that was distracted.

You and Reid hadn’t been dating long, just barely a month and half. You’d asked the night before about where he saw things going and then somewhere along the way in that conversation he asked if you brought it up because you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Then you supposed that’s why you did ask, and said yes, and he’d agreed to it.

Of course you’d felt kind of happy about it at the time, but now - after locking eyes with your ex, who offered you a crinkly eyed smile before turning to the barista - you felt like there was a pit in your stomach. It was as if your belly was made of lead. Had you made the right decision?

“Hello, are you listening to me?” Reid laughed, waving his hand in front of your face. “Weekend plans. Next weekend. Selena’s cabin. Need a yes or a no. She’s messaging me about it and you were the one that just ranted to me about how I wasn’t paying attention to you.”

“Hmm? Sorry, what?” you asked, resuming eye contact with your boyfriend. “Where’s the cabin again? Who’s Selena?”

It was so unfair, you thought to yourself. Why was Price here now? You’d figured after being deployed he’d be away for a long time, but slowly you came to realise that it had been ages since you’d seen him. 3 months in fact.

And now he was there in the cafe, standing in line for a tea you presumed, looking as handsome as ever. His beard had been allowed to grow, he’d probably not had time to trim it, it was longer and even in length. His eyes looked weary and his hair was messy, probably from running his hands through it too much, you thought, and you bit your lip as you noticed he was wearing that shirt you liked. The worn green linen button up, with a pristine white T-shirt underneath of course.

“Do you know that man or something?”

You jumped when Reid pulled you out of your daze yet again, and suddenly all the bluebirds and butterflies were out of your field of vision. You’re opened up to the reality of the coffee shop, all the whirring and buzzing machines and emphatic chatter of all the tables around you. It was as if a spell had been broken.

You gulped awkwardly and shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Sorry, yeah…that’s my ex,” you explain with a sigh.

Even then, even while you were with someone else, you still hurt over the way things had been left. That should’ve been a bad sign, one that meant you weren’t supposed to be moving on so soon, but whenever you talked to anyone about it they just said you needed to move on and ‘shag it out your system’ - whatever that meant. John didn’t feel like the kind of man that anyone could just forget about, even when it was you that broke things off in the first place.

“Wait, the soldier guy? The one that you said beat a guy up outside that bar?” Reid marvelled, fastening his eyes to Price’s place in the queue.

“Yeah, him,” you murmured, forgetting that you’d told him about that.

“He doesn’t look like I thought he would,” Reid snorted, watching him wait for his drink. “He’s like an old guy, looks pretty harmless to me.”

You held back the protest that had come to the tip of your tongue like a hot pepper. It wouldn’t do to tell your new man that he’d get flattened by the captain if he got on his bad side - that would be asking for an argument. Instead you bit your lip and watched as Price made his way toward you both, takeaway cup in hand. You were begging whatever deity might be watching over that he wouldn’t linger long.

Though by the looks of things, he’d had a hard time trying to forget about you too. There was something in his eyes, something like relief, that made you feel he was glad to have bumped into you.

He eventually came to a stop next to your table, standing close to your side. You could smell the piney aroma of his aftershave as it rolled off of him - sprayed on to help cover the lingering scent of cigar smoke. It combined with the smell of bitter coffee and sweet cakes and left you dazedly staring at him.

“Hello, there,” he said simply

You gulped, instantly feeling your mouth go dry. What were you supposed to say back? Hello, how are you? No, you had so many other things rushing through your mind you didn’t think to respond with something normal.

Did you think about me while you were away? Did you miss me? Did you finally realise you were wrong to hurt that man so badly just because he’d pushed up against me and called me names when he thought he was supposed to get served at the bar before me? Do you think things could’ve been different afterwards? Could we have talked more and worked it out? I missed you so much, please take me away from here.

“Um…hi,” you said sheepishly, offering him a small smile. “How’ve you been? Did you just get back from deployment?”

“Yeah, just got back on wednesday there. You know how it is when I’m away. Spend the whole time worrying about everyone till we’re back home safe, don’t I?”

He’d tilted his head at you meaningfully, letting you know that he wasn’t just talking about his men. So, you thought, you struggled just as much as me.

“What about you, how’ve you been? And who’s your friend?” he asked, turning his attention toward Reid.

Price narrowed his gaze on your boyfriend and offered his hand, shoulders rolling as he did so. You didn’t miss the way he’d said friend. Apparently Reid didn’t either. Reid took Price’s hand all too willingly and firmly shook it, making eye contact so direct you wondered if he was trying to shoot lasers out of his eyes.

“Yeah, good,” you responded, watching as their handshake carried on a little too long. “This is Reid.”

“The boyfriend,” Reid added, finally snatching his hand back.

Price raised his brows and glanced at you. You could swear that you’d noticed his jaw tick, but nevertheless he smiled and patted your shoulder, his hand warm on you, even through your thick jumper.

“John Price - the ex,” he said to Reid, before turning back to you.“Good to know you’ve had someone looking after ya.”

his lips were quirking as if he’d had to force the words out.

“He uh- has been yes,” you said appeasingly, side-eyeing Reid as he frowned at you. “Someone’s got to!”

You’d laughed awkwardly, tittering away while hoping the interaction would end. Though there was no chance of Price going that easy. He stayed and nodded his head slowly, his eyes narrowing on you as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. Was he thinking of all the times that he’d been the one to look after you?

“Did you get yourself a tea then?” you asked, trying to end the awkward silence and - hopefully - send him on his way, you could ask him to go drink it in peace.

He looked down at it as if he’d forgotten the scalding cup in his hand and back at you, raising the cup just slightly.

“Know me well, love, don’t you?”

Your body all but seized as he resurrected one of his old pet names. You used to preen when he called you love. Now you were choking on your spit - actually genuinely choking.

You wheezed and gasped, quickly taking a drink of your latte to try and ease collapse of your windpipe. It might have settled if not for the fact that he started rubbing your back. That only made the problem worse. You struggled to take in the closeness of him, the warmth, how firm his hand was as he settled it over your spine.

You brushed past him and got up, offering both him and Reid an apologetic smile.

“Don’t know what’s…come over me,” you gasped, trying to find enough air to talk. “I’m just going to go to the toilet quickly!”

And before another word could be said, you rushed off to try and find some peace, desperately trying to avoid all the hustling bustling people around you. This was not good.

-💘-

While you were away, Reid and Price both stared each other down. Left to their own devices they could both drop any pretence they’d kept up while you were around, not that Reid was making much of an effort to try and appear friendly. Though now he was openly glaring at Price, letting him know that he wasn’t welcome. Trying valiantly to scare him away.

Price, meanwhile, was casting a wary eye over this new boyfriend, looking him up and down and not missing the woman’s name on his phone screen. He wasn’t the type of man to deny that men and women could be friends, but something about the way Reid had been messaging whoever it was so intently, rubbed him the wrong way. He looked from the screen and back to Reid, causing the other man to scowl.

“What was that?” Reid all but growled.

“What was what?” Price asked, raising a brow.

“Calling them love and rubbing their back like that! You said it yourself - you’re the ex. Act like it and back off!”

“Ex or not, I want you to know something. I might not be in the picture right now, but I’ll tell you this - you hurt them…and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Reid frowned, about to laugh off his threat when Price gave his rival the same look that he’d used in interrogations- the one that showed that he wasn’t above getting dirty if the situation called for it. It was then that Reid recalled what you’d told him about the fight, about how Price had almost permanently maimed the guy, he had remembered you saying that the man had had his jaw wired shut just to recover from what Price had done to him.

