#I mean the only thing the answer got partially right is the snacks

[corvid-jay]

I guess I'll tag @dagensgod and @genderfrogee for this (although my other mutuals/followers feel free to add on :3)

Tagged by @dichromaticdyke for a picrew and uquiz :]

Tagging: @blueprintblue @deathmetalyaoi and viewers like you

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter Four

steve harrington x fem! reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 6.3k ~1984~

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Later that evening, Steve finds himself pacing the length of his living room, running a hand through his hair for what feels like the hundredth time. The silence of the house is unbearable, filled with his swirling thoughts and unanswered questions. He doesn’t know what to do, and the frustration of it all is starting to feel like too much.

Finally, he grabs his keys and heads out the door. He doesn’t have a plan, but somehow, his feet lead him to Dustin’s house. If there’s anyone who might have an answer—or at least say something that could make sense of this mess—it’s the kid who seems to know way too much about life for his age.

When Dustin opens the door, he’s holding a partially dismantled walkie-talkie and wearing a look of mild confusion. “Steve? What are you doing here? And…why didn’t you drive your car?”

“I need to talk to you,” Steve blurts out, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He sinks into the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands. “It’s about Y/N.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and he immediately shuts the door, tossing the walkie onto a nearby table. “Oh man, this is gonna be good. Spill.”

Steve hesitates, unsure how to even start. “I don’t know what to do. Last night, things… things got intense, and I thought we had this moment, you know? Like, we finally said what we’ve been too scared to say for years. But now she’s pulling back, and I don’t know if I should—” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I should keep pushing or just… leave it alone.”

Dustin crosses his arms, tilting his head as he considers Steve’s words. “Okay, first of all, what exactly did you say? Because if you half-assed it, that’s on you.”

Steve groans, leaning back against the chair. “I didn’t half-ass it. I told her she’s my whole world. That I couldn’t survive if something happened to her. I meant every word.”

“Okay, cool. So you laid it all out there,” Dustin says, nodding approvingly. “And now she’s avoiding you?”

“Pretty much.”

Dustin shrugs. “She’s probably just freaking out. I mean, think about it, Steve. Last night was crazy. People don’t just process stuff like that overnight. Plus, she’s probably wondering if you meant it or if it was, like, adrenaline talking.”

“I did mean it,” Steve says quickly, his voice firm.

“I know that, and you know that, but does she?” Dustin points out, raising an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to prove it.”

“How?”

Dustin smirks. “By being the guy she already knows you are. You’ve been in love with her for years, right? So don’t stop now. Show her you meant what you said. Don’t let her run away just because she’s scared.”

Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes in Dustin’s words. “And what if I push too hard and just end up making it worse?”

“Steve,” Dustin says, his tone surprisingly serious. “The only way you’re gonna make it worse is if you give up. She’s worth it, right?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. She’s worth it.”

“Then stop overthinking it and just… be there for her. Give her time, but don’t let her forget you meant every word.”

Steve nods slowly, Dustin’s advice sinking in. Maybe the kid’s right. Maybe it’s not about pushing or pulling back—it’s about being steady, being there, and letting her see that his feelings aren’t going anywhere.

“Don’t let her forget I meant every word,” Steve takes a mental note. “Thanks kid.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Dustin replies, grinning. “But, uh, maybe next time, bring snacks. We’ve got brainstorming to do and we’re doing it on an empty stomach.”

The kid pulls out a notebook and begins scribbling ideas into it. 

Steve leans back in Dustin’s chair, arms crossed as his mind drifts, until he blurts out, “I wrote her a note once.”

Dustin freezes mid-sentence. “A note?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Back in ninth grade. It was, like, this stupid thing where I wrote down all the stuff I… liked about her.”

Dustin’s pen drops onto the desk, and he swivels around in his chair to face Steve, his expression somewhere between shock and delight. “Hold up. You wrote an actual love note, and you’ve just been sitting on this information? What did it say?”

“I don’t remember,” Steve lies, avoiding Dustin’s eyes.

“Bull,” Dustin says, narrowing his gaze. “You remember every word, don’t you?”

Steve sighs, defeated. “Okay, fine. I remember some of it. But it doesn’t matter because I never gave it to her.”

“You still have it?” Dustin asks, leaning forward like he’s about to discover buried treasure.

“I think so,” Steve mutters. “It’s probably in some box in my closet or something.”

Dustin practically leaps out of his chair. “We’re going to your house. Right now.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head.

“Steve,” Dustin says, crossing his arms and giving him a look that’s far too confident for a 13-year-old. “This note could be the key to unlocking her heart. You’re always telling me to take risks and go after what I want, so why don’t you take your own advice for once?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but only if you agree to stop badgering me about it.”

Dustin smirks. “And?”

“And,” Steve adds, “I’ll help you prepare for the winter formal.”

“Sold!” Dustin says, already grabbing his coat.

They rummage through Steve’s closet for nearly half an hour, tossing aside old yearbooks, basketball trophies, and forgotten sneakers, until Dustin shouts, “Found it!”

He holds up a folded piece of paper, yellowed slightly with age, and waves it triumphantly.

Steve snatches it from him, his face already burning. “Give me that.”

“Absolutely not,” Dustin says, dodging out of reach. “This is a historical document. It belongs in a museum!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“Relax,” Dustin says, finally unfolding the note. He scans the page, his smirk slowly fading as he reads. “Dude,” he says quietly, glancing up at Steve. “This is… actually kind of sweet. ‘The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated.’”

Steve shrugs, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. “Yeah, well…”

“‘Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly,’” Dustin’s voice softens. “That’s… wow, man.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Dustin keeps reading. “‘The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard.’”

“Okay, now you’re just embarrassing me,” Steve mutters, trying to grab the note again.

But then Dustin freezes, his eyes widening as he reads a particular line. A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Steve asks, suddenly nervous.

“‘The dream I had about you in that red bathing suit….” his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What dream, Harrington?”

Steve’s face turns beet red. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Was it romantic? Or… did you have to wake up in the middle of the night to take a shower after?” Dustin teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dustin, I swear, if you—”

“Does she know about this dream?!”

Steve grabs the note and crumples it in his fist. “Forget you ever read that.”

But Dustin is already cackling, doubling over with laughter. “Oh, this is too good. You had a secret ninth-grade fantasy about her, and now you’re still pining after her? Man, you’re pathetic!”

Steve groans, running a hand down his face. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because I’m your only hope,” Dustin says, still laughing as he throws an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go use this note to win her over. Minus the dream part, obviously. Unless you want to make things really interesting.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head but unable to keep the small smile off his face. “I’m so going to regret this.”

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Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white as Dustin leans over from the passenger seat with that insufferable grin plastered on his face.

“You realize the more you avoid it, the worse it sounds, right? Like, was this dream so scandalous it could ruin your life?”

Steve groans, rolling his eyes as he pulls up to a stoplight. “No, it wasn’t scandalous. It was… Look, it’s none of your business.”

Dustin leans closer, his grin widening, “Was it one of those superhero moments where she saved you from drowning?” He pauses dramatically, tapping his chin. “Actually, no—let me guess. You were the one saving her…chest compressions, mouth to mouth.”

Steve nearly chokes on his own breath, his hand slamming against the wheel. “Dustin, I swear—”

“Oh my God,” Dustin cuts him off, gasping in mock realization. “Was it one of those dreams? Like, she’s there in slow motion, water dripping off her, and you’re there rubbing tanning oil all over her body?”

“Cut it out, Henderson!” Steve snaps, his ears burning.

Dustin smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Man, you’re so red right now. It must’ve been some dream.”

“You seriously need a hobby.”

“This is my hobby,” Dustin says proudly. “Now, tell me about the dream, or I’ll tell her there’s a dream.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve says, eyes narrowing as the light turns green. He presses the gas a little harder than necessary.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Dustin replies, grinning ear to ear. “She’d love to know how much you’ve been thinking about her—dream Steve and all.”

“Fine!” Steve shouts, throwing one hand in the air. “It wasn’t even that bad! It was just… we were at the pool at my house, and she was… laughing, okay? It wasn’t some weird thing. It was just her, and she was happy, and it stuck with me. End of story.”

Dustin blinks at him, unimpressed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve says firmly.

Dustin leans back, letting the silence hang for a moment. “You’re the lamest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Steve sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“But I’m still going to tell her about it.”

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The next afternoon, you sit cross-legged on your bed, staring at your phone and chewing on your bottom lip. Inviting Nancy Wheeler over wasn’t exactly something you’d planned on doing in this lifetime. You’d always been friendly enough, sure, but hanging out one-on-one? Never happened. Still, if there’s anyone who might understand what you’re going through, it’s her.

When Nancy arrives, she hesitates in the doorway, tilting her head curiously. “Hey,” she says, giving you a small, cautious smile. “This is… unexpected.”

“I know,” you admit, stepping aside to let her in. “It’s weird, right? Me, asking you over. But I—well, I need some advice. About Steve.”

Her brows shoot up, and she gives a small laugh of surprise. “Steve?”

You nod quickly, leading her to your room. “Yeah, and before you say anything, I know it’s probably strange. I mean, he’s my best friend, so I should probably know how to handle this myself, but…” You flop onto the bed with a groan, running a hand through your hair. “I just—I feel like I need a different perspective. And you probably know him better than anyone else—aside from me, of course.”

Nancy sits at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she listens. “Okay,” she says slowly, her tone thoughtful. “What’s going on?”

You exhale sharply, tugging at the hem of your sweater. “The other night, during all the chaos, Steve said some things. Big things. About… how he feels about me.”

Nancy blinks, her expression unreadable as she processes your words. “What kind of things?”

“Like… intense things. Like, ‘You’re my whole world,’ kind of things.” You let out a nervous laugh. “And now I don’t know what to do with it. What if it was just the adrenaline talking? What if he doesn’t really mean it?”

Nancy leans back slightly, tilting her head. “Why would you think he didn’t mean it?”

You shrug helplessly. “Because… it’s Steve. He’s been in love with you before. He’s dated other girls. What if I’m just… another phase? Or worse, what if this ruins everything between us?”

Nancy softens, a small smile forming on her lips. “Steve doesn’t really do phases. Sure, he’s dated other people, but he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that even when we were together, it was obvious how much you meant to him. He talks about you like you hung the stars, Y/N. And I know you’ve been there for him in ways I never could be.” Nancy pauses, then adds gently, “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. What do you want to happen?”

You hesitate, your cheeks warming as memories of that night with Steve flash through your mind. You almost tell her—that one time, late at night, when things between you and Steve had finally boiled over. When you’d crossed a line that had been hovering between you for years. But instead of making things clearer, it had only complicated everything. And you’d been the one to say it: We should just stay friends.

You stop yourself before the words can escape and opt for something safer. “One time, we… broached the topic of maybe having feelings for each other. But I was the one who shut it down. I was scared of losing him, and I told him it’d be better if we stayed friends.”

Nancy nods slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “And do you still feel that way?”

Your throat tightens, and you struggle to find the words. “I just… I’ve always loved Steve. Not just as my best friend, but more than that. But I never thought he’d see me that way, you know? And now that he’s said this, I don’t know if I can let myself believe it.”

Nancy offers a small smile, her voice steady. “If Steve said it, he meant it. He doesn’t just throw those words around, especially not with you. But I get why you’re scared. It’s a big leap, and there’s a lot at stake. I guess the question is—do you trust him enough to take that leap?”

You sit in silence for a moment, her words sinking in. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “I want to trust him. I just don’t want to lose him.”

Nancy stands up, grabbing her bag. “I don’t think you’re going to lose him. But you’re never going to know unless you talk to him. Steve’s stubborn, but he’s also patient. He’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You follow her to the door, her words echoing in your mind. “Thanks, Nancy,” you say quietly. “I needed that.”

She offers you a knowing smile. “Anytime. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not just his best friend. You’re his person. Don’t forget that.”

