Adam Driver Characters x Reader One Shots

Rituals of Care - Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Summary: After hearing some unsavory comments about your appearance and scars, Flip comes home to find you crying in your bed. Upset that he found you like this, he embarks on his favorite ritual - worshipping your body as he reminds you of how perfect and loved you are.

TW: mention of scars and bullying 

It was supposed to be a fun outing - something that you would remember for years and look back upon fondly. Your best friend was getting married and while she got fitted for her wedding gown you were getting fitted for your bridesmaid dress. You had both walked in excited, your friend beaming and smiling from ear to ear. You'd both already selected the styles you wanted and were just getting measurements for some final adjustments done.

Everything had gone smoothly, until you went back into the dressing room to grab something you had accidentally left behind. That's when you heard it: "Wow, if I was her I would have asked for a private fitting. Wouldn't want those ugly scars to be seen by just anybody."

Your heart sunk to your stomach and you felt your chest constrict at the words as the woman who had worked with you continued her cruelty, "There were so many, too. What do you think is wrong with her? I'd hate to have skin like that. Maybe it was a botched job."

You felt the sting of tears threatening to fall and your breath catch in your throat as you rushed out of there. You were supposed to meet your friend down the street for a celebratory late lunch but you felt so nauseous you knew you wouldn't be able to keep anything down. You texted her and let her know you were heading home because you felt sick all of a sudden, knowing she wouldn't push it if you acted like you had just come down with something.

You hailed a taxi and headed home, biting back the tears that pooled in your eyes, not wanting to add to the embarrassment of your day by crying in front of a stranger. Your friend sent you a message to wish you well, asking whether the food you had both had last night had upset your stomach. You lied and answered back that you thought that might be it, wishing the car would go faster.

When you got home you grabbed the remnants of a pint of ice cream, changed into one of your husband's large flannel shirts and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, and crawled into bed with your laptop to watch a movie. You chose a romcom in hopes that it would bring a smile to your face but you found your face wetting with tears anyway as you recalled the words that had been spoken about you.

Your scars were a leftover memory from your childhood, a series of surgeries that had saved your life at a time when your parents cried every day thinking you wouldn't wake up the next morning. You were thankful to be alive and had gotten used to your scars over time, especially since many of them were over a decade old at this time. Many of them had stretched as your own body had grown, adding to their somewhat warped appearance.

Your husband, Flip, had never said anything about them and never made you feel any less beautiful because of them and you were eternally grateful for him. He always took care of you, even helping you smooth lotion over them when they got extra dry or tight in the cold winter Colorado months.

That didn't stop you from lingering on the hateful comments and letting them sink in, though. You were no stranger to unkind words, but that never made hearing them any easier. Listening to somebody comment on some of your biggest insecurities was always painful, and today was no different.

When Flip came home and found you, you were a small ball underneath a mountain of blankets, curled up and crying into your pillow. You felt his large warm hands seeking you out underneath your makeshift cocoon of fluffy throws and sheets, an anchor in an overwhelming sea of feelings.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did something happen?" you heard Flip ask, his voice sounding distant due to the thickness of the fabric that surrounded you. Even through the barrier, you could tell his muffled voice was laced with concern. You burrowed your head out from your safe haven and met his hazel eyes with your teary ones, his gaze soft and gentle as his hand stretched out to cup your face.

You told him about your outing between hiccups and sobs - about how it had started off strong and ended in hurtful comments, about how you rushed home to let it all out, about how you were sorry that he had found you like this, that you had caused him to worry. Flip's eyebrows met as he furrowed them and a small scowl lined his face at your words. "Why are you apologizing, sweetheart? You don't need to apologize for feeling things," he soothed, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek.

"Come on out from under there, baby. I think it's time I remind you how much I love you. All of you ," he murmured, helping you to peel back the layers of your hiding place.

You wriggled out from where you had tucked yourself in and laid back as Flip instructed, looking down the length of your body at your husband as he positioned himself over you. Every once in a while Flip would engage in this ritual where he would worship up and down your body, tracing your rounded curves and your irregular scars with his lips and his hands, reminding you that he loved everything about the person you were - how you were perfect just the way you were.

He moved the flannel up to uncover your stomach and then helped you take your sweatpants off, smiling the whole time at you with all the care and tenderness of a man so deeply in love. Flip started by kissing your scars, telling you how strong and amazing and wonderful you were - how each scar had made you the woman he knew and admired today, the person he loves so fiercely and unconditionally.

You felt tears start to trickle down your cheeks again, something that always happened when Flip worshiped you like this, as he continued marveling at your body. The idea that someone could love you so much was still wholly overwhelming and hard to believe, even after years of dating and three years of marriage. He paid attention to each scar, littering your body with kisses and smoothing his hands over the skin when he was finished in a particular spot.

When he was done with all of your surgical scars he moved on to all of your stretch marks, the ones on your hips and breasts and arms. Flip whispered about how he loves them just as much - that they're a sign that you're healthy and have grown and lived, thriving even when the world didn't think you'd make it past being a preteen.

After his lips left your skin tingling all over he took off his own flannel, exposing the stab wound you knew to be there on his lower abdomen. He leaned over you, bringing your hand to touch the raised skin there, and then bringing your fingers to his lips for a kiss.

You watched through the lingering tears that stuck to your lashes as Flip moved to rest beside you, tucking you into his body and turning your head so you were looking at each other face to face as you lay next to one another. Flip ran his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead before reminding you in that soft rumble of his, "You and me, baby? We're survivors. We've had to deal with some seriously tough shit and it sucks. I hate that you've had to go through what you've gone through, but we don't have to deal with it alone. You have me and I have you, and that's all that matters in the end. That lady doesn't know a single thing about you, and after what I've heard? I don't think she deserves to know you - my beautiful, perfect, courageous, badass wife."

You smiled at him then, because you knew how right Flip was. He smiled back at you, a grin full of teeth and dimples and encouragement before pulling you in for a kiss that was all honey and sweetness. The kiss was as comforting and sensitive as your husband was when he was alone with you, and twice as nice because you knew how much he meant everything he said when he prayed at the altar of your precious skin and bones - the one thing that Flip worshipped above anything else. Before you knew it, you finally fell asleep to the sound of Flip's hushed crooning in your ear, comfortable and snug in his protective hold, the worries of your day melting away under his praise and affirmation.