Reid didn’t visibly back down, but he didn’t retort back either. He pursed his lips instead and watched as you bounced back to the table in the background, relieved that you’d recovered sooner rather than later.

-💘-

“Everything ok?” you chirped, sitting back down in your chair.

“Yeah, course,” Price smiled, his eyes turning to those familiar crescent moons that you adored. “What about you? Survived, have you?”

You played with your hands and laughed awkwardly, remembering to swallow before you choked again.

“Yeah, still kicking somehow.”

“Well that’s good to hear. Listen, its been lovely to see you, but I’ll let you two get back to it, I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome. Just so you know though, if you ever need anything,” Price said, his blue eyes melting into honey, “just give me a ring.”

With that, he winked at you and left, not waiting for your response.

You huffed out a breath, only just realising that it had felt like your lungs had been fit to burst pretty much that entire time and looked over at Reid. He looked like he was going to combust. All the light that had been on his face earlier in the day had died and he looked sulkily down at his phone, angrily tapping a message into it.

“Oh my god, Reid, I’m so sorry about that,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you finally realised what had just happened. “He can be really intense, and I didn’t realise he was going to come barging up to us like that! Anyway,why don’t we get things back on track, what were you saying about going away to a cabin?”

It was Reid’s turn again to blank you now. He continued to type a message to whoever he was talking to and left you in silence, listening to his thumb angrily jamming down on the glass. You tried again and he still didn’t respond, and soon it began to feel like every tap on the screen was a hammer in the nail of your coffin.

-💘-

You had thought you’d resolved that argument that night.

You had spent the whole rest of the outing shuttered out from any conversation with him, only to spend hours when you’d gotten home locked in a bitter fight. He’d said you could’ve backed him up a bit more and made him look less like a fool, and you’d agreed and tried to tell him that you were so overwhelmed you weren’t sure how to react, though you knew you could’ve tried to have handled it better. You just weren’t sure what you would’ve been able to do differently.

There had been some back and fourth for a while, but eventually it was settled when you’d said you’d block him and delete him off of everything and that was the end of that. Or so you had so naively believed.

You’d gone along to the cabin on the Friday of the following weekend and soon it was revealed to you that that hadn’t been the end of things at all.

Everything had started off fine, it had been nice even. You’d all gotten camping chairs and had sat round a big fire drinking and getting to know all of Reid’s friends and were enjoying yourself immensely. However as the night wore on and Reid had gotten drunker and drunker - Price had eventually come up. That’s when everything did a complete 180.

Someone, for some godforsaken reason, had brought up awkward ex stories and Reid jumped at the chance to tell everyone about the coffee shop encounter. He spared no detail in making Price sound like a disgusting lecherous old man, and laughed as he told everyone about how he’d been threatened. A detail he’d forgotten to tell you when you’d had your discussion.

“You didn’t tell me about that,” you’d protested weakly, putting your hand on his thigh. “You should’ve said something. That’s not right that he threatened you.”

He shook his leg from your grip and laughed bitterly, taking another swig of his vodka. Suddenly the taste of the spirit was acrid in your throat and the smoke from the fire was stifling you. The evening was going downhill fast.

You turned around and took a glance at his friends, they were all laughing about it, apparently finding it hilarious that an old man had threatened Reid. Everyone was in hysterics apart from one of the girls, the girl who’s cabin it was. She didn’t appear to be hearing any new information, she was just smiling like a cheshire cat and opening another cocktail can.

“Didn’t take it seriously then, did I?” Reid shrugged, looking around at all the laughing faces with glee. “What’s he gonna do? Knock me over with his walking stick? That guy was like a hundred years old.”

You wanted to say that it was funny he didn’t say that to Price’s face, but immediately thought better of it. Instead you just tried to laugh it off and hope the subject changed, but ultimately it didn’t. Instead you became the group target when one of his friends had sniggered and asked if Reid wasn’t too young for you. Must be hard keeping up with someone your own age instead of someone that falls asleep when you get on top, and apparently it was the funniest jokes in the world to everyone but you.

For the whole rest of the trip his friends had kept bringing up your supposed penchant for gross old men and had kept the joke going. They brought up pictures of old actors and asked if you’d ‘smash them’ and when one of the men from a neighbouring cabin had walked by, of course an older man walking his even older doddering greyhound, they’d told Reid to hold you back before you ran off with him.

It wasn’t fair, you’d thought. Price wasn’t actually that much older than you. Sure, there was a little bit of an age gap, the lines on his face were a little deeper than other people his age and there was a bit of grey creeping into his hair, but he spent most of his time fighting and commanding big groups of soldiers. It would age anyone quickly!

However, as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, Selena (Cabin owner and supposedly happily committed friend of Reid’s) had come up to Reid on the second night while you were supposed to go away to get something to drink. Somehow, between you going away and hastily coming back to ask what he wanted instead of the drink you were out of, she’d wandered onto his lap. You stood by the patio door, no longer noticing the chill in the air and instead honed in on the fact that she was stroking a hand through his hair and murmuring to him softly and sickly sweet.

“I like your hair like this,” she’d said, her voice sultry and low. “Why’d you never style it like this when we were together.”

“Oh yeah?” Reid responded, gripping her hand in his. “I guess I hadn’t figured out how to do it yet.”

You bit your lip, not feeling like you could say anything yet, knowing that you’d only be made to look like a jealous hypocrite if you protested at an ex getting a little too close. They hadn’t actually done anything yet, you told yourself, they were just sitting together on the old deck chair. He looked like he was about to take her hand off of his head. She was barely even touching him to start with really!

Until she was.

She leaned in and sloppily kissed him, her drunken body swaying as she fought to keep her balance on top of his wobbly legs. Bile rose in your throat as you watched them together and suddenly the entire weight of the weekend was upon you. The jeering of his friends, Reid refusing to stop them making fun of you and telling you to grow up, and finally watching them both locked in a kiss that Reid was in no way trying to get away from.

You blubbered out a pathetic cry and ran to your room, grabbing your things in a blind panic and barely checking that you had everything, only really worrying about your car keys. You ensured that you had them clasped tightly in your hands, stabbing yourself with the rigid metal, and rushed to your car. You hastily threw your bag into the back and slammed the door loudly. You’d gone to open the drivers door when Reid came bounding up behind you, shouting after you and having the audacity to look angry.

You watched him rush over in a panic, and leapt into the car seat, making extra sure to lock the door as you got in. You’d done it just in time too. Just as the click of the lock had sounded, Reid angrily pounded on the window and screamed at you, telling you not to overreact and get out the car.

“I’m not overreacting, I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive, you’ve been drinking,” he growled.

“I’ve been drinking lime sodas,” you screamed back, turning the engine over as you angrily jerked the keys. “And I saw you kiss her back! If you think I’m gonna let that go then you’re dead wrong! This is over.”

“Oh, come on! I didn’t do that, you’re making things up. Just come out the car and talk to me for a minute!”

You glared at him and put your foot on the clutch, revving the car as you waited for him to get out of your way. He stood resolute and threw his arms in the sky, looking ready to rip you out of the car with his bare hands.

“If your stupid army man came over and did the same you’d probably kiss him back too!”

That did it.

You reversed the car in a flash and turned round, uncaring if you bashed into anything. As long as you didn’t run over Reid (as much as you kind of wanted to), you were happy to do anything just to get out of the drive. You turned the car successfully, even managing to leave dent free and barrelled your way down the road. Wiping furiously at your tears so that you could see your way down the unlit country roads.

-💘-

When you finally got back to your town, you weren’t able to go home right away. You didn’t have the strength to drive on. You’d been hounded with text messages and calls and the sounds of vibrations and sight of angry words had put you too on edge. You couldn’t go on.