 Nancy’s words settle into the air, and a pang of guilt twists in your chest. You sit back on your bed, nervously picking at the frayed threads of your sweater.

“Nancy,” you start, your voice quieter than before. “Can I ask you something? And you can be honest, okay?”

She tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Of course.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Did I… ever make things harder for you and Steve? When you two were together?”

Nancy looks surprised for a moment, but she recovers quickly, shaking her head. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, guilt gnawing at you. “It’s just… he was my best friend, you know? And I guess I always worried that maybe—maybe I got in the way. Like, maybe my relationship with him made things weird or caused tension between you two. Every other girl broke up with him and blamed me.” 

Nancy’s expression softens, and she sits down beside you on the bed. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever issues Steve and I had, they weren’t because of you. It’s on Steve and I. It’s on me. And, honestly… I’ve felt bad about it for a long time.”

You glance at her, your brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Nancy exhales deeply, brushing a hand through her hair as she glances at you, her expression tinged with guilt. “I guess I should just say it,” she starts hesitantly. “Everything that happened at Murray’s last week… it wasn’t exactly planned. But it also wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing, either.”

You blink, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “You mean… when you were with Jonathan?”

Nancy nods, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah. I feel awful about it, especially because—well, Steve and I weren’t officially broken up yet. We were in this weird place, like we both knew things were falling apart, but we hadn’t said it out loud. And then…” She pauses, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I said some things I can’t take back.”

You hesitate, “Steve…kind of hinted that you did.”

She sighs, dropping her gaze. “I told him I didn’t love him. Not really. And I was drunk, so I just blurted it out. And after that, I… I slept with Jonathan when we were at Murray’s.”

Her voice is heavy with regret, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. She looks at you again, her eyes searching yours. “I hate that I hurt Steve like that, but honestly? After everything with Barb and Will last year, I waited. For a whole month, I waited for Jonathan to make a move, to say something, to give me some kind of sign. But he didn’t. And when he didn’t… I went back to Steve.”

You frown slightly, the pieces of their complicated history falling into place. “So, you and Steve…”

Nancy nods. “We weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe if I tried hard enough, I could make it work. But deep down, I think I always knew it wasn’t going to last.”

Her words leave you quiet, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. “Do you think he… knows how you felt?”

“I think he does now,” she admits softly. “After everything that happened last week, I think we both finally faced the truth. We weren’t holding onto each other because we were in love. We were holding on because it was easier than letting go.”

Her honesty feels like a weight lifted, and yet it also leaves you with a strange pang of guilt. “Nancy, I never meant to… I don’t know, make things harder for you two.”

She shakes her head quickly. “You didn’t. Trust me, Y/N, you were never the problem. If anything, I think you were part of what kept Steve grounded when everything else was falling apart.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she cuts you off, her tone firm. “Listen. Whatever happened between Steve and me, it was on us. You’ve always been his best friend. And honestly? You were what he needed—what he always needed. Don’t feel guilty about that.”

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Nancy pulls into the driveway of her house just as she spots Steve’s unmistakable car parked at the curb. She furrows her brow, stepping out of her car as Steve gets out of his.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, crossing her arms.

Steve jerks a thumb toward the passenger side of his car, where Dustin is already halfway out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Dropping off the little twerp,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Hey!” Dustin protests, shooting a glare at Steve before turning to Nancy. “Don’t let him fool you—he’s practically begging for my advice every time we hang out now.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Get inside, Henderson.”

Dustin smirks but doesn’t argue, heading toward the front door. As he disappears inside, Nancy tilts her head at Steve, her curiosity piqued.

“So,” she says, leaning casually against her car, “what’s really going on?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “What makes you think anything’s going on?”

Nancy raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Because I just came from Y/N’s house.”

Steve stiffens, his expression guarded. “Yeah? And?”

“And,” Nancy says slowly, “she’s… confused. But in a good way. If that makes sense.”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “Confused. Right. That’s one way to put it.”

Nancy frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s the one pulling away,” Steve says, frustration creeping into his voice. “And it’s not the first time, either. Every time things get close—too close—she just… runs. Like I don’t mean enough for her to stay.”

Nancy crosses her arms, her expression softening. “Steve, that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he snaps, before immediately sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just… I don’t get it. I put myself out there, and she shuts down. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Nancy steps closer, her tone firm but gentle. “You’re supposed to remember that Y/N’s been through a lot. She’s not pulling away because you don’t mean enough—she’s pulling away because you mean too much, and it terrifies her. You know that.”

Steve leans back against his car, his jaw tightening. “I’m tired of being the one who’s always chasing, Nancy.”

“I get that,” she says softly. “But you’re not exactly easy for her, either. You think it’s been simple for her to figure out where she fits into your life? Especially with… everything that’s happened?”

Steve looks at her, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable.

Nancy sighs, her voice softening. “Steve, she cares about you. So much. But she’s scared—of hurting you, of getting hurt, of all of it. You’re both trying to protect each other in the most backward ways possible.”

Steve looks down at the pavement, her words sinking in.

“You know her better than anyone,” Nancy continues. “If you really care about her—and I know you do—you’ll be patient. She needs that from you right now, even if she doesn’t know how to say it.”

Steve nods slowly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “And if she keeps running?”

Nancy smirks faintly. “Then you stop chasing her like some knight in shining armor and just be her friend. Show her you’re not going anywhere. That’s what she really needs.”

Steve exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “You really think I have a shot?”

Nancy nods firmly. “I do. But you’re going to have to stop letting your ego get in the way and start listening to her.”

Steve offers a small smile. “Thanks, Wheeler. You’re not half-bad at this advice thing.”

Nancy chuckles, stepping back toward her car. “Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington. Now, go figure it out.”

Steve watches her head inside before climbing back into his car, her words still echoing in his mind. For the first time in a while, he feels like maybe he has a chance.

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Steve stands on the porch, his hand hesitating over the doorbell, unsure if he’s doing the right thing. Every nerve in his body is telling him to turn around, to give you the space you’ve been demanding, but something in him refuses to walk away. Not this time.

He knocks. A soft, quiet sound that somehow feels louder than it should be. He waits, but when the door finally creaks open, he’s not sure what he’s expecting. There you are, your eyes red, face blotchy, but it’s the exhaustion in your expression that hits him hardest. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world, and he hasn’t been there to help you with it.

You stare at him for a long beat, silent. Then, your eyes flicker away, and you step aside, almost reluctantly, like you want to pull away but can’t quite make yourself do it.

Steve steps into the dim hallway, pausing for a moment before looking at you again, his voice shaky as he finally speaks. “We’re good,” he says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue now. He calls to mind what he told you the other night, the words that had earned him a response from you that felt so much more promising than this silence between you now.

You look away, a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head. He swallows hard, the rawness of what he’s saying clawing at him. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it, okay?” he mutters, stepping closer, but careful not to push you. “I just need to be with you tonight. Like we used to. Listening to Queen, being there for each other. We’ve been through so much the past few days, so much we haven’t even—”

He cuts himself off, his voice trailing off in the heavy silence that fills the space between you. He wants to say more, wants to explain how terrified he is that he’s losing you, how much he’s been aching in this silence, but the words catch in his chest, too painful to speak aloud.

Your gaze softens for just a second, but it’s fleeting, and when you look at him again, there’s a distance that wasn’t there before. The ache in Steve’s chest grows sharper, but he doesn’t move. He’s here now. He’s not leaving.

With a sigh, you slowly nod, and it’s the smallest of gestures, but it feels like a concession, like you’re letting him in even though you’re not sure you should.

Steve steps past you, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He doesn’t know how this will play out, or what the next day will bring. But tonight, for a few hours, he wants to hold onto the part of you he still knows. Maybe tomorrow he’ll figure out what to do with the mess that’s left between you. But for now, he just wants to be there.

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You lay on the bed, your eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling as silent tears slip down your face. The weight of everything—the words, the feelings, the confusion—presses down on you in a way you can’t escape. You’re torn between wanting to stay close to Steve, to believe that there’s something real between you, and the fear that maybe all of this is just a result of the chaos surrounding you.

Steve lays next to you, the soft hum of the record player filling the room, but the silence between you is thick and suffocating. Neither of you speaks. Both of you are lost in your thoughts, drowning in the unspoken tension that’s become impossible to ignore.

After a long, painful silence, you reach out, your hand trembling as you pick up a crumpled-up note from the bed beside you. It’s a familiar weight, one that you’d hidden for years, and now it feels like the only thing you can offer him. You hand Steve the crumpled letter. Your fingers linger for a second before letting go, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Read it when you get home, okay?”

Steve hesitates, glancing between the letter and you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. “Just… not here. Please.”

He doesn’t push, sensing the fragility of the moment. Instead, he tucks the letter carefully into his jacket pocket and lays back beside you, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. For the rest of the night, neither of you speaks, the silence both comforting and charged.

When it’s time for him to leave, Steve rises quietly, his steps deliberate and slow. He pauses at the door, glancing back at you one last time, curled up under the covers, your face turned away. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper—the note he found with Dustin.

Without a word, he places it on your dresser, hidden just enough for you to find it later, and slips out of the room.

As the door clicks shut, you close your eyes, the heaviness of the night settling over you. Little do you know, the words Steve left behind are waiting to change everything.

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Steve steps into his darkened house, the familiar silence pressing in around him. Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, he pulls the crumpled letter from his pocket and unfolds it carefully, smoothing the creases as if the words might slip away if he isn’t gentle enough.

The handwriting is unmistakably yours—slightly slanted, the ink smudged in places. His chest tightens before he even reads the first word, the weight of what this letter might hold hitting him like a freight train.

Dear Steve,

I’m not sure I should even be writing this. Maybe I won’t even give it to you. Do you remember in the fifth grade when you asked me to marry you? I told you boys were gross and I’d never marry one. Later that night, you climbed the tree outside my window for the first time and knocked on the glass to propose again. You said your mom had told you about Romeo and Juliet, and how Romeo climbed up to her window because he loved her. You promised you’d never stop climbing my window until I said yes because you loved me.

As his eyes scan the page, memories flash through his mind like a reel of film. A small smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and nostalgic. He does remember. He remembers the way you rolled your eyes at him, how he’s never stopped climbing that tree outside your window and he never will.

A year later, when we were twelve, some kids in our class started talking about kissing, and everyone thought it was gross. So we tried it. We both liked it. A lot. I think that’s because we liked each other. 

His breath catches. He’s suddenly back in that moment—young, nervous, and exhilarated. He remembers the way your laughter had bubbled up after, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

Here’s where the problem is, Steve—I don’t think I ever stopped liking you.

Steve swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper as his heart pounds in his chest. He reads the words again, slower this time, as if savoring them will make them feel less surreal.

I didn’t fully realize it at first. Sure, I’ve had crushes on other boys, but none of them made me feel the way you do. You’re the one I actually enjoy spending time with. When Mom and Dad fight, she always tells me that if I ever get married, I need to marry someone who’s my friend first. She says the key to a happy relationship is falling in love with your best friend. (I still think marriage is kind of gross, and boys are too. You’re just the least gross, I guess.) And, well… you’re my best friend.

Sometimes I think about being an adult with you—no school, just us. We could listen to music and watch movies all day long. We could kiss whenever we wanted to. (I’ve wanted to kiss you again for a while now, but you’ve been kissing Julie from science class, and I don’t want it to feel like I’m kissing her by kissing you.) Honestly, I’d love to just laugh with you for the rest of my life.

A soft, shaky laugh escapes him, but it’s lined with something deeper—regret, maybe, or longing. He presses a hand to his face, trying to process the flood of emotions washing over him.

The letter feels like a window into a version of you he never fully understood, a version that had been hiding in plain sight all along. You had felt this way for so long, and he had been so blind to it, too caught up in his own confusion and fears to notice.

You’re always telling me how much I annoy you because I can never pick a favorite anything. But the truth is, I do have a favorite—and it’s you.

You’re my favorite person. My favorite way to spend a late night at Lover’s Lake. My favorite pair of eyes to get lost in when we’re hiding under the covers, trying not to get caught after you’ve snuck in. My favorite arms to wrap around me. My favorite voice.

You’re all my favorites.

Okay, I’m grossing myself out now, so I’m going to stop writing. But I guess… I hope I fall in love with you. And maybe one day you’ll feel the same. I think I’d like that a lot.

Y/N

As he reads the final lines—You’re my favorite person… You’re all of my favorites—he feels something inside him crack open.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the empty room.

He sets the letter down on the counter, staring at it as if it might disappear. A lump rises in his throat, and he swipes at his eyes quickly, irritated at himself for being this emotional.

But he can’t help it. The words you wrote, the vulnerability you had poured into them—it’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear and everything he’s terrified of.

Grabbing the letter, he folds it carefully and tucks it back into his pocket, a newfound determination lighting his eyes.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your dress for the winter ball. It feels strange dressing up for an event that’s not even about you—but the kids deserve this, and chaperoning is part of the deal. The fact that Steve might be there too only adds to the weight pressing on your chest.

As you reach for your jewelry box on the dresser, your hand grazes something unfamiliar. You glance down to find a folded piece of notebook paper, tucked just out of sight beneath your hairbrush.

Curious, you pick it up, noticing the boyish scrawl of handwriting on the front. You immediately recognize it. Steve’s.

Your heart stutters. You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers trembling slightly as you unfold the note. The edges are frayed, and the ink is faint in places, as if it’s been folded and tucked away for years.

You start to read:

Y/N,

I don’t know why I’m writing this, but if I don’t, I think I might lose my mind. I can’t say this to you out loud, and maybe I’ll never give this to you, but at least it’s out of my head.

You’re my favorite person. You’re the one I think about when I’m having a bad day, the one who makes me laugh so hard I forget about everything else. 

But it’s not just that. It’s so much more. So, I put in here a list I’ve made of all the reasons why you’re my favorite person.

The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated. It’s the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard. Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly, even though you know I’ll never stop doing it. It’s how everything feels easier when you’re around, like nothing can touch me. Don’t even get me started about the dream I had about you in that red bathing suit. You know the one…Yeah. I’m definitely never letting you read this.

Anyways, I think I like you, Y/N. Scratch that—I know I do. I like you in a way that feels way too big for me to handle. But I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you because what if it messes everything up? You’re my best friend, and I’d rather keep you in my life like this than risk losing you completely.

So, yeah. I like you. A lot. And if you ever find this somehow, just know that even if I never say it, it’s how I’ve always felt.

Steve

You lower the note slowly, your vision blurred by the tears pooling in your eyes. The boy Steve was back then—earnest, vulnerable, and so full of quiet, unspoken affection—is written all over these words. And now, looking back, you can see him in the man he is today.

He’s always felt this way.

Your chest tightens as the truth settles over you, undeniable and steady, like the weight of the letter in your hand. This wasn’t adrenaline, or chaos, or the heat of the moment making him say what he did at the Byers’ house. It’s always been there—this love he’s carried for you, just like the note. It was there the day you told him it was best to just stay friends. It was there on every night he’d sneak under your covers or you under his. And it was there in every knowing look from your friends, every teasing question about where you’d both disappeared to when no one else could find you.

Carefully, you fold it back up, your hands trembling as you slip it into your jewelry box like a secret you’re not ready to let go of but need to protect. You glance at the clock, realizing you’re running out of time, but the thought barely registers.

Taking a shaky breath, you brush away the stray tears threatening to streak your makeup. And for the first time in days, there’s no confusion, no doubt. Only the exhilarating, terrifying truth: Steve’s feelings weren’t born in a single moment—they’ve been there for years. Just like yours.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

[ghostphys]

Update after a week of doing this:

So it’s finally update time! Thank you all for the support on my post about this, it really meant a lot!!

I’m going to list the pros and cons of my little experiment, then add a summary/TLDR at the end of the post. This is probably going to be quite a long post as it was definitely an interesting 5 days. P.S, if you have any questions please ask! I’m 100% willing to answer.

Pros:

• My time spent studying over doubled this week. This was the most obvious pro (and the one I was kind of hoping for the most) and I’m so proud of myself for how much I managed to get done. I studied for an average of 4hours/day, whereas before I was only doing 2.

• Studying felt so much more relaxing and productive at night. This probably contributed to the increase in studying; I found I enjoyed studying more, was able to pay attention for longer periods of time, and it started to feel less like a chore, and more like a hobby.

• I started to feel more present in the moment, especially on the bus travelling to/from uni. This wasn’t something I was really expecting, but I think also was partially a result of me deleting social media (which i can totally make another post on if that’s of interest). But where I used to sleep on the bus, or even just daydream, I started to read books, look over notes, and just feel a lot more present in general, which was a fresh of breath air honestly.

• I actually felt a lot less tired while at uni. I think this is most likely due to having been awake for a while before even travelling, so I had plenty of time to wake up. As someone who suffers from both physical and mental health issues, this was really important to me and i was so so much more focused during lectures and just generally wow it was amazing.

Cons:

• Although I found it easier to study, I dedicated a lot less time to keeping my room/study area tidy. I’m not sure exactly why this was, I think maybe just moving around to tidy up at 2/3am felt a bit wrong as I was scared to make too much noise? I think the way around this would be to just tidy right before sleeping at around 6pm, but this was probably my least favourite of the cons:(

• No time for social life outside of uni. Unless your friends are all also borderline nocturnal, then yeah if you are a person who loves going out etc then this is not the schedule for you. Fortunately for me my friends already know i sleep a lot, so most of our socialising happens in between lectures during uni time. (And by that I mean going to cafés and doing even more studying).

• It was kind of hard to figure out mealtimes? Eventually I settled on only having two meals a day, but just increasing portions sizes, and having more snacks in between. This is just what worked best for me, and this wasn’t a huge con tbh, just kind of confusing at first.

• It was so much easier to just hit snooze on my alarms. Because I didn’t have to worry about a bus to catch or anything forcing me to wake up, I found myself saying ‘just five more minutes’ way more times than I should have. I definitely slept in one day sadly. I think this is definitely preventable, I’m sure there are special alarm apps to help with this sort of thing, and i’ll probably be checking that out.

Summary/TLDR: This was such a fun experience for me, I’m really super proud of myself for trying this out and for improving my studying! All in all I definitely found this to be a positive experience, obviously that’s a personal thing so please don’t take my word to be truth! But just in my experience I really found it to help my mental aspect of studying as well as just physically doing more. Although my room got a bit messier, and I kind of just got disoriented about the time of day sometimes, I definitely think these are things that could have been fixed.

Disclaimer: I only tried this for a week which is definitely not enough time to fully change your sleep schedule, and I am obviously not a professional in this field or in research. This was just a fun little experiment and a chance for me to talk about my personal experience. I’m not encouraging this behaviour or saying it is healthy. (I am not informed about the effects on health this would have long term). Do not take some random person on tumblr’s experience as a holy grail of truth or something like that.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Super-ish

It's day 9 of @taznovembercelebration and I drew "superhero AU". Taako's speed dating to save the puppy orphans!

Read below or on Ao3 and find yesterday's prompt here.

--

The bell clangs loudly and it can't come soon enough. It's a melody, a sweet symphony of horrible bell janglies because it means Taako gets to move on.

When Magnus told him there was a speed dating event to raise money for the puppy orphanage Taako definitely, 100%, absolutely told him it was a fucking stupid idea. He knows those words came out of his face, near certainly followed by 'what nerd's gonna show up to that?' Apparently him? Apparently he's the nerd that's gonna show up to it. He doesn't know how it happened, it's like he blacked out and woke up with at least twenty of the worst men in the city taking turns to talk at him.

Magnus looks so pleased with himself, he and Julia are holding hands, even when Magnus rings the bell. They keep looking at him expectantly every time too. He has to keep giving them a small head shake and destroying their dreams of finally pairing him off and getting to go on double dates. Taako's the perma third wheel baby, get used to it.

Honestly, Taako was sick of his single status, and maybe that was how Magnus wore him down. He tried at first, he did, but there were only so many times he could be talked at tonight. His most promising match so far seemed to be the spider magician. If he wasn't in a fucking cult he'd probably be a great bet, but the guy's deep in the sauce. Also, Taako and Brian?? Terrible. There's no mystery in it. What are they gonna portmanteau to? Taian? Braako? Bad. No way. Taako needs sophistication, he needs...

"Kravitz." Says the, admittedly handsome, dude he plunks himself down opposite. Something's gotta be wrong with him. He's wearing a three piece suit, a nice one, his tie has a tasteful skull pattern and Taako wanted to inspect his raven collar pin. He wanted to inspect a lot of things about Kravitz. Corporate goth with flair, most other people were in jeans and a t-shirt... or their spider magic uniform.

"So, what're you in for?" Taako asks. He's long given up on the suggested questions on the sheet. He doesn't know if he cares about this guy's job yet, or if he wants kids or likes sports.

"I'm here to find true love, obviously... Taako?" Kravitz glances at Taako's name badge and actually pronounces it right, suspect behaviour, if you ask him, along with taking this seriously.

Kravitz manages to hold his face in a sappy smile for a few moments before he cracks and laughs. "My friend bullied me into it. Bought me a ticket, drove me here with her wife. I've actually possibly been kidnapped - do you think I need to tell anyone?"

"Hmmm, are you having a bad time? I think it's only kidnap of you're not enjoying yourself."

"Then it's partial kidnap. I wasn't having a good time before , but I am now."

Okay, so he was funny too, funny and handsome, Taako likes funny and handsome. Taako can work with funny and handsome, especially if he keeps flirting.

"How about you? Why are you here?" Kravitz asks and leans in like he's interested in the answer.

"I have no idea. Not in a 'they knocked me out and put me in a trunk and now I'm here' way, more a 'my friend turned every ounce of his enthusiasm on me and I got caught in the tractor beam and now I'm here' way."

Kravitz nods sympathetically, like he understands, like the same thing could happen to anyone.

"That's him, over there, staring intently at us right now." Taako waggles his fingers at Magnus, who raises his eyebrows questioningly. "He's the most married man I know who isn't my brother in law."

"Gross." Says Kravitz happily and waves at Magnus too, probably giving him false hope. Magnus looks delighted.

"Anyway..." says Kravitz, "...down to business, if you could fly to the moon via any object and have one cheese as a snack, what would you choose?" Kravitz picks up his pen to take notes like he's taking this seriously, like he's considering Taako as a life partner. Wild.

But... the thing is, Taako likes to win.

"Unicorn." He replies immediately. "With two horns. If Taako's going to the moon he's gonna go in style."

"What's the unicor... Binicorn? called?" Okay, Kravitz is operating near his level, he knows how to play.

"Binicorn, thank you for respecting Garyl's identity. Now, cheesewise, cheesewise you got me because there's options, see, there's manchego because it's smooth and it's got the fun texture; but could cha'boy whip up a baked camembert with hot honey and garlic?"

Kravitz considers for a moment, then nods. "I'll allow it." He jots some things down on his black notepad with his silver ink pen. It was covered in tiny bats.

Taako admires the commitment to aesthetic theme. Taako also desperately, passionately, needs to know what he's writing. It'd better be "hottest man alive, great cheese opinions, 69/10"

"But the problem is, the problem is, that cave aged cheddar exists. It's got the bits."

"The mineral chunks!" Kravitz adds with enthusiasm.

"A man of taste I see!"

"I like to think so."

Kravitz sounds like he's flirting. Taako was probably flirting? He oozed it apparently, had no idea it was happening most of the time. People got angry about it sometimes, but you can't lead someone on if you don't know you're doing it.

"How about you, cheese and object?"

"Giant raven, mozzarella shreds straight out of the bag." Kravitz doesn't even look ashamed.

He's disgusting, he's perfect.