Instead, you’d stopped in the Tesco Extra car park and rammed on your break, sitting in a relatively abandoned section near the back. You hastily turned off your phone and threw it in the back seat before draping your arms over the steering wheel, then crying into them like something out of a cheesy movie.

It wasn’t fair.

You’d just wanted to have a nice weekend away and instead you’d spent the entire time being the butt of a dumb joke and had been cheated on to boot. It felt like nothing in your life could go right.

Every one of your friends had encouraged you to get with Reid, had told you things would be much better with someone that would actually be home and not off in some random country video calling you from miles away; and at that moment you wanted to facetime each and everyone one of them and show them exactly where that advice had gotten you.

Look at my big ugly crying face and feel awful, you stupid idiots!

Even when you were mid breakdown in your car you still knew that that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t their faults he was a cheat. Instead you just kept weeping quietly to yourself and letting the hot tears roll down your face like acid, stinging at your irritated skin. It felt good to get it all out and soon you were running out of anything to cry with anyway.Your big snuffly sobs were turning into quiet breaths and eventually no sound left you as you stared ahead into nothing, the neon shop lights blurring in the corners of your eyes.

Your calm didn’t last for long though. A knock came at your window and you jumped out of your skin, bolting upright and looking at the glass with panic. At first you thought Reid had somehow found a way to follow you home, but it turned out to be worse than you’d first assumed. It wasn’t your now ex, it was the ex before him - Price.

You took a moment to catch your breath and furiously rubbed at your eyes, hoping that he hadn’t noticed what you’d been doing all hunched over in the dark. However, your motions had completely betrayed you and before you could think to roll down your window, he was coming over to the passenger side of the car and tapping on the glass again and motioning to the lock.

He wanted to get in. For crying out loud, what was this day?

You groaned, but knew there was no use denying him and weakly pulled up the lock, wincing as he wrenched open the old door and shut it with a bang.

“What happened? Are you ok?” He asked, gripping your arm with a reassuring squeeze. “Are you hurt?”

He looked ready to follow through with his supposed murder threat when he’d asked the last question. You swallowed thickly and scanned his face, noticing that he looked less tired than when you’d last seen him, he was more focused as he glared.

He had shaved the mutton chops back into his beard, but he was still wearing the old green shirt that you loved, it looked like it had been washed many times since you’d seen it. It was fraying even more than it had been.

“No, I’m ok,” you finally responded, your voice going croaky. “I just- I just had a bad weekend is all. I’d rather not talk about it. I’ll be fine once I get myself home and then I can sort myself out from there.”

“You’re in no state to get yourself home, not like this,” Price admonished, easily sliding his palm against your face. It felt cool to the touch, it soothed your burning cheek. “Did you come here to get something? Do you want me to go in for you while you wait here? Then we can figure out how to get you home.”

He made sure you were making eye contact, he was speaking in that low familiar tone he used to use with you. The one that used to send your heart sparkling like a firework fuse ready to blow. You could already feel the beginnings of a sparkler fire, there was something fizzling away and making your heartbeat flutter and skip.

“No! No, I didn’t come to get anything, I just needed to stop for a minute. You don’t have to do any of that, honestly I’d feel awful for you if you had to go trailing after me,” you laughed, trying to brush off how heartbroken you were. “Please John, don’t put yourself out all for-”

“Nonsense. Wait here and I’ll be back in a second.”

“John!” you protested, watching as he slid out of the car.

“I mean it,” he said sternly, giving you a serious look. “You move from this spot and I’ll be cross, love. Sit tight.”

There was no arguing with him. It was as if he’d tapped into some deep seeded programming and reactivated it as if he’d never left. Ill be cross love. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him.

You relaxed back in your chair and watched curiously, still rubbing your eyes of the drying salt, tracking Price as he ran over a little ways to his car and brought a bag out of it. He surveyed the car park, visibility peering around, watching for any cars that might cross his path and came back to you before very long. Efficient as always.

He drew to a stop in front of the driver's side and opened the door, beckoning you out. You frowned and crossed your arms, ready to put up a fight at him wanting to drive your car. For one thing, he hated driving it and would always come off the clutch too hard - a problem you weren’t even sure why you were worrying about at a time like that - and for another you weren’t sure you were in the right state to let him be your caretaker at that moment. You were so vulnerable and you didn’t want to hurt yourself further by being around the one man that held the key to making or breaking you.

“Are you really going to fight me on this?” He asked, tilting his head down at you.

His forehead creased and he stared at you intently, willing you out with whatever mind powers he seemed to possess. That’s how it felt like with him sometimes. He had such a knack for getting what he wanted out of you, and to be truthful it was often better that way. He knew best.

Apart from when he started that fight.

You shivered and shook the thought from your mind, taking one last look at his unbudging frame. It was useless arguing with him. He was right anyway. You were in no state to get yourself home, you were bleary eyed and weak, you’d probably end up running a red light and ramming into another car knowing your luck. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, you thought darkly, you could only take so much more.

However, you soon gave in. You went to unbuckle your seatbelt and finally realised in all your upset you hadn’t even done it up in the first place, so you awkwardly drew your hand back, looking up to see Price’s ‘I told you you weren’t fit to drive’ look. Your face flushed then and it felt like you’d touched the sun.

You recovered eventually, then sighed and stood out from the seat, winding your way round to the passenger side and settling in. He joined you in the car after that, sitting in your driver's seat and rattling the car with his extra weight. From there he settled his shopping bag on his lap and pulled out a can of coke from its box and handed it to you.

From the small peak you’d gotten he had clearly meant for the juice to be a mixer for whatever crappy whiskey he’d gotten for himself, but there was little chance of him giving you any of that while you were in the state you were in. He had a rule about you drinking when you were upset. He was already shoving the bag in the back of the car by the time you’d even amusedly thought about asking about it.

“There. You sit there a moment and drink that and I’ll get you home.”

“You don’t have to give me your shopping, John. You’re going out of your way enough as it is. You’re already leaving your car behind!” You said, motioning to his old Honda. “How will you get home after? You’re putting yourself out too much!”

“It’s just a can of juice, love. I reckon I’ll be good for it,” he snorted, finally starting up the car again. “And don’t you worry about me. Just focus on calming down and feeling better.”

It was comical watching him get used to your car again, almost enough to make you forget about the hell you’d driven away from. Price swore under his breath and grumbled as he worked his foot against the ‘stupid overly high clutch’ and ‘stiff bloody gearshift’, but he managed to get it out of the car park. Soon you were leaving the blurry red and blue lights of the shop in the distance.

You said nothing for the duration of the drive. Instead you sat obediently and drank your coke, barely thinking of anything at all as the familiar sights of the city passed you by. The McDonald’s drive through, the old ratty furniture and charity shops that littered the streets before your own, and of course the pet store you always liked to visit. The one that Price always used to suck a breath in at (he always worried you’d come home with something one day).

Meanwhile the coke bubbles fizzed and washed over your tongue, tickling at your dry throat. Admittedly it did help you to feel a little better as time went on. That with the added distraction of watching Price focusing intently on not stalling your car almost let you forget all about the shitty couple of days you’d just endured.

Finally you rolled to a stop in a parking spot just a few steps away from your doorway and the rumbling growls of your car died. The fuzz of the silence burned at your ears and eventually it was too much, you clicked your tongue and turned to Price awkwardly offering him a half smile. You were about to brush him off with a thank you, but you were beaten to breaking the quiet streak before you could even open your mouth.