The bell rings, loud and unwelcome. It's far too soon, Magnus clearly fucked up the timings, but some guy is walking over here like he's planning to sit down?

"Keep it moving, kemosabe, this seat's taken."

Maybe he should have checked with Kravitz before engaging this plan, but he hasn't objected, so Taako's going to assume he's on board.

Magnus looks confused and gives the bell another jangle while looking straight at Taako - which means he misses the chaos it causes as everyone else stands up and rotates again. Julia tugs their conjoined hands and gently guides him away from ringing a third time.

"Nope." Taako doesn't even look round at the second guy. He's absolutely not budging, this is the first conversation even vaguely worth his time. Goth boy is his now, actually.

"Thank you." Kravitz looks relieved enough that Taako doesn't feel any guilt. "You're stuck with me now, you can't throw me back into the man pit."

"If you insist, but the man pit sounds intriguing."

"The man mines?"

"Yeah, okay, Taako doesn't do heavy labour."

"I bet you did while you were carrying all those prior conversations." Kravitz wiggles his eyebrows, dork.

"Speaking of which what's your shit superpower?" Taako asks. "I mean, you can tell Taako if you can stop time or whatever too, cha'boy isn't a snitch, but this is about the day to day powers." Taako kind of hopes he can stop time, honestly, then he doesn't have to worry about Magnus' bell ringing.

"I run the perfect bath every time." Kravitz barely hesitates, just has it ready to go.

"You know how you like your bath?" Taako's not convinced Kravitz understands the question.

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me, anyone, no matter who, I can run them the perfect bath." Kravitz looks totally confident. It's weirdly sexy. Maybe it has been too long since Taako dated...

"Run many baths for strangers, have you?"

Kravitz winces slightly, oh, now Taako's intrigued.

"There was this whole thing in college." Kravitz begins.

This sounds like it's going to get unhinged. Taako needs to know this story right now immediately. He rests his chin on his hand and may or may not flutter his eyelashes a little, no one can prove anything one way or another.

Kravitz looks like he's running sums in his head, big ones, difficult ones, with scary number teeth.

"You can't dangle something like that and then stop!" Taako needs to hear.

"It... well... when I..." Kravitz starts, then seems to find his feet. "Sloane, my married friend, off of kidnapping me fame."

Taako nods to show he follows.

"We went to college together, in Goldcliff."

Taako winces.

"Yeah, exactly. We were full ride scholarships, but most people were so posh and so rich and so unaware. The cost of everything there was ridiculous - so we needed money."

It's a shame Kravitz isn't loaded, but at least he's not saddled with college debt and was smart enough for someone to give him money about it.

"I ran Sloane a bath one time after she had a hellish shift at the roller skate diner and I guess she mentioned offhand that I ran the perfect bath because Johann asked if I'd do one for him and he was a friend so I did and he loved it." There's definitely pride in his tone. This is incredible, Taako wants to study him. Lup's gonna get a kick out of this.

"Sloane thought it was the perfect rich people nonsense magnet - pay 40 quid for the perfect bath. Pocket change to them, a week of food for us."

Taako nods as if this is a reasonable plan, a completely normal thing to do with one's time. "Bath consultant, right, of course."

"Oh, no, no no Taako, there's no consultation, I just do it. Wham, bam, perfect bath every time. It was weird enough that they'd pay it to test it out, and then they'd tell their friends and their friends would test it out. Snowballing. Bathballing." Kravitz looks so earnest, so keen for Taako to understand the magnitude of his powers.

"You bathballed your way through college?" Taako adores this man. He's going to pick him up so carefully, take him home and put him in a special box and just look at him.

Kravitz nods. "What can I say? I'm talented."

He looks so self confident, so pleased with himself, Taako's probably being goaded right now... But, but...

"What kind of bath do I like?"

"I can't tell you."

"Is it illegal?"

"I can't describe the perfect bath, and if I tried you might do something that gives me an indication of what you like which is cheating. I don't need to cheat. I have to just do it."

Okay, Taako's in. "What're you doing after this, handsome?"

"Running you a bath?"

"You can run us both a bath, if you'd like."

Kravitz's smile is wide, but he pretends to take a second to consider anyway. "Hmmm... What's your shit power? You'll need to show me yours if I show you mine."

Taako laughs lightly. "You're never going to believe this, Kraveroo, but cha'boy makes the perfect breakfast. Whatever you're craving in the morning will be what Taako already decided to make."

"I can't wait."

-

I hope you enjoyed! Want to read more? Find the next prompt here.

[mad-hunts]

What does Barton enjoy when it comes to food? Favourite meals, snacks, desserts, ect?

Hi, @oculusxcaro! Thank you very much for the ask!! It really warms my heart that you're interested in Barton enough to ask me questions about him, honestly {: But let me go ahead and stop dilly-dallying here!

One of the things that you should know about Barton is that he LOVES to cook and by extension, he also loves food, so he has multiple favorite meals / snacks / desserts. But let me get started with one of his main loves... and I say that only partially jokingly, haha. Chicken curry, specifically the kind that a certain indian restaurant in gotham makes called the Seven-Fold Bistro, is something you will catch him eating often as Marcy actually introduced him to this restaurant and got him to meet the owners. So, now he is friendly with them and they seem to like him, since he comes in a lot / he is very respectful to them. But yeah, that is his first favorite meal to have.

His second favorite is Goulash, because god, could Winslow make a good Goulash whenever he was staying with him. If you're not familiar with the dish, it originates from Hungary and is basically a stew that has Meat, stock, macaroni noodles, vegetables (particularly green peppers for Winslow's version), paprika, and spices in it. The fact that it always makes a lot of food is another reason why Barton likes it, as him and his kids will have leftovers they can eat for days. Lastly, french onion soup is his final favorite meal. It's honestly one of the foods that kept him from not being absolutely starving all the time through college, as a lot of college students are notorious for being broke due to the high costs of university + other factors, so it holds a particularly sentimental place in his heart.

I could only think of one favorite snack for him, though, and like any good Quebecker ( I'm kidding, I'm kidding lol ).... that is Poutine. I'll give you a brief description of it just in case any of you haven't heard of it. Poutine is basically a food that consists of french fries and cheese curds that are topped with a brown gravy. Some might consider it a meal, but Barton typically eats it as a snack, though Barton has vowed to only eat it whenever he ventures outside of gotham because the Poutine there, quote unquote, " tastes like a budget version of the real thing. "

As for his favorite desserts, Barton does happen to have a couple and I mean exactly two. Cheesecake and Chocolate Lava Cake. Chocolate Lava Cake because, well, it is so damn delicious in his opinion and Cheesecake because he once went to this medical conference where one of his fellow M.D.'s brought this red velvet Cheesecake to it + shared it with him and let's just say that after eating that, if Barton died right at that moment, he honestly wouldn't even care. He would die happy ( LOLL ). And I know you didn't specifically ask a question based on his relationships with other people, but it's kind of funny because he literally initially stayed in contact with this doctor ever since so that he could get a taste of it again every once in a while.

Which, she is pretty aware of and jokes about around him. I mean, he still cares about the Cheesecake, but he has come to like her as a person as well and the delicious cake she makes is just a bonus to her being a good friend to Barton now to be honest. Though there we go! I hope I fully satisfied your curiosity with my answer, and that you are happy with it. Thanks again!! ((:

[namelessweapons]

@8luelight [Sorry I didn't wanna just hit reply on my cringemain failblog]

Under a cut bc I cannot shut up. And I want to make it clear that I am actually pissed on behalf of Psychkin too, but I can't talk about it, because I cannot relate to it, and I did not want to speak on something that is not my experience to speak on.

Honestly, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, because I do respect psychkin, they were not mentioned in the essay because, well, it has nothing to do with them, I had no thoughts on them because I wasn't thinking about them, because I am not one!

To go further indepth as to what I mean, I have a friend who I adore, they've got psych roots and spiritual roots, I will gladly listen to their psych stuff, but I cannot engage with it the way I can with spirituality because I am 0% psychological kin and ergo not only have no desire, but have no right to intrude on their spaces. I would be, and am, fine with them using the word Fictotheist, because they do also have spiritual roots. System stuff, to be clear.

If you're wondering what that means for the term 'Fictotheism', I have no issue with sharing it with people who are partially psych and partially spiritual, their experiences are still religious, however, it was not made with psychkin in mind, and if asked I would say;

'If your experiences aren't religious, if your existence isn't spiritual, why do you feel the need to use my word made exclusively to name a religion?'

I do consider the use of 'Fictionkin' for psych kin and spiritual kin alike part of the early 'muddying the waters' of the original word and I do wish that right out of the gate there had been another word, however, I also think 'Fictionkin' was always a word that was going to be muddied, it's ethereal, it has a thin sheetlike qualia too capable of covering too many things.

Again, I do believe they're valid, 100% so, those experiences are very real, but I have as much in common with psychological kin as a Catholic has with someone who likes the way communion wafers taste, {we're both freaks} no, that was a joke, but the actual answer is 'we have nothing in common, other than eating communion wafers' which does not a religion make, the communion-wafer eater doesn't care what church their communion wafers come from, nor their relationship to the Body of Christ, it is not a Religious Experience, I will gladly be friends with someone who's favorite snack is Communion Wafers, but I would also politely recommend they get their Communion Wafers off amazon instead of showing up to Friday Mass to interrupt the preacher to ask for more Communion Wafers.

So I suppose the short version of my opinion is, I respect Psychkin, I think it's very real, it's a real experience, who the fuck am I to tell someone what's real? I think they should be defended, I even think they deserve a new word too because honestly I feel like 'fictionkin' has been muddied for them too, and I hate that, like I hate it as much as I hate having my original word taken from me, it isn't fair, if someone makes a word just for them, I will signal boost the fuck out of it immediately.

But the word I created was not made to include them, and it was on purpose.

[halloweenbitch2764]

I can request a scenario in which the reader is rescued by the police or by someone who cares about her and thinks she is saving from the Slachers (Brahms, Jason, Michael, Vincent, Bo and another killer of her choice).

What would happen next, would the Slachers go after their reader and bring them home with them? Would the Slachers cause a massacre with people who cross your path, perhaps?

((Note: S / O is not a victim or hostage of the Slashers, but his girlfriend)).

Absolutely! Thank you for the request and patience! I think family/friends will work better in these situations so I hope you don't mind! Also I'm gonna skip Michael because I can't come up with anything for him and the other scenarios are super long. I hope it makes up for it <3

TW: Violence

F/N: Friends Name

Brahms Heelshire

It had definitely taken some getting used to when it came to living with Brahms

Between the HUGE mansion and the man himself

But you adapted into the role and settled in relatively well

However, you dropped contact with outside people quite suddenly

The cell reception had became increasingly worse and the landline phone had finally given out

When you tried to leave Brahms would insist on you staying

Which left your brother quite worried (pretend if you don't have one)

After multiple failed call attempts he decided to visit the address you had given him after accepting the job

He continued to try and call once he landed

Sure he'd be annoyed if you answered but would be happy you even did

However you didn't

So he made his way out to the mansion and parked in front of you

You were busy doing some cleaning and hadn't heard the car door slam shut

Brahms did though

A knock rang from the front door and you answered it, seeing your brother in front of you

You were confused and questioned why he was there

"You haven't been answering ANY of my calls. What the hell happened?" He seemed more concerned than angry

You knew Brahms would have heard him by now and one major rule was "no visitors"

Your stomach dropped

"Oh, um. The cell reception here is garbage and I haven't had time to get a new landline." You partially lied

"Well I'm glad you're safe. Mom wanted me to stay for a few days if that would be alright. I hate to invite myself but you know how mom is."

Your stomach sank further

"U-Uh actually, I'm not allowed to have visitors stay. Really not supposed to have anyone stay at all."

He raised his eyebrow. "Aren't you just watching some doll? Come on, Y/N you gotta be lonely. This place seems huge."