“Are you going to tell me what he did?” He asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You pursed your lips and played with the empty can in your hands, causing the aluminium to squeal as you squeezed it. You didn’t want to get into it all with him. You weren’t convinced you could make it through the story without crying again, and the last thing you needed was to go blubbering into his arms when you were trying to maintain some distance. Afterall, you reasoned that it was hardly his job to pick you up from an Ill advised rebound relationship. Plus he was the very reason you’d jumped into it in the first place.

“Who said Reid did anything?” You murmured, digging your nails into the white logo of the can.

“Captain’s intuition,” Price murmured, turning fully to you now. “You can tell me, You know. I don’t want you holding yourself up in that flat and crying alone for the rest of the night. It’d play on mind and neither of us would get any rest.”

“Don’t do that,” you moaned.

“Don’t do what?”

“Make me feel guilty for wanting to sort myself out.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, I want you to feel better. And I know you won’t help yourself if I leave you alone right now.”

“I’m not a child,” you huffed, feeling your heart beginning to ache all over. “I can look after myself.”

Your chest was feeling heavy and all of a sudden you were overcome by dread. It felt like he was trying to reprise his old role again, but that’s not something he could just step right into. He couldn’t just pick up where he’d left off, you reasoned, there was hurt there and so many things left unsaid. If things went wrong he could leave you even more broken than you’d ever been before. You pictured yourself shattered like a china cup that had been dropped too many times.

“You can look after yourself, can you?” Price asked, raising his brows. “Tell me right now that you’ll go and get yourself to bed and not end up worrying all night and having a panic attack at work tomorrow, and I’ll go. Tell me how you’re going to look after yourself and I’ll leave you to it, go on.”

You withered under his gaze and folded your arms in on yourself, trying to apply pressure over your shaking torso. He was right of course. You’d envisioned in your head even before the car had stopped, shutting the door, shutting out the world and feeling the weight of it all avalanche over you. He knew you too well to think you’d take any other course of action, right down to the fact that you weren’t going to take any time off work. Which would ultimately lead to you crying in the bathroom like a schoolgirl.

“John,” you whispered, “you can’t- we can’t-“

“This isn’t about us. It’s about you, and you needing someone to be there for you. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to invade my way into your life, I just don’t want you to spend all night torturing yourself over whatever happened…just let me help you. That’s all I’m asking… It’s all I want.”

He spoke so calmly and so softly you couldn't help but melt against his will. He was making too much sense. You didn’t really have the energy to argue either, so you just nodded and got out of the car, trying desperately not to start crying again. The thought of Price still caring so much about you was pulling you under into another tidal wave of upset, and you were fighting against the rough surf just to try and make it to your door.

Price led the way, bulleting up the steps just the way he always used to. He still had your keys,so he unlocked the door and held it open while he put his hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you through. You could feel the thin glue that was holding you together being peeled away. His reassuring smile and his steady presence were making it harder and harder to hold your face as it was.

You could feel your lips go wobbly and your eyes welling up again and before you knew it you were throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing into them, rattling against him with your accompanying shaky hiccups. You weren’t even sure what you were crying about now.

Sure, you were still upset about the weekend you’d just endured, but now you were also thinking about Price and all that you’d lost when you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore. You’d told him that that fight had ruined what you’d built, and had destroyed your trust and now more than ever you knew that that wasn’t true.

It felt like John was the only person you could trust. He knew exactly what you needed and seemed to be there for you at all the right times, he looked after you and loved you and would do anything just to make you happy. He had been adamant at the time that he was justified for that fight, had worried you that it would happen again and you’d be put through the terrifying ordeal once more, but now you wondered if that had changed. If he’d realised what he’d done wrong, just as you had.

You shouldn’t have walked away. He shouldn’t have stood his ground.

You sniffled and tightened your grip on him, threading your fingers through his shirt and nuzzled into his neck. His scratchy beard tickled at your scalp, and his arms wound themselves securely around you and held you firmly against his warm body. Even through your stuffy nose, the intermingling scent of pine and cigars and cheap laundry detergent smelled like heaven in that moment and it calmed you. You’d been able to stop crying for a moment, and found yourself wiping your hands over your eyes and face yet again.

“There you go, love,” he murmured. “That’s better, isn’t it? You don’t have to fight your problems alone, you know. I’ve always said that to you, haven’t I? You don’t have to try to be so strong all the time.”

You scoffed at that, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

“Don’t feel very strong right now,” you sniffed.

“Not strong? Course you are. You always try to push through everything till I come along and stop you, eh? C’mon, why don’t we get you sitting down and get you a glass of water.”

You smiled at his comment and nodded, drifting into the comfort of being looked after by someone that knew you so well.

Price took you over to the Sofa and fluffed up one of the pillows for you to sit against, not forgetting to unfold your favourite fluffy blanket in the process. He even wrapped it around you like a soft cloud, insulating you from the world.

He then disappeared into your kitchen for a moment, rummaging around and running the tap in a couple of short bursts before returning with a full glass of water and another glass with what you presumed was jack daniels and coke. That one wasn’t going to be for you, but distantly you did wish that it was. Drinking your problems away and escaping reality sounded like a rather pleasant prospect.

“Any chance you’d like to have the water?” you asked, smiling behind the blanket.

He chuckled and set the water down on the coffee table next to you, keeping the jack and coke on hand for himself while he sat down across from you. Even though he was only on the opposite end of the couch he felt too far away.

“Can’t have that. You’re not allowed to drink when you’re upset,” he said with a wink. “Against the rules.”

“Didn’t realise I still had to abide by those rules,” you retorted.

His eyes twitched a little, you could see something in his face change when you said that. You regretted it instantly.

“No ones holding you to em’, but they’re still what’s best for you, are they not?” he shrugged, looking at you expectantly.

Price had always been very good to you, and part of that was ensuring that you looked after yourself. So somewhere along the way in your relationship, when you’d been exploring each other’s kinkier sides, Price had set you some rules. Rules you had to follow on pain of a spanking. Sometimes it was a bother, but you’d come to realise that you’d never been healthier than when you’d been with him. You’d drank lots of water and made sure to go outside and go on walks when you could, and had refrained from falling back on alcohol when something was amiss. Just to think of a few rules.

He was correct in saying that they were what’s best. It was just difficult when he wasn’t around to enforce them.

“You’re usually right,” you said with an appeasing smile. “Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love to forget this whole weekend over a bottle of wine and a big box of cake though.”

He laughed at that, all traces of consternation wiped from his face as he must have pictured you with your go to coping mechanisms before you met him. You laughed too when you remembered the night he’d barged in on you eating and drinking your sorrows after a rough day at work. He’d had the joy of hauling you to bed afterward while you babbled on about how people had been so mean to you and how you wanted to set fire to the whole place and never go back there again.

“Well in lieu of wine and cake, you have water or I can go make you a tea. Would you like that?”

“No, its fine, the water’s good,” you said dismissively, finally picking up the cool glass with your dewy palms. “I just wish I could forget this whole weekend. It’s been a disaster.”

“Oh yeah? You ready to talk about it?”

You breathed in a sharp breath and tilted your head to the side.

Fuck it, you thought.

“Reid aired our dirty laundry in front of all of his friends and then proceeded to cheat on me,” you said, raising your water glass in toast before taking a swig. “That was after everyone made fun of me the whole time too.”

Price let out a short little laugh. He was incredulous.

“Cheated on you?”

“His ex kissed him and he uh- didn’t exactly try to get away from her,” you shrugged, voice breaking

“What a fuckin’ fool,” He growled. “He kissed his ex right in front of you?”

“He didn’t know I was there, I don’t think so anyway. I was supposed to be away getting drinks, but I came back to ask him what he wanted because they were out of beer and- well…yeah.”