"Just go back home and tell mom I'm fine. I'm gonna be here till my job is done. Okay?" You wanted to make him leave without worrying him or him seeing Brahms

However, you noticed his eyes shift behind you and then widen

Oh fuck

"Go. Home." You told him but he didn't have to be told twice, already halfway to his car

You turned around to see Brahms behind you and you figured his size was enough to scare your brother

You just hoped he wouldn't tell your mom what really happened

Jason Voorhees

You had been at Camp Crystal Lake with Jason for quite a bit before anyone came to see if you were there

Cell reception was basically nonexistent so you hadn't had contact with the world since you had decided to stay with Jason

Your sister (pretend if you don't have one) remembered how much you loved Crystal Lake though and wondered if maybe you had ran away to the abandoned and dilapidated cabins

You were just taking a walk when your heard a female voice screaming your name

You instantly knew who's voice it was

You hoped Jason hadn't heard, scared of what he would do to her for trespassing

You ran towards the voice and you thought your sister was going to faint when she saw you coming towards her

"Y/N?" She almost didn't seem to believe you were right in front of her

"Hey dork, what's up?" You asked, trying to seem casual

"What's up?" She seemed stunned and then angry. "What do you mean 'what's up'?! You ran away and then just act as if nothing happened?!"

"Hey keep it down. Look, I'm sorry. I just was tired of everything and decided to see if I could stick it out here by myself for a while. I'm trying to renovate an old cabin to make a sort of house and I don't want ANYONE knowing where I am." The whole story was pretty much a lie. "I was just so overwhelmed with everything I needed a getaway. Don't tell anyone where I am. Please?"

She was silent as she processed everything. "What about Jason? Isn't he supposed to kill anyone who lives here or roams here?" She was almost positive the whole story of Jason wasn't real but she was still curious

"Well I mean. I'm still intact so I'm gonna say he doesn't exist." You lied.

She nodded a bit. "I've just been so worried about you. Just...try and let me know you're okay ever so often. Alright?"

You nodded and she headed back for her car

Once she was out of sight you started to head back to the cabin only to bump into Jason's chest

You jumped slightly in surprise, not having heard him sneak up and explained that she was your sister

He nodded before bringing you back to the cabin

Vincent Sinclair

You were sitting silently in the woods with Vincent as a victim made their way into the small town, pulling into the gas station

You were fairly far away and hidden by the foliage but you recognized who stepped out of the car

He had papers in his hand with large red letters spelling "MISSING" on the top and your face under it

It was your friend

Well he thought of himself as your friend

You didn't mind him but he would act obsessive towards you, wanting to hang out as much as possible and even interjecting himself into conversations you were having

You knew he had good intentions but couldn't help but feel annoyed just by his presence

He walked into the gas station, likely to ask about you

You knew what would happen

Vincent seemed to notice how closely you looked at the guy

It was different from past victims

"Who's that?" He signed

"An old...friend of mine. Well, he thought we were friends. He got on my nerves." You signed back

Vincent nodded a bit as you continued, "He had a thing for me I think. He was obsessed to say the least."

Jealousy started to come over him at what you said even though he knew you didn't return the feelings

He'd make sure he wasn't made into a wax figure

Just tortured and then disposed of

Bo Sinclair

You leaned against the gas station counter as Bo worked in the garage as per usual

You were fairly sure it would just be another normal day

Nobody coming to bother you

However a car pulled up and parked by a gas pump, shutting off as someone stepped out

No

No it couldn't be

Your old friend

You hadn't spoken to her in years

She still looked the same

You didn't know if you hoped she wouldn't recognize you or that she would

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she pushed the door opened but stopped in her tracks as her eyes scanned your face

"Y/N?"

You reluctantly nodded and stood up, walking out from behind the counter

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug to which you returned

"I-I can't believe this. We all thought you were dead!" Emotions swirled rapidly through her voice. Pain, excitement, nostalgia

"What?" You asked, confused

"I've missed you so much." She held you by your shoulders. "I didn't even mean to come here. I made a wrong turn and then was gonna come ask for directions."

Well that sounded oddly familiar

"Well I'm glad to see you. I'm alright. Just uh, decided to live here. I like how secluded it is." She turned to look at the side door to the garage as it was pushed open and Bo entered the room.

"Well hello there." He said in his normal charming accent, greeting your friend and seeing her as a victim. "Who might you be?"

"Oh this is F/N, she's been friends with me since we were in school."

He nodded a bit and she raised her eyebrow. "Well who's this Y/N?" She smirked

"This is Bo. He's my boyfriend. He works in the mechanics shop." You told her

She nodded and smiled.

"Well have a look around if you want any snacks. I gotta help Bo with something in the garage." You lied, tugging him into the garage and shutting the door behind you

"Do NOT hurt her." You sternly said and he raised his eyebrow

"I can't risk her telling people about this town." He responded.

"She doesn't even know what this town is. I think she missed the sign." You told him and he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose

"She could be lying."

You shook your head. "She won't tell anyone."

You walked back out and smiled at her, taking her money to pay for her snack

"You didn't see me okay?" She raised her eyebrow

"Some things happened that I don't want to get into right now but I can't go back for a while. Just let them think I'm dead and move on. Okay?" She nodded after a moment

"Have a safe trip." You said sweetly, giving her one last hug before she left

[choibinn3]

GET IT TOGETHER, JUNGWON!!

[ nine. hehe ]

series masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * in which jungwon had meant for that love letter to go to yeri, and not you—her bff. for some reason though, he finds that with each moment he spends together with you he's closer and closer to forgetting all about that damn letter.

no song for this chapter!

WRITTEN PORTION. 2.1k

also partially unedited, sorry if some things don't make sense or are confusing T_T

—

The bell rang.

You made eye contact with Jungwon across the room, and yet his brown pools nervously flitted towards Yeri's direction instead. They were President and Vice President though, so you didn't question much. She was packing up her bag, and had sent you a small smile.

"I'll see you next class, ok?" she said, "Make sure you eat a full meal before work."

You grinned at her. "Got it! I hope you have a good time with whatever you said you were doing, sorry I couldn't eat with you today."

Being the only two people in your friend group with the same lunch period, you usually sat with her for it. Talking about classes, chatting mindlessly, idly looking around the cafeteria for people you knew was fun only when it was with her.

"It's fine," she replied, waving off your apology and placing her notebooks away. "It's your first day with a boyfriend, I want you to be happy."

You appreciated her genuine gladness for your own happiness so much, you could barely hold it in. You wrapped your arms around her, sending her stumbling a bit with your weight. "Woah, YN!"

Having someone so positive, so supportive, and so authentic as Yeri around you for so long had definitely brightened your outlook on life. Such a friend was a one in a lifetime chance, and yet you lucked out. You just hoped she thought the same of you too.

"Thank you! I love you so much!" you exclaimed into her shoulder.

She released a giggle, patting your back with one hand as if to ease you down. "It's the bare minimum of friendship, YN. I just hope that Jungwon doesn't hurt you."

The tone in which she said it felt more serious than it usually was, which was a bit odd. You understood her concern though, of course your friend wouldn't want you to be hurt! And yet, everyone and their mother knew that flower boy Yang Jungwon would be the least likely person to do such a thing.

You loosened your arms a bit, tilting your head at her confusedly. "Why would Jungwon hurt me..? You know he's too nice for that!"

You knew that Jungwon and Yeri had definitely gotten closer to each other since the Student Council elections, but your faith in Yeri had outshined any insecurities or suspicions that could've ever formed. She had definitely talked frequently to him, especially with all those times they've had to stay after school for paperwork, so you would've thought that she'd know Jungwon's personality by now.

She took ahold of your arms, smiling at you before wrapping her own limbs around your form. Gahh, hugs from Yeri! You giggled into her shoulder again, from where your face had buried itself into. "I know, I know. I'm just being worried, I think."

You nodded. "I get it, thank you."

Yeri and the rest had always been like this. Even though Niki would act disgusted towards your displays of affection, he loved it when you made time for him. Heeseung too, actually. Yeri and Heeseung were both equally protective of Niki and you, even though Yeri was your age.

Since the day you had became friends she was the one looking out for you. Not to say you were irresponsible, but because she was just naturally a protective person. It was a quality you and many others admired about her—her loyalty to her friends.

"Remember that guy that was obsessed with you? Back in middle school?" she muttered.

You hit her arm playfully, and she let you go. "He wasn't obssessed!" you insisted, "I thought the snacks were cute!"

Yeri laughed. "Ok, whatever you say, but he was always buying you stuff. Can't believe you turned him down, though."

Your eyes glanced towards Jungwon, who was waiting by the door with his hands in his pant pockets. The large mass of students filtering out of the opening had covered his figure at times, blocking your view when they did, and yet you knew you could point him out in any large crowd. He stood out in a way that had you nervous all over again.

"Yeah well," you started, looking away and instead down towards your shoes bashfully, "I told him I liked someone else, and now we're just buddies."

You slung your bag over your shoulder as Yeri decided to nudge it. "Wonder who that could've been," she teased, and you let out a indignant whine.

"You don't have to wonder!"

She pinched your cheek, and you pretended to attempt to bite at her finger playfully. As the both of you exited the doorway, you sent a smile towards Jungwon.

The brief eye contact made him look away again, for whatever reason, you didn't know. "I'll see you in the cafeteria, right?" you asked, a bit hopefully. Yeri stopped beside you.

He fidgeted a bit, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'll find you there."

You grinned at him, and went onto your tippy toes. Jungwon's large brown eyes widened, and he almost leaned back when you planted another chaste (burning) kiss onto his cheek. Again?! You're kidding!

Neither of you knew how relationships worked, but were you sure a kiss on the cheek could be considered the first step? He had to hold his breath, otherwise he would've made a noise.

"Ah—" Like the previous time, you moved away too quickly for him to have comprehended the situation fully—or to say anything.

Your bag slightly jostled as you promptly walked down the hallway. The figure of your back going further and further down, becoming smaller and smaller as he stood there once again. He held onto his cheek. The ghost of your lips were still there, faintly, but the touch was evidently still imprinted into his mind. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get used to that.

As you left, Yeri looked over towards him. Her smile was devoid, which was the first odd thing, and suddenly she grabbed his wrist—the one still tracing your kiss.

Jungwon looked after at her shocked, but she provided no explanation as she dragged him along with long, big strides. "What are you doing?"

"I said it'd be quick, you have to get to YN, right? Lunch with them?" She turned her head to the side, awaiting an answer.

"They told you?" he asked, but of course they told her. You were best friends. "I mean yeah, nevermind. I do."

He was going to tell you about the misplacement of the letter, too.

With how fast Yeri was rushing them both, they made it to the Student Council room much quicker than they would've if they had walked casually as they had done before. The windows of the Council room were open, the long curtains blowing with the passing wind.

The room was fairly old, not yet upgraded as the other classroom in the Hybe building were. They still had gray, cloth curtains connected to their windows, and Jungwon had found the curtains annoying when they decided to brush against his face while he was working.

Still, he found the sun and its brightness too pretty to try and close the windows. As he looked at them, Yeri had made a point to shut the door.

Jungwon glanced over in time to see her lock it, too. If he wasn't anxious before, he was now. "What did you want to talk about?" he inquired, placing his bag down.

No answer. He looked up, and blinked at her as she said nothing, just staring at him with her head tilted.

She took a step forward (he took one back, he had to), and another (his sneakers squeaked against the polished floor), and another, and another (Jungwon stumbled a bit, feet confused with his backwards direction), and more until—

Jungwon's back collided roughly with the wooden surface behind him, making an aching pain build upon the lower part of his body. Before he could even think about the spreading heat, Yeri had already slammed her hands on either side of the desk, shocking him into straightening back up.

She was close.

Not closer than you were, but close enough to where he was panicked on where to look. They had shared such a proximity before. Only once, but it was still near. He had leaned over to take a look at some paperwork on her desk, and her face was inches away.

He didn't notice her lashes though, nor her bright eyes like he did with you.