“Doesn’t make it any better. What kind of an idiot would cheat on you?”

You felt your cheeks warm and shrugged again. Price had his faults, but he’d never hurt you like that. He was too old fashioned. A one person at a time kind of man.

“I guess it wasn’t really an amazing relationship to begin with anyway,” you sighed, reflecting over the month you’d had.

“No?”

“When I asked him where he saw things going, he said ‘I dunno. You want me to be your boyfriend or something?’ and then that was how we made things official,” you recounted, finally realising that maybe what had happened was for the best.

Price groaned and put a hand over his face. It reminded you of the time that you’d announced to him that you were going to buy a flying squirrel after you’d seen a cute video of one - something you often took to claiming with an array of different animals - and he’d worried you might be serious. He’d taken his hand off his face at the time and said ‘darlin with the amount of stuff I’ve had flying at me over the years, I’m not sure my heart could take being assaulted by an airborne rodent in the night.’

“You must be drawn to muppets or something,” Price mused. “You deserve a lot better than that.”

“I was with you last, wasn’t I?”

“Exactly,” He smirked. “Point proven.”

You smiled back at him and shook your head - Price and Reid weren’t comparable. Price cared for you too much, that’s why he ended up in that fight in the first place and that’s why he couldn’t comprehend that he was wrong for escalating things after you’d been shoved. Reid didn’t really care for you that much at all. It wasn’t like you’d made a massive effort for Reid either, but at the very least you hadn’t gone and let Price lick half your face off.

“You let me down at the end there, I’ll give you that…but before all that, you were the best thing that I’ve ever had in my life…Even when I wasn’t with you and you were in all those far off countries, and I used to whine and moan about you being away a lot, it was better than when I was actually alone, better than anything with anyone else too.”

“Love,” Price breathed, not knowing what to say.

You stared at him then and felt your heart burst. The floodwaters opened then, you coudln’t help yourself as you saw the sad sheen of his glistening eyes.

“These past few months I think I’ve really come to see what a stupid mistake I made. I shouldn’t have told you things were over before you left. I should’ve just stuck it out till you got back and we could’ve talked about it all properly. I was just scared and angry and I didn’t know what else to do. Now I know though…now I know what I should’ve done. Just tragically too late, huh?”

You whispered your confession, too afraid to look at him anymore as you said it, instead casting your eyes down to your blanket while you played with the soft material between your fingers. You huffed out a breath afterwards and looked up at Price, noticing the way his jaw clenched and his hand tightened on his glass. His knuckles were almost bone white.

Had you said too much? Were you going to chase him away? Who knows if he’d moved on and was really just trying to be there and be a friend for you.

For a split second you worried that you’d gone too far with your venting, but Price didn’t leave you hanging for long. He leaned forward and put a hand on your thigh just as you were about to apologise and held eye contact with you, keeping a firm hold of you and your attention.

“Darlin’...do you really mean all that?”

Your eyes would’ve welled up again if you had anything left to cry.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but yes. It’s been all that I’ve thought about since I saw you last week.”

“Sorry? What’re you sorry for?” he said, laughing gently, searching your face.

“It’s not fair to tell you something like that. I’m basically ambushing you with all my feelings right now and you’ve been nice enough to drive me home and look after me, when all you were trying to do was get some shopping in and now you’re here listening to me blubber about my stupid feelings, when I haven’t asked you how you feel and how you’ve been doing and you probably don’t even want me by this point, because look at me and big tear streaked face, and-”

Price cut you off mid ramble, moving in closer to you and taking your face in his hands. They were rough and familiar and they were warm, and they held you steady just as you felt like you were going to come apart again. You breathed, but it didn’t feel like your lungs were able to hold onto the air. They were fighting for space with your booming heartbeat.

“Angel…you really- do you think,” he had to pause for a moment, his voice crackling. “Do you think maybe it’s not too late to talk more about it? Not now, course, but… you think you’d want to give us another chance?”

You pursed your lips and looked down. Angel. His favourite nickname for you, the special one he reserved only for you. You looked back up to his wide blue eyes and nodded. It seemed like you were glittering in the reflection of them.

“Yes…One day,” you smiled.

Price smiled back, his moustache turning up with his lips.

“One day,” he repeated, voice full of wonder.

Neither of you said anything for a second. You both just stared, tension mounting as the air felt so thick that you could craft shapes with it. It felt like neither or you was sure of your next move, but suddenly you got a burst of courage and you decided to take a leap of faith.

You kissed him. You leaned forward just slightly and took his mouth in yours, pecking at first until he kissed back and eventually your world was bursts of stars and hints of jack and coke. The taste of him landed deliciously on your tongue. Your heart pounded harder than ever at that point, but it was ok, because you could feel his beating erratically just the same.

You moaned.

“Please, daddy...”

You let the words loose before you could even think about it. What is it they say about old habits…?

“Shit, hold on, I-” you sputtered, breaking away from Price completely.

“Language!” he chuckled, his laugh low and earthy.

You paused and looked at him measuredly, trying to parse out what had just happened. In the wake of all the familiarity, you’d resorted to your old name for him. Apparently he wasn’t against its resurrection, he’d found it amusing in fact. You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, searching for the right words, but you weren’t entirely decided between apologising or asking if he liked it.

“Don’t look so worried, Angel,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “You can still call me that if you like. Or are you apologising for kissing me?”

“But…well…isn’t it a bit unfair for you..y’know, since we haven’t really completely resolved things yet? I can’t just go around kissing you out of the blue and calling you daddy and we haven’t even talked about-”

“Would you stop rambling on about what’s fair and right,” Price admonished, rolling his eyes, “I don’t care about what you’ve been doing all these months, I don’t care about doing things by whatever rules people normally go by. All this time, all I’ve wanted is you, and now you’re here in front of me telling me you want to give things another go…I’ll take as much as you’ll give me. So tell me…do you want to kiss me? Will that make you happy? It would make me happy.”

You took a breath and nodded.

“Words, Angel,” he admonished.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, feeling like your head had been sparked with a jump lead.

“Very good,” he praised, whispering lowly into your ear.

You shivered as you felt the words zip down your spine. You hummed with the praise and felt your body warm up considerably, feeling entirely too hot all of a sudden.

Price soon gathered you in his arms like clay and moulded you into his lap, untangling you from your blanket nest and switching places so that he was propped against the arm and you were leaning snugly against him. With you both comfortably in place, he put one hand on your hip while he held the back of your neck with the other, and gently placed a couple of kisses on your neck, sending your spine alight with tingles.

“And would you like to call me daddy again?” he asked again, still murmuring deep and low.

You swore then that he’d disturbed a horde of butterflies that you didn’t know had been dormant all that time inside your tummy. Your heart was fluttering along with them.

“Um, yeah, I mean- yes. Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he urged, kissing your neck. “You know how to answer properly. I know you do.”

Were you in a fantasy of your own making? Had you died and gone to heaven?

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimpered, nuzzling your head into his chest.

“Oh…” he breathed, voice all growly and needy. “That’s my sweet Angel. So good for me.”

You could’ve died then and there. You couldn’t imagine ever feeling happier. You didn’t care if it was a fever dream, coma hallucination or a psychedelic induced fugue state. All you wanted was to be with Price again, and with him reassuring you and praising you and holding you in his arms like that, why would you try to fight it?

You unburrowed yourself from his chest and scanned over his face, admiring his crinkly eyed smile and scruffy face for a moment before kissing him again, wrapping your arms around him snug just in case it really was all a dream. You wouldn’t let it fade away. You were going to hold on tightly. You’d continue to kiss his fluffy bearded face and welcome every sensation as it rooted you in your dreamlike reality.

You intertwined yourself with him and moaned, returning his kisses with fervent need and roamed your hands around his back, eventually bringing a hand up so that you could thread your fingers through his wiry dark hair. The bristle of it jolted through you and you smiled against his lips.

“That feel good, hm?” he growled, “I can feel you bucking your hips against me, love.”

You felt your cheeks burn like hot coals and refused to meet his eyes, instead settling your chin on his shoulder. You hadn’t realised you’d been doing it, but now that he’d mentioned it you finally registered the sway of your body gliding over his and noticed the growing hardness underneath you.

Fuck.

“That does feel good,” you whimpered, not embarrassed enough to stop yourself. “Feels so good, daddy.”

“Mhmm? Feels good for me too. I love feeling your body on mine,” he hummed, kissing the side of your neck. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that? So so perfect.”

You whined and nuzzled against his neck, drawing out a low groan from him as your nose connected with his tender flesh. You slowly returned the favour, kissing him just as he’d been kissing you and showing him exactly how it felt to have your body set alight with prickling heat. You smiled as he continued to moan with you, but it didn’t last long.

He snatched the upper hand back, and propelled you both forward, forcing you to lie back on the couch, on top of your blanket, while he took his place on top of you. He ground his hips into yours and had you eking out the most salacious moans, filling the room with the sound of your pleasure.

“I love it when you moan for me like that, I’ve missed that sound so much,” Price rumbled, “do you want more? Would you like that?”

“Mm, yes,” you keened. “More, daddy. I want to feel you.”

“Wanna feel me, hm? Ok, Angel. Lets get these clothes off shall we?”

You moaned just at the suggestion and eagerly complied, sitting up a little and helping him to remove your top and trousers until you were naked below him. You were about to ensure that he matched you in kind, but the only thing he’d allowed you to remove was his shirt, hastily popping the buttons off like you were unwrapping a present. He’d put his hand over yours at his trousers and given you a wicked grin, a glint appearing in his azure eyes.

“Uh uh, don’t you worry about that,” he smiled, bringing your hand up to his lips so that he could kiss it. “We’re focusing on you right now.”

“But I wanna make you feel good too,” you whined, tilting your head.

“I know you do,” he laughed, gently pushing you back down so that you were flush to the couch. “Just trust me, this will make me feel very good. Just let me treat you like you deserve.”

He didn’t allow you any more time for backchat. You whimpered as he fastened his mouth around one of your nipples and you writhed at the sensation, moaning low in your throat when he trailed his hand down your body, past the swell of your belly and drifted down below. You were bucking your hips against him slowly again, creating friction between you and his hand.

He alternated between nipples for a moment, swirling and flicking his tongue while he lazily rubbed his palm against you, not in a rush to try and urge you to a finish. He savoured you and sent your body sparking and prickling like a freshly lit firecracker. Your breathing was getting heavier and your stomach was tightening and coiling and it only grew more and more erratic as he started to move down your body, kissing his way down to the opening between your thighs.

“So good for me lying there. So obedient. You always do what daddy tells you, don’t you?” he growled, planting a kiss just below your belly.

“Mm, yes,” you breathed, struggling to think of any words

“Yes what?” Price asked, nipping the meat of your thigh and drawing out a yelp.

“Yes, daddy!”

He was using his tongue on you now, swirling it around and tasting you, savouring your pleasure. You swallowed the lump in your throat and clutched at the couch cushion next to you, scrunching the thick material in your hand, clutching it for support. It didn’t take long until he fell into a steady rhythm, using his mouth and hands on you and sending you into a spiral.

Your mind was barely present anymore, you were only good to use a couple words and no more. Everything else was just moans while your head felt like it was turning to mush. You breathed deeply and heavily and thrust your hips against Price, feeling the coil in your belly tighten all the more, feeling the stars in your eyes turn from constellations and into tiny galaxies and universes.

“I- um- Daddy, I-”

“Are you gonna cum for me, love?” Price rasped.

“Yes!”

“Go on then. Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel, Angel.”

You groaned and the swelling feeling in your head boiled to breaking point. You shuttered your eyes closed tightly and squeezed the couch cushion tightly, moaning out as your orgasm washed over you. The wave of pleasure rushed over your body and after a big rush of pleasure, it lapped slowly over you, gently receding until you were left a shaking twitching mess underneath your lovers body.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, blinking away the fuzziness form your eyes. “Holy…Moly.”

Price looked up at you from between your thighs and barked out a laugh, clutching his head in his hand while the other gripped your shaking thigh. Once he recovered from your outburst, he shook his head and clambered up your body, coming to a rest against next to you, and drawing you into his arms.

He was rock hard against you, but there was very little you could do about it in the state you were in. You just bustled yourself into him and lay your head against the warm expanse of his chest and sighed happily, basking in the aftershocks of your happy ending he rubbed your arms.

“You’re not gonna let me return the favour, are you?” You’d mumbled eventually, rutting up against him for emphasis.

“Got plenty time for that, Angel,” he said gently redirecting you off of his throbbing centre. “Just wanted to make you feel good. You’ve had such a rough day, you deserved something to take your mind off it all.”

He placed a kiss on top of your head then and drew you closer, wrapping his arm tighter around you. You sighed and ran your fingers along it, feeling the little dark hairs tickle at your finger tips. You came to a stop at his palm and lightly traced over his lifeline, it was illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp.

“How come you were out shopping so late?” You asked sleepily, letting your hand drop and rest at Price’s side.

He shrugged at first, rocking your body with the movement.

“Sat around feelin’ a bit useless today,” he said eventually, sighing deeply. “Didn’t have anything lined up for myself, so eventually I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I went all the way out to the hills and was out for hours, didn’t get back until after dark and then i realised I didn’t have anything to eat. How come?”

“I dunno…i guess its just a little funny that you ended up in that car park just when I needed you to be there. Like fate or something,” you murmured.

He chuckled at that and kissed your head again. The sound washed over you like spring rain.

“You know I don’t normally subscribe to rubbish like that, but on this occasion…it feels like there’s something to that theory.”

“Yeah? Feel’s like a good thing to be saddled with me again, does it?” you smirked, trying to cover up how worried you were about being a burden.

No matter how good he’d made you feel only moments before you couldn’t help the rush of paranoia from kicking in. The feeling that Price was going to realise that you were too much to be with, that you needed him more than he needed you. It had begun to feel like the past few months were a great demonstration of that. He’d survived a warzone and gotten through deployment while you holed yourself up for over a month from grief and then jumped into a failed relationship in the making just to try and get over him.

“Listen to me, love, before you get any big ideas about this being some kind of hardship for me again…This past week that I’ve been back has been miserable. Deployment was bad, but I had a bit of distraction over there at least. When I got back here, and realised what life was really like without you? That was hell. You give me purpose, Angel. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now, than cuddled up with you on the couch. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, no one in the whole world.”

He swallowed harshly and continued on.

“When I thought I’d lost you forever I was so angry with myself, I realised right away when I got on that plane that I should’ve just admitted that you were right. You were right, and I shouldn’t of hurt that man like that. I lost control of myself and I was too stubborn to hear that he wasn’t really a threat. I wanted to call you and tell you that, but I figured you’d been hurt enough and the last thing you needed was me playing with your feelings and trying to work things out while I was away. I reckoned that if I came back and you were open to give things a go again I’d make sure to fix things, but if you wanted to keep me out your life then…well I’d have wished you the best. Whatever happens between us, now or in the future, I want you know that I only ever want what’s best for you, because I…”

He trailed off, peering toward the lamp and letting his eyes blur into its amber glow. You stared up at him from your place on his chest and smiled, watching the way his lips tried to form to finish his sentence. He was pensive, he wasn’t sure whether to say them or not.