"I called you here today to speak to you," she began. Her voice was steady, calm, confident. Whatever she was planning to say, she had either rehearsed it or was steeled in her resolve.

"A-About what?" A stutter. Not good. He hadn't meant to stutter, so he just gulped down his next nervous words.

"About YN."

All of a sudden, Yeri had surged forward. Her stands of hair had flown with her, falling off her shoulders and hanging over Jungwon. Even though he was taller than her, he had to lean back to not come in contact with any part of her skin.

He held his breath again, like he did with you, but because he was terrified he'd accidentally breathe on her face.

Her eyes had narrowed. Yeri's eyes never narrowed. They had always been slightly curved from a smile, or fondly closed in thought, but never once had they even become close to those dangerous slits on her face.

Was this the same person he knew? What had initially drawn him to her was her sweetness, so how could she look so stone cold (read: terrifying) in this moment?

"Look, I know we're kind of close and all, but YN was my first friend and one of my only long-standing friendships since I was 9 years-old." Jungwon couldn't take her gaze, so he turned to look out the window as she spoke.

"They've been my rock ever since I started having trouble with my parents, and was always supportive of everything I did. YN is self-sacrificial and diligent in a way you'd only notice if you were friends with them, and observant to the small details, playful when you need them to be, and highly emotionally empathetic—"

She paused, as if finally noticing Jungwon's attempts to distract himself.

"—I'm talking to you here." His eyes snapped back towards her face at the harshness of the tone she used, and a bead of sweat formed at the back of his neck. Ok, never trying that again. "You're not a bad person, Jungwon. I know you're not the type to hurt someone like that, but I'm not taking that chance. YN is a very sensitive individual, ok?"

Yeri waited, long enough for the frightened boy in front of her to get the memo. Eventually, he nodded.

"Good. So don't you ever attempt to hurt them—actually, even if it was a mistake, I couldn't care less. I will make sure you won't live past the age of 30. You won't even be alive to see your grandchildren, Yang Jungwon."

To make her point clear, she turned her glare burning. He could feel it through his soul. Such a stare would generally leave his heart palpitating, and it was surely, but he'd be an idiot if he didn't know the difference between it beating in fear and from affection. Right then, it was fear.

As if she was finally satisfied, Yeri leaned back from the cornered Student Council President in front of her, and took several steps backwards.

"Take this as my blessing for your relationship," she offered, hand coming to give a small pat at his shoulder. It took every fibre of his being not to flinch. He did Taekwondo for God's sake, what was with him?

The words hadn't come out of her mouth, but it was silently spoken from one party to another. This wasn't just a blessing, this was a warning. A threat too, all in one.

Yeri took it upon herself to exit the room first, even making sure to close the door gently as to not disturb anyone around them, and Jungwon's legs took him to his Council President seat—because if he didn't take a seat, he was sure he'd faint somewhere along the way back.

Kim Yerim had just threatened him like an overprotective Mob Boss whose child had just gotten their first boyfriend. Kim Yerim, his crush, the girl he had been pining over since they had both been elected for Council positions, Kim Yerim—who he had apparently not known enough about.

Outside of the room, Yeri was making her way down the hallways, checking messages on her phone as she did so.

(10)! unread messages from Heeseung!

All with the same premise. What did you talk to Jungwon about? What did you say? Yeri? Where are you?

She should've known Jungwon would tell his other friends, it was only natural he would. I'll deal with that later.

She tucked her phone back into her skirt pocket, unaware of the frantic footfalls of someone running down the hallways in the opposite direction.

—

previous | next - series masterlist

TDLR: you kiss his cheek again, yeri drags jungwon to the stuco room, yeri will make sure jungwon wont live past the age of 30 :D

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i hope this was worth the wait you scoundrels

[sungie]

your move: okkotsu yuuta x reader

a/n: i love him??? help ???

warnings: this is set right after the shibuya incident so there's definitely implications to what happened (but no spoilers).

masterlist

The chess piece in front of you looms perilously. It’s a white knight, the slope of the mane a smooth crescent curve beneath your fingertips. Two “L”-shaped moves to the left send the steed in attacking position, yet there’s still the threat of the opponent’s Queen haughtily resting in the corner of the board. An imminent presence that attempts to conceal itself from the allusion of a seemingly exposed King.

Never mind that you’re the one playing the opponent. You’ve got your own agenda once you swivel the board over and resume the technique you’ve grown to admire and hate all at once.

The door slides open.

You stiffen. Half of you wants to whirl around. Truth-be-told, you’re terrified of something flying out to ambush you. A darker thought comes just as quickly; perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. At least, it would be a dose of much-deserved karma for not losing something like you should have: a limb, a life, a soul.

“Panda, did you bring the snacks?” It’s killing you not to turn around. “Come here, I think I’ve figured out how to beat him. You can play, if you want.”

You dangle the knight between your trembling fingertips, deciding to plant it between a rook and a pawn, hoping that the risk pays off. In any case, if Panda does decide to take over, he won’t notice it. And if it is a curse, you won’t be here long enough to carry out the opponent’s move.

The person standing in the doorway chuckles, amused. He steps closer to the board, his legs a black blur in the corner of your vision. “I would’ve moved it here.” He crouches down, tapping a square on the board that you’d never even considered.

“That’s stupid. Only Okkotsu would do something like that. Why would I,” your mouth parts.

That’s not Panda’s voice. It can’t be...He wasn’t supposed to be back for a long time.

You sputter, turning so quickly that the person beside you automatically reaches out to grasp your shoulders. “Hi,” Okkotsu grins. “Don’t fall.”

You stare at him, blinking. You partially reach out, hand wobbling in front of you.

It hurts to breathe. You’re not sure if you can, breathe. Okkotsu’s exactly the same, but also not the same, all at once. He’s let his hair grow out, his bangs longer and leisurely framing his face. Dark circles caress his lower lashes, illuminating eyes that have grown more sunken, more aged. Sanpaku, you think, in concern.

But oh, god. He’s so beautiful. There’s the same kindness, the same laughter lines when he grins, the same searching curiosity flickering in his irises whenever he gazes at you.

For the longest time, you’d been seeing him everywhere. Little glimpses of Okkotsu when you stood on the metro, hints of him in boys with spiky black hair, a sudden rush of recognition when a man passed by wearing a similar white tunic with puffy sleeves.

It’s really him. He’s here.

“You,” you murmur. Your eyes widen. Your body reaches clarity a few seconds before your brain, and you’re lunging forward, making up for lost time spent in lag.

“Oh my god,” you say, over and over again, wrapping your arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re home.”

Okkotsu laughs, melting into your embrace. He returns the hug, squeezing you tightly. Has Okkotsu always been this warm? “Listen,” he mumbles into your ear, “I swear I tried to message you, but the wi-fi was shit --”

You pull back, your eyes wide. Why is he back so soon? Nothing happened, right? They wouldn’t put his execution back on the table, would they? As soon as the thought comes to mind, a familiar dread tingles down your spine, and you jerk away, blood ice-cold. “Are you okay?” You untangle your arms to cup his face, brushing locks of hair away to impulsively thumb the exhaustion present in dark circles underneath his eyes. “Yuuta … You’re not hurt, are you?”

Okkotsu’s eyes widen. He blinks at you twice, his mouth parting. And then, there’s a dumb, happy smile spreading across his face, his face which is now very quickly reddening. “I, um,” he manages, “I’m ..”

You irritatingly blink away the tightness in your throat. “Say you’re okay.” You stare at him, trying to determine for yourself if there’s anything wrong. Images of a few nights ago flash in your brain, a terrible clicking of a phenakistoscope that won’t stop. You shut your eyes, willing the memories to leave. “I can’t, I can’t lose…”

It’s pathetic. You shouldn’t be like this from just getting a hug and seeing Okkotsu. But it’s Okkotsu, you think, automatically. Of course, you’d react like this.

You blink, startled into attention.

Okkotsu lightly rests his hand atop yours, the one cupping his face. His touch is gentle, comforting. It sends warmth spiraling all over your skin.

Your finger lightly traces the area underneath a fresh cut, then glides to the greenish, purple bruise atop his cheekbone, and then another bruise near the rut of his jaw. “You’re hurt.”

Okkotsu has, if possible, turned even more red. His bottom lip trembles, almost like there’s something he wants to say, but he can’t. He just continues to gaze at you with wonder, and something so vulnerable that you can’t look at it for too long.

“Okkotsu.” Your hold on his face firmens. “Answer me.”

“I’m not hurt,” he whispers, embarrassed.

“Then why are you …”

Okkotsu seems to realize what you’re implying, and he shakes his head. “I came back to help Gojou, not because of something bad overseas.” And then, “I’m not in trouble. Please, don’t worry.”

You search his gaze for any trace of pretense, and not finding it, you let your hands fall away from his face. “Okay.”

Despite the longing to keep Okkotsu here, to talk with him about everything that’s been going on, everything he’s missed, all the things you’ve wanted to share with him for months, you think it’s best to let him go.

“You should visit the others,” you smile at him. “They’re going to freak out.”

Okkotsu almost looks disappointed. He lowers his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “You want me to go?”

You laugh, standing to pull him up. “No, I want you to tell everyone you’re back, because I know you’ve missed them, too.”

Okkotsu reluctantly lets you pull him to his feet. “More time to practice isn’t going to help you beat me,” he teases.

You glare at him.

He meets it with a soft smile. It’s one you haven’t seen in a while. “Okay. I’m coming back, though.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Okkotsu laughs again. “Rude. I’m not going to miss a chance to win at chess.”

Oh, you’ve missed him. You missed the way he laughs so easily, that simple smile that makes your heart tug every which way.

He pulls you into another hug, his hand resting against the back of your head. His touch is always so gentle, so warm.

“You said my name.” Even now, you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve never --”

You breathe out a stifled laugh. “Yeah? Am I supposed to call you something else?”

Okkotsu blinks. “Huh?”

“Let’s see,” you smirk, “Special-grade? Idiot? Gojou’s --”

“No,” Okkotsu murmurs, “Yuuta.”

A bright wall slams through your mind, settling itself right between coherent speech and intelligence. You start sifting through memories, flipping pages of a calendar back and back and back.

“You want me to,” the words fall away in your mouth.

“No!” Okkotsu recoils, his arms falling back to his sides. “No, don’t …”

Despite yourself, you can feel hurt flickering across your face.

Okkotsu sees it, of course he does. The same hurt reflects in his eyes, and you bite your lip, already feeling terrible. He always feels what everyone else does. He’s sweet, like that. “Sorry, I meant … That’s what you called me.”

What.

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

You stare at him, a mixture of embarrassment, horror, and confusion rippling across your face in a sudden concoction that can only taste absolutely awful.

Okkotsu’s babbling now, his eyes wide for an entirely different reason. “Oh shit, don’t feel bad ... I just, I know we haven’t been friends for super long, but it’s okay! I didn’t bring it up because I was upset … I’m not, and I don’t know why I mentioned it. So just don’t feel bad, please?”

“I really didn’t mean to,” You repeat, wringing your hands. You should’ve just stuck to playing chess, should’ve kept things brief and let him immediately greet the others. His other friends who are much closer to him, and who should be the ones calling him by his name, not you.

Okkotsu lightly, carefully, touches your hands. A shy smile dusts across his lips, but he won’t meet your gaze. “No, don’t apologize. It was cute. And I liked it. That’s … that’s what I was trying to say. Not make you uncomfortable.”

You stare at him with wide eyes.

Okkotsu’s smile turns into a very nervous one, and then he darts to the door, sporting an unusually wide grin as he waves at you. “I’m gonna go, bye!”

“Wait,” you step forward.

But Okkotsu is already long gone, his white tunic flashing as he twists around the corner. His footsteps echo against the wooden staircase, and you’re left blinking at where he once stood, the chess set in the room all but forgotten.