“Because you love me?” you smiled, swivelling so that you faced him fully.

You finally had a little strength flood back into your body, so you hoisted yourself up and lay on your tummy, folding your arms over his chest and resting your chin on top of them. He tilted his head at you and smiled, affirming your words with a tight nod.

“I’ll always love you,” he sighed, “No matter what. Just wasn’t sure if it was entirely appropriate to say that to you just yet.”

“John, you just threw me around and made me cum while I called you daddy - appropriate ran out the door and flew to the moon like a half hour ago,” you giggled.

He laughed with you and shook his head, clearly in as much disbelief as you were that this was really happening. You were back in each others arms, just where you were always meant to be. You sighed and he ran his hand over your head, stroking his fingers through your hair and sending your head into a fuzzy daze with the feeling of his gentle touch.

“You make a good point,” he agreed. “Always have struggled with moving at a normal pace, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, I think that was pretty apparent from the moment we met,” you agreed.

“I’ll never forget the look on Gaz’s face that night he opened that door,” he mused, getting that stupid smile on his face that he always got at the memory of the time you’d met - and immediately fucked.

“I hate when you bring that up,” you groaned, giving his arm a playful slap. “He was so pleased he’d introduced us before he walked in on us!”

“Well, serves him right for not knocking,” he winked, “it's rude to barge in on a superior officer.”

“Ugh! You’re lucky I love you too, or I’d be getting up and locking that bedroom door,” you groaned. “I hate the superior officer line!”

He smiled at that, his face brightening instantly. You’d said it back. His eyes were perfect crescents. You loved when they did that, sparkling outwardly to you through shuttered lids. He was like a cuddly koala bear.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, his voice low and soft.

“What?” you asked, frowning as his tone shifted.

“You’re going to let me take you for dinner tomorrow,” he announced.

“I am?” you smirked, relaxing instantly.

“Yes you are. We’re going to go to dinner and talk everything through and we’re going to set everything right again. Then after that we’re going to put all this nonsense behind us, yeah?”

You giggled lightly at his commanding tone, but you didn’t disagree, you nodded. You fastened your arms around him and cuddled into him close, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you settled into his perfectly warm body. Your eyes started to flutter as you did, growing heavy as you became more and more aware of how drained you actually were.

“I think I like the sound of that,” you sighed, closing your eyes completely.

Price squeezed your shoulder and gathered you close, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. His beard scratched at your scalp again.

“Good,” he yawned. “That sounds good to me too…”

-💘-

1 week later

You were sorting out some grand emergency at work and Price was in your flat alone. He’d had a shower and gotten himself half dressed, too eager to get something to eat to put a shirt on. So he stood in your little kitchen in front of the window, bathing in the spring sunlight, eating a bowl of cereal to himself as his damp hair dried from his strategic position.

Just like he’d said, you had fixed things at dinner the night after you’d reconciled - and from there on it was almost like things had completely gone back to normal. Almost. When you’d turned your phone on the next day, you were greeted with a torrid of horrible messages and some hundred missed calls from Reid. However, with Price there, you didn’t really let any of it bother you.

Not much anyway.

He held you through your upset and after a quiet minute of figuring out what to do, you messaged Reid a short, matter of fact text. You told him that you were in fact serious about your decision, you reminded him that - no - you weren’t drunk when you’d left, you weren’t ‘being crazy’ and would even be generous enough to put his things he’d left at yours into a box for him to collect, should he decide to be grown up enough to come over and get them.

You’d gotten a million more missed calls after that and a flurry of messages, but after hearing Price’s words of encouragement, you ignored them all. After a few days they stopped coming, and a few days after that you assumed that that was it. That he was out of your life for good. Thank god.

However, Reid had decided he wasn’t going to go completely quietly. Well, he was forced into not going quietly. After being egged on by his friends, he was put in a tricky position and realised that he wasn’t going to be able to back down. At their insistence he was going to turn up to your place unannounced and confront you when you were least expecting it - give you a piece of his mind while you were unprepared and unable to defend your ‘completely mental overreaction’.

At least that was how it was supposed to go.

Though, when he’d pounded on the door and had someone other than you answer, his smile dropped. His face was practically tripping him when he realised who it was that answered.

“Can I help you?” Price asked, crunching on a spoonful of cereal, completely unbothered.

“Can you…help me?” Reid repeated, incredulous.

“Certainly can,” Price grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s why I offered.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s that hypocrite that’s clearly cheated on me?”

Reid was furious. He couldn’t believe that he was made to feel like such an asshole for kissing someone else when you’d been with the geriatric behind his back the whole time. He was fuming

“Hypocrite? I believe you two were broken up after that little stunt you pulled, mate,” Price corrected, putting his cereal bowl down on the entry table. “Why don’t you just settle down and stay here while I get your little box of shit. Then you can be on your way.”

“You think I’m just going to go while you’re making me look like a mug? You went and swooped in on someone that’s taken and think you can just walk around naked like you own the place now because they slutted themselves out to you?”

“Careful, son,” Price growled. “Better choose your words more carefully.”

“Or what? You’re gonna kill me?” Reid laughed. “You don’t intimidate me, old man. You’d lose your job over something like that. Guy like you would go to prison for a long time.”

Price chuckled to himself and nodded his head, quirking his lips into an upside down smile. It didn’t meet his eyes though. They didn’t turn to crescents, they just stayed slitted ever so slightly, glaring at the absolute maggot before him.

Price would’ve loved to have taught that shit eating little cunt a lesson. Though he knew already that any kind of physical violence would have you both on the rocks again, and after he’d just gotten you back he wasn’t ready to jeopardise things. However that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t prepared for Reid’s visit, oh no. He had more weapons at his disposal than the average man - he knew plenty of people in lots of places, both high and low, powerful and shady.

“Little old fella like me couldn’t do damage like that,” Price sighed, putting his hand over his heart like he was weary. “I have other things I can do though. Don’t even need to bother laying a hand on a little weasel like you.”

“Oh yeah like what?” Reid laughed, hoisting himself up to the last step and getting into Price’s face. “You gonna get some army buddy of yours to rough me up or something, pay me a visit and scare me? If that happens I’ll record the whole thing.I’ll get you done for it! All my friends know about you, they’d back me up that you were behind it all.”

Price shook his head and sent a quick message off on his phone, quickly taking it out of his pocket and burying it back in again in a flash. After that, he proceeded to pick his cereal back up and ate another spoonful, scrunching up his face when he realised it had mostly lost its crunch. Well, he made a face at that and the fact that Reid was still there and giving him that stupid challenging little look.

“Sounds like I’d get into a lot of bother for that,” Price agreed, swirling his spoon around his bowl. “I’d just hate for you to have recordings…mind you, I don’t think I’ll have to worry too much about those. You’ll be too busy trying to unfuck your life to bother about me.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Reid frowned.

Reid threw him a gesture as if to ask what the hell, and Price shrugged, taking one last bite of his less than tasty cereal. He resolved to himself that he’d pour another bowl and get himself to the shops. He’d hate for you to be running low - it was important to him that you ate afterall. All a part of making sure you were looked after and cared for.

“I said - what’s that supposed to mean!” Reid gritted out, poking a finger into Price’s chest.

Price growled and shot him a warning glare, sending the younger man flying back with just the change in demeanour alone. Reid looked stupid then, holding his palm out like he was going to try and karate chop Price.

“Why don’t you run home and go check your credit score and bank accounts, hm?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Reid laughed, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Are you actually trying to pretend like you can do something like-”

Reid trailed off and frowned down at his device, hurriedly tapping the screen as his brows knitted tighter together.

“Ugh, what an absolute dinosaur I am,” Price grunted, shaking his head at himself. “You can check all these things on your phone nowadays. Plonker. Anyway, like I said - have fun trying to work all that out.”

Price went to shut the door, but grunted when Reid stuck his foot in it before he could close it fully. He glared when he almost spilled his cereal on himself, the milk had splashed up against the sides and a little had dribbled onto his foot. Other than that he was mostly uncovered. Reid was safe from having the rest splashed all over him.

“I’m going to the Police about this! You hear me? I’m going to report this and you’ll be in so much fucking trouble!” Reid vowed, wrenching the door back open. “Fix this right now! Fix it now, or I’ll do it. I’ll go to the police.”

“Go to the police then. But what’re you gonna tell them exactly? ‘Oh, my ex’s boyfriend has frozen all of my money and tanked my credit score! Do something, Mr. Officer!’ Sounds a bit fucking looney, doesn’t it?”

Reid looked at him with wide eyes, withdrawing his foot from the doorway as Price laughed at him, frowning as the realisation fully sunk in. He could report the crime, but he had no idea how Price had even managed to do it in the first place. Something like that would require the help of dodgy people, the likes of which Reid couldn’t even comprehend.

And if he could do all that to Reid’s finances…after, presumably, sending a single text…then what else would Price be capable of?

Reid backed away fully and looked at Price and down at his phone, then back to Price and back down at his phone, locked in a state of disbelief. What the fuck had just happened. His heart dropped and his mouth got dry. It was like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Watch that last step, son. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself,” Price called, grabbing the door so that he could finally shut it. “If you know what’s good for you you should stay away from here and never send another pig headed message again. Never know - It might help your little money situation. Might not help, mind you, but it certainly couldn’t hurt, could it? Good bye, now.”

And with that Price closed the door and retreated back inside, leaving Reid to stand stupidly on the grass out front while he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

There, Price thought, things are just as they should be now. He smirked to himself as washed up his cereal bowl, replaying what had just happened in his head. Thank you Nik. Guess I owe you a beer, mate.

#captain john price #john price x reader #mw2 #modern warfare fanfiction #barry sloane

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skylardoesthings · 2 years

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please have mercy upon my dashboard it's just miles and miles of your TMNT reblogs

my apologies anon, i will calm down about it /gen

#Sky rambles #ty for the ask <3 #ty for telling me btw #pls tell me to shut up from time to time i need a vibe check #well not really a vibe check more to a Skylar please shut the fuck up #type of thing yk?#cause i will dial it back #also before anyone tells me to use the queue #i would but i was on mobile and i dont think theres a quick way to make a queue #honestly it just what happens when i super get into a new fandom haha #u prolly seen it with me when i rbed a lot of d/d:p//p stuff #and idk i think i also did it with cen//taur///world as well?#ad ofc m//cy//t #so yeah again sorry anon thank you for telling me i appreaciate it #/gen

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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #requested #🥺 Anon

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luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream.

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed.

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand.

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted.

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye.

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb."

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?"

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart."

She smiles more.

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says.

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'"

"I'm so 'mart."

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft."

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost.

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck.

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly.

"Love you," she says back.

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you?

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go.

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach.

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before.

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition.

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair.

“June,” he mumbles.

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says.

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger.

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her.

"You know who you look like?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. His face lights up.

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby."

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here. Lie down."

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?"

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired.

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible."

"I'm impossible?"

"You're impossible," he promises.

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth.

"I can't believe you're real."

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck.

"Do I look bad?" he asks.

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you.

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over.

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks.

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't.

"Junie?" he asks.

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce.

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?"

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head.

"Mom's dying."

"Eddie."

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast."

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night."

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says.

You glare. "You are not exempt."

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?"

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back."

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose.

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing.

"Don't know what you mean."

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome.

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?"

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap.

"I wasn't serious."

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."

She only smiles.

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face.

"Sorry," you say.

"For what?"

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three.

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours.

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging.

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?"

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again.

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching.

"Oh, shit," you say.

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug.

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases.

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me."

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look.

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?"

It sounds clunky in his mouth.

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely.

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again."

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you.

"What? I brushed my teeth."

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention.

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes.

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating.

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval.

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise."

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways."

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box.

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head.

"This is positive reinforcement."

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot.

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?"

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup.

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand.

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome."

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?"

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but.

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes."

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance.

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things."

"Of course not."

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble."

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally.

"Do I look stupid?" he asks.

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy.

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean."

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you."

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected.

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too."

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be.

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio."

"They did not."

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches.

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you."

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding.

"I'm not going to get her pregnant."

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby.

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?"

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested."

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw.

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?"

Eddie makes himself scoff.

"Yeah, you should've."

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school."

"You had to get that one in there."

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same.

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers.

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks.

"You never did either."

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers.

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though."

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening.

"Thank you."

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement.

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back.

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–"

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you.

"I think I can deal with it."

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face.

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter.

"She's in the bedroom."

"What for?"

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse."

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too.

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door.

"Eddie?" you ask.

"What?"

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?"

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you."

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?"

"'Course not… Are they working?"

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?"

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you."

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference.

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?"

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door.

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you.

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time.

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too."

"See you," she says, patting his neck.

"How do I look? Handsome?"

She tangles her fingers in his hair.

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?"

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you."

"Duh, but does he like me?"

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you."

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?"

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man."

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?"

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him.

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt.

He drops his head into yours.

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly.

"What, today?"

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?"

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it.

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out."

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?"

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im."

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry.

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking."

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn."

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers."

"You better be helping her."

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you."

"What time am I expected?"

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?"

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef.

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit."

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–"

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook.

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show.

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug.

"Can I get some of that?"

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology.

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead.

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is."

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight.

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to."

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it."

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to."

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders.

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight."

You still don't budge.

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles."

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby.

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you.

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly.

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me."

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him.

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up.

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave.

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek.

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third.

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear.

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love.

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet.

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand.

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing.

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold. "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?"

"Okay. What's for treats?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?"

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying.

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes.

"Hey, bub, look at you!"

"She has something to ask you."

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?"

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…"

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats."

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling.

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake."

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh."

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise.

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh.

"'This' is killer," Eddie says.

"No, but can you see the bleach?"

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response.

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it."

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese.

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you.

"It's fine. You want me to answer?"

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling.

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket.

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door.

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse.

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes.

He nods. Looking good.

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her.

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up.

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way.

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice.

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you."

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie."

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'?

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out.

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway.

"Can I stay over?"

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home."

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip.

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing.

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way.

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly.

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out.

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone.

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her."

"What? You've never told me that."

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back.

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here."

You groan, "No, this is fine."

"Sit on my lap, loser."

"I'm heavy."

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips.

Your eyes are bright in the lighting.

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb.

"I can see why you're so kind," you say.

You smile at each other.

"I don't know what I did."

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs.

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life."

"A past life," he repeats.

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair.

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out.

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life.

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face.

You lean in for a kiss.

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention.

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever.

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps.

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like.

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it.

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his.

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…"

"What?" you ask.

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing.

Movement. Little feet.

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist.

You press your arm to his.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head.

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips.

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze.

"Bed?" he asks.

You slouch down. "In a minute?"

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure.

"Whatever you want."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

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

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