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don��t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[9layerdevilfoodcake]

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

//

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

/

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

 

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

//

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

/

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

[bl--ankhaeji]

hiii! :). can i request a fic where hendery or yangyang have y/n over at place and she accidentally gets period blood on his bed but after taking care of her, and assuring she’s okay they face another challenge at the store when they try and buy some period items/snacks for her. :) ty!

Pairing ~ Yangyang x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Fluff, Humor

Warning ~ uhh very light mentions of a slight panic attack not really but really two ig if you count yangs,, also unedited  

A.N ~ Sorry took me so long to answer 😅 hope you like it!

W. Count ~ 1.4k  

  The bright rays of light bleed into the room in which you and your boyfriend of a year sleep peacefully, that is until yangyang throws his hand towards your face in his sleep, slapping you awake. You jolt awake from the impact, “Yang what the fuck.” you spit angrily throwing his hand back on him. “Fucking bitch.” rolling your eyes before closing them you start twisting and turning trying to find a comfy spot to go back to sleep until you feel something wet between your legs. 

Your eyes fly open instantly as you curse internally praying that you’re just overthinking and you sit up looking down to see that what you feared was really happening. Your period had decided to come on in the middle of the night and not only that but you had heavily stained YangYang’s sheets and partially his comforter. “Fuck!” hopping out of bed you start silently panicking pacing back and forth wondering how you’re gonna hide this from YangYang. 

In the midst of your panic you didn’t notice that the very person you wanted to stay asleep had woken up. “Babe, what are you panicking about so early I can barely dream with all of your pac-” he stops mid sentence sitting up on the bed as if he had noticed something and instantly your heart drops as you cease all pacing, “Baby,” he starts out slow, “Are those my joggers? I have been looking for those everywhere, shoulda fucking known you had them.” Standing up he walks into his en suite bathroom. 

A breath leaves your lips as pure relief floods your bloodstream and it’s as if someone lifted a brick off your shoulders. You swear you had never stripped a bed of its dressing so quick in your life trying to get it into the washer before YangYang comes out. Gathering everything in your arms you start to trudge your way out of the room, the end was near you could see the finish line just a few more steps and you’ll-. Yangyang’s hand lands on your shoulder causing your body to stiffen immediately and he makes his way in front of you grabbing the bed set out of your hands. 

“There’s some bath water in the tub for you, I’ll take these to the washroom real quick then bring you a towel.” He then leaves the room without another word closing the door softly behind him. The panic that quickly filled you at the thought of him probably seeing the stain on the back of his pants when he walked out of the bathroom leaves just as quick as it came when you realize that he had probably already known the whole time. In its place was an indescribable warmth accompanied with butterflies at the thought that he pretended not to notice because he knew how stressed out you were about it.

Making your way to the bathroom you grab some clothes to change into. The bubble bath that rested in the tub could only be described as fit for a queen; you could even see the freshly opened and used powdered bath milk packet resting in the garbage can. Stripping yourself you sit in the bath filled with water at the perfect temperature and you could feel all of the tension in your muscles loosen. 

You hear YangYang walk back into the room and then the bathroom standing at the door looking at you. “I hope the bath water temp is cool. The comforter should take a hour or two and I can order you some food if you’re hungry.” 

Looking down at the bubbles that rested above your hands, “Thanks for not making a big deal out of this. You’re the best.” YangYang nods with a ‘Damn right I am’ falling from his lips, and a bright smile splits his face before moving to make his way out of the doorway until your voice calls him back.

 “By the way what did you do with that pad I left here last time? I forgot to put another emergency one in my backpack.” At your question the smile that once threatened to tear his face falls and a guilty expression takes its place. 

“Uhhh about that..” he trails off, averting his eyes, his right hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I kinda used your last pad to wipe up my Arizona Green Tea when it spilled.”  

“Yang I- YOU WHAT?!?”  

“I’M SORRY. THEY’RE- they’re really absorbent okay?” A silence falls between the both of you and you finally look back up at him staring him dead in the eyes a serious expression taking over your face. 

“I take it back, you aren’t the best.” 

“WHAT NO?!? You can’t take that back away from me. It’s undeserved, I had nothing else to clean it up with cause we were out of paper towels.” 

“No, it is deserved because now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit in the tub until my period goes off.” You say giving him a deadpan expression. 

“I’ll go to the store and get you some more, okay? I’ll even get you some snacks, what do you want?” 

You give him a list of snacks and tell him explicitly what type of pads to buy, “And if all else fails you can always just call me and I’ll tell you which ones to get.”

Yangyang scoffs, “I’m not stupid how hard could buying some measly pads be.” 

“What the fuck is we doin?” Yangyang drawls out at the sight of all of the pads. “So many words and I have no idea what any of them fucking mean.” he whispers. He picks up a box of pads, “Ok I’m pretty sure the wings are those flappy things that got stuck to my hand when I was wiping up the tea. So that means she wants them to have them, right?”

“Super absorbent..Heavy flow. Does y/n have a heavy flow? I assume so from the amount of blood she got on herself and the bed this morning, so I should buy these right? Wait, but they say teen and she’s not a teen.” putting the box down he picks up another. 

“Maxi, overnight, Super Pads? What makes these super? What the fuck is all of this?!?” Meanwhile Y/n is at the house saying I told you so because she can feel his distress all the way from the store.

Apparently Y/n isn’t the only one who can sense his distress because another boy walks into the section scanning the boxes with precise eyes grabbing one confidently and on the way to the counter when he sees a panic ridden Yangyang. “Hey, bro do you uhh need help or something?” he asks a chuckle falling from his lips. 

Yangyang’s head shoots up looking at the man as if he was a god, “Bro please I have no idea what the fuck any of this means and my girlfriend offered to facetime me if I had trouble but I ran my mouth about how I didn’t ne-”

“Need help and now that you do you don’t wanna call her and hear the I told you so? Yea I know that feeling and I refuse to let another brother feel the same.” The stranger's hand falls on Yangyangs shoulder as a father would his son as he guides him in the ways of the sanitary pads. When he was done Yangyang knew not only of pads but tampons as well and with his chest puffed out he made his way to the counter with the snacks and the pads ready to tell Y/n how he didn’t need help picking out some freaking pads...well not her help anyways. 

“Wow, you actually got the right ones.” you say walking into the room flopping down on the bed beside Yangyang. Opening one of the snacks he got you you lean back on him waiting for him to press play on the movie. 

He clears his throat drawing your attention up to him, “Is there something you would like to say to me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “It rhymes with Shime Shma Shmest...” 

Smacking your teeth you roll your eyes, “Fine, You’re the best.” 

Wrapping his arms around you pulling you more into his chest he nods, “Mmhm I sure am. Don’t forgot okay?” you shake your head at the saying he picked up from his roommate Haechan. 

Yangyang proceeds to press play on the movie and you get a couple minutes in, “Yangyang.” 

“Hm?” 

“I know you got help from someone cause I- mmgmhhmhMMSHSHMMHM” Yangyang’s hand flies over your mouth covering it in order to mute what you’re saying. 

“What’s that I’m sorry babe I can’t hear you. Did you say I’m the Best? Oh, okay thanks so much babe I love you too.” 

[kageruna]

☆.｡.:* Kenma, Oikawa, and Tendou comforting their s/o .｡.:*☆

Warnings: Stress (school stress), anxiety, and friendship struggles (this one directly relates to me so I’m sorry if you can’t enjoy it TwT)

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Reader: Gender neutral

A/n: I’ve been going through some stuff regarding school, friendship, etc. and wrote out these headcanons to make myself feel better TwT. If you’re going through something like this, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you want to talk about it!! I would love to help anyone who’s in need feel at least a little bit better <3

Kozume Kenma

➷ this week has been a really rough week in school

➷ and when i say really rough week, i mean really rough week

➷ you’ve been getting tons more homework than you usually get and there’s been a lot more projects and in-class essays that you had to work on/study for

➷ by the end of the week, you’re basically ready to sleep for 18 hours straight and not care about school or homework for a month

➷ it’s been really stressful

➷ a certain someone, however, noticed what you were going through and saw how much you’ve been struggling

➷ yes, his name is kozume kenma and he is your lovely boyfriend

➷ he’s in a different class/level as you so he didn’t get the assignments you had and received less work than you did that week

➷ every time you guys met up either before school, during lunch, or after school, he noticed the bags under your eyes and the look of absolute exhaustion in your eyes

➷ he felt terrible because he wanted to take that stressed look off of your face but no matter what he did, you seemed to still be struggling a lot

➷ so on friday after school, he organized a little stress-relieving hang out without you knowing

➷ you guys usually went to your own houses to change out of your school uniform and drop off your school bags before going to each other’s houses so you first went back to your own house before going to kenma’s

➷ he first made it seem like you guys were just going to hang out and cuddle or something but to your surprise, when you walked into his house, there were bowls of your favorite snacks and a faint smell of your favorite scented candle wafting through his home

➷ you widened your eyes when you first walked in and the little anxious smile on kenma’s face was ADORABLE

➷ you immediately hugged him and though he was shocked, he immediately wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly

➷ “i know you’ve been really stressed out lately so i wanted you to relax today and to let go of it all”

➷ you damn near cried because you really didn’t think your game-loving introverted boyfriend would do something this caring for you

➷ he led you to the sofa where there were a bunch of blankets and snacks laid out in front of it with the tv pointer already hovering over your favorite show

➷ once you both sat down, he immediately wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest to cuddle while also reaching to grab a blanket to drape it over you two

➷ it was honestly really rare how forward and affectionate he was but he’s doing this all for you and that made your heart positively melt

➷ he started your favorite show and let you settle down with a bowl of your favorite snack in your guys’ laps

➷ this little surprise was just the thing you needed and you can’t believe how absolutely lucky you are to have such a caring boyfriend like kenma <3

Oikawa Tooru

➷ today was,,,, not a great day to put it frankly

➷ you forgot your pencil for the test you had in your first class (you even showed up late to it too!), you accidentally took a book from your own personal stack instead of the needed textbook, you forgot your lunch at home, and you also accidentally got your shoes wet because there was a puddle next to the outdoor water fountain

➷ today was a terrible day

➷ on top of that, your boyfriend kept on getting distracted with different volleyball regimes he was looking at and interrupted your conversation twice because of his fangirls

➷ not even your closest friends could turn your frown upside down

➷ honestly, once school ended, you were ready to just go straight home without talking to anyone and read comfort books and listen to music that calmed you down

➷ however, before you could leave the school campus, oikawa ran up to you to ask if you wanted to hang out and go to the park and have a nice cup of hot chocolate while you’re at it

➷ at first you were confused because didn’t he have volleyball practice?? the same thing that caused him to get distracted from you??

➷ but then you remembered that it was only the first day of the week and his team didn’t have practices on mondays

➷ you first tried to refuse because i mean he was also one of the reasons why you were upset!!

➷ but he kept on whining and begging you to join him for a stroll in the park so you were basically forced to join him he’s so whiny and spoiled oh my god 🙄

➷ little did you know, he actually did notice you were in a bad mood and was actually trying to make you feel better by taking you out on a date

➷ sure, he did get carried away and didn’t necessarily cater to what you might’ve wanted from him but nobody is perfect!! he makes mistakes and isn’t a perfect person all the time too

➷ he wanted to make it up to you and take the other struggles you faced today off of your shoulders

➷ he grabbed your hand and led you to the little cafe next to the park to get yourselves some hot chocolate. he of course paid for you even though you downright refused but hey he’s just trying to make you feel better!!

➷ after you guys got your hot chocolate and headed towards the park, you started feeling a bit better

➷ the hot chocolate was of course warm and absolutely divine but you also noticed how no matter what, oikawa didn’t take his attention off of you and didn’t even talk about the things that annoyed you before like volleyball or his fangirls

➷ he was putting in effort to make you feel better and it warmed your heart 🥺

➷ as you guys walked around the park, he scooched you closer to him so that you guys could snuggle into each other’s warmth

➷ it was really sweet and the cup of hot cocoa made it sweeter <3

➷ when you occasionally looked up to him while having your conversation, he had the softest smile on his face which made you absolutely melt

➷ it felt so nice to have your boyfriend give you the attention you needed and to make you feel better after the hellish day of school and life

➷ and he felt so happy to have such a lovely s/o to spend these simple but sweet moments with and to be able to be there when you needed him <333

Tendou Satori

➷ your friends,,,, yes your fun, loving, and absolutely precious friends

➷ they’ve been with you through thick and thin and you seriously would do anything for them

➷ but if that’s so, why would you feel so hesitant on loving them???

➷ they haven’t done a major thing that would cause you to hate them

➷ all you remember are those little lingering thoughts of anxiety and sadness that are most likely normal in every friendship no matter what

➷ how did it come to the point where you don’t know if you can spend the time and energy loving them as much as you used to???

➷ you’ve been dwelling on this for the past month or so and honestly, it came to the point where your friends along with your boyfriend could tell that something was up with you

➷ whenever they asked, you always responded with a lame excuse and even though sometimes it worked, a lot of the times they still had their doubts

➷ you still tried to act mostly normal with your friends and tried to act like there was nothing wrong with how you viewed them but day by day it was getting harder to come to terms with how you felt and if you really believed you loved them as much as you said you did

➷ it even came to the point where you started distancing yourself from them a little bit to come to terms with how you felt and to give yourself a break

➷ tendou was the most keen of your struggles and tried to read you to see if he could figure out the problem but even if he got it right, you would always deny it and say it was nothing

➷ today, he had enough of your evasive behavior and was determined to get to the bottom of whatever you were feeling

➷ of course he wanted to make you feel better but at the same time, he felt lonely and even started to partially blame your off behavior on himself

➷ i mean how could he not when you acted more hesitant about everything??

➷ the school day went about mostly normal and nothing out of the ordinary happened but while you were hanging out with your friends, tendou was trying to find ways on how to directly confront you

➷ by the end of the school day, he made up his mind and decided to just lead you to his dorm to have a heart to heart without any distractions

➷ so once school ended, tendou immediately told you that he wanted to hang out at his dorm that day and you quickly obliged though you were slightly shocked at how determined he was for such a simple thing

➷ he led you to his dorm and once you both settled into his bed while cuddling, he immediately cut to the chase

➷ “why have you been really hesitant lately? what happened?? did i do something to make you upset somehow?? and don’t try to evade it too, i want the true answer without any sugar coating”

➷ at first, you widened your eyes and took a bit of time to collect your thoughts. tendou waited patiently with his arms still wrapped around you in a comforting embrace

➷ he squeezed you a bit sometimes just to remind you that he was there and that he wouldn’t mind waiting for a long time for your answer

➷ once you gathered your thoughts, you started talking about how you felt about your friends. not the way you would describe them normally but the way you truly felt about them. the weird, lonely, almost heart-breaking feeling you felt since a while ago that you never bothered to mention

➷ he stayed quiet and listened while you vented and explained what you were going through and how you were truly feeling

➷ he slightly chuckled when you hurriedly told him that he wasn’t part of the problem and that he was as perfect as he could possibly be

➷ he squeezed you tightly and kissed the top of your head for that but let you carry on

➷ once you finished talking, there were little streams of tears running down your face with your boyfriend trying to wipe them away and comfort you as best as he could

➷ he didn’t know how exactly to deal with this because he never personally went through something like it but he made sure you knew that he was going to be there with you no matter what and that he would be a safe space whenever you needed someone

➷ his loving words and embrace made you cry harder as you felt a huge weight lift off of your chest once you finally talked about how you were feeling to someone, especially your boyfriend

➷ if he hadn’t been there for you and forced you to talk about how you felt, you truly wouldn’t have known what you would do and if you would eventually break later on

➷ you truly felt like the luckiest person alive with his arms wrapped around your warm body

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading ♡

[whump-town]

November Second

It’s Hotch’s birthday and he’s trying really hard not to let it bother him that everyone seems to have forgotten. (for @therealmadblonde) WARNING: briefly mentions some domestic abuse and child abuse

November 2nd.

They’ve been preparing for a week.

It’s strangely humorous to think that they know one another inside and out and yet, can hardly manage to throw a party for one of their own.

“He’s O negative,” Emily supplies, legs tossed up onto the edge of her desk. She’s twirling a sucker around in her mouth. It’s made her tongue a deep blue and as she speaks Morgan spots it. He points to her tongue-- drawing attention to it with a surprised laugh-- and then points to his own. A silent inquiry if his own has changed color. She nods her head eagerly, “it’s green!”

Morgan nods his head with a proud smile, “cool.”

Dave rolls his eyes at the interaction-- at the idiocy of his coworkers. He loves them, of course, but sometimes he has no idea how he does this every day. “Emily,” Dave says her name with thick disappointment. “You’re the man’s friend. He trusts you and all you can think to add is that his blood is O negative?”

Emily knows more than just that. She knows how he takes his coffee and his Chinese take-out order. That he won’t sleep without a blanket but he doesn’t need a pillow. In fact, he’s more than likely to just sleep without one. He sleeps on his stomach and doesn’t snore. His favorite snack is gummy bears and she’s never once seen him refuse the offer of an oreo. However, she’s failing to see how any of these things amount to “helpful” right now.

So she rolls her eyes and thoughtfully pulls the sucker from her mouth so that she can clearly dictate the amount of sass and snark needed for a rebuttal. “Sorry, Dave.” She shakes her head and motions vaguely with the sucker. “I just thought it would be a little more important to know his blood type than what his favorite color is. Given that he runs into more medical emergencies than battles with evil kindergartens holding him at gunpoint and demanding to know if he likes blue better than green.”

Dave sits back in his chair, shaking his head and leaning his head heavily on his fist. God help them, he thinks. No, God help him.

“It’s good to see you all hard at work,” Hotch comments, dryly as he walks across the cat-walk. He’s walked the path every day for years so it’s nothing for him to keep his eyes glued to the file in his hands rather than where he’s walking. He also knows his agents, his friends, well enough to know that there can’t be any work getting done if they’re all in the bullpen together. Not that he minds. While his tone may divulge a different assumption, they know what he really means-- “please don’t be getting into any trouble”.

Emily turns herself, feet still kicked up, but head now turned so that she can see him. “Hey Hotch,” she greets, lopsided grin pulled to the side by the sucker she’s placed back into her mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”

He comes to a staggering halt on the catwalk. Dark eyebrows knitting together as he turns his attention to the bullpen, his file snapping shut at his side. He’s just come out of a meeting with Strauss-- the only reason the team had gathered in the bullpen to talk so broadly about him. After sitting with that witch of a woman for the last two hours, his brain is a little scrambled-- overworked. So it’s taking him a moment to process the question.

Emily pulls her feet down and smirks, casually caught off guard by the fact that this is so trivial to him. Surely, Jack has laid this question on him. There is nothing children aged 3-6 love more than inquiring about colors. “What is it,” she asks, growing a little more impatient each second he leaves her unanswered. “It’s gotta be green or blue or something.”

He clears his throat, right-- colors. Those are colors. What are his favorite colors?

Purple. It comes to mind first. His eyes dart to Reid the second it does. He associates his resident genius with purple. Lavender, really. Soft. It makes him think of Haley’s funeral, the scarf that Reid had wrapped over his coat. The only real color that day. Hotch’s eyes kept flickering over to it, the only thing that seemed to ground his racing mind.

The answer used to be red. When he was just a boy and naïve and because it was the same color as a fire truck. The color doesn’t associate with firetrucks anymore. He remembers his mother’s busted lip as she urgently shut him into a closet, seven years old and cowering away at the sound of his mother’s choked pleads for his father to just leave. He didn’t need to do this.

“He’ll learn,” she had begged. “He’s just a boy, Mark. Please, please--” He’d flinched when the door was thrown open, his father standing there in the doorway.

And Haley. Red reminds him of the pain. Haley always got cold so easily and he’d just wanted to hold her a little longer. Keep her warmly tucked against him and try to remember the way she used to play with the hair at the back of his head. Pushing her finger against the way it grows.

“Hotch?”

He blinks once-- twice-- “I, uh,” he shakes his head. Trying frantically to remember whatever color he’d told Jack last. Probably like… “Blue or green,” he says with a shrug, trying to play off his reaction. His hands ache with the memory of that day. He’d broken three metacarpals in his left-hand killing Foyet, set himself up for carpal tunnel and arthritis. A price he pays everyday. A handful of medicine to survive the damage of the stab wounds and another to work against the inflammation.

Shaking his head of the thoughts he keeps heading towards his office. That’s not what he needs to be thinking about right now. If he’s not careful he’s going to end up having an anxiety attack on his office floor and that’s just not something he really wants to deal with right now. Especially, here with no medicine insight and where any member of the team could walk in on that.

That’d be just his luck.

Bogged down by work, he doesn’t even think about his birthday. He gets too caught up in Halloween and the party Garcia throws for Day of the Dead and he’s exhausted. Rundown.

He doesn’t even realize how quickly his birthday is rolling in until the morning of.

November 2nd.

He’s fifty-four. Old.

Hitting snooze, he lets himself sink back into the warmth of his bed. He doesn’t want to go to work. He’d much rather stay here. Catch up on sleep and, who knows, eat something crazy for lunch. Chocolate chip pancakes or eggs and too many pieces of bacon.

But he can’t afford that. The office still needs him. There’s still a job to be done.

Birthday or not.

He’s not expecting anything but typically, by now, most of them have sent him a fond message. Nothing crazy.

Garcia bakes him macadamia nut cookies. A dozen, just for him, and takes the team their own. There aren’t any cookies on his desk when he comes in.

Derek and Dave are nowhere to be seen. JJ’s arguing loudly with someone on the phone. Emily’s ducked into her work and Reid’s spinning in his chair. No one says anything to him. He decides it doesn’t matter. Today’s just another day. Every year he tells them how much he hates celebrating his birthday. He does hate celebrating it but… he doesn’t mind it entirely. He does like Garcia’s crushing hug and having to squeeze Reid so he knows Hotch doesn’t mind their hug. He likes Morgan making jokes at his expense and Emily rising to his defense. Dave shaking his head at them all.

Then, when they’ve all left, Dave pulling him in tightly and reminding, “I’m so proud of you, kid. Happy Birthday.”

He guesses they’re not doing that this year.

He’s searching for where Reid’s ran off with the sugar when Emily Prentiss blows through the break room. “What’s the rush,” he asks. Hotch doesn’t talk all that much. He’s prone to silence and a much better listener but he’s starved for a little adult conversation. Something, even a meaningless conversation, is better than the internal monologue he’s had going since he stepped into the office.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she shakes her head, sighing. “A case,” comes her haste reply. “They’ve got me running front for some case in Louisiana.” An obvious hit at Emily to bother her. Southern states are typically covered by Morgan or Hotch. It’s not to be presumptuous but the more southern the state the less likely they are to want to listen to a woman’s advice on the matters of their murders.

He grimaces in sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

She sighs when she sees the other coffee pot is slowly filling, meaning she’s going to have to wait for a cup.

“Here,” he offers her his own cup. The mug is one Jack had gifted him some time ago. Hand-painted. He and Haley had made it when he was only about a year-old. The colors are horrid but Hotch can’t stand to think about parting from the thing. Ugly as it is, in Haley’s fine print are the words: We Love You Daddy! Sometimes rubbing his finger against those raised letters is the only way he can get through the day.

Emily accepts the mug with a sad smile. She knows he’s partial to the mug but she needs the coffee. She slides him her mug, it suddenly hits her when she does. “Shit!”

He frowns.

“I’m so sorry,” she pours sugar into his mug. She’s clearly overwhelmed, visibly upset. “I can’t go to lunch.”

Every year on his birthday they go to lunch. It’s nothing special. They got to lunch all the time. About once a week. So, it’s not really that big of a deal but he can’t help but feel a little sad. He likes spending time with her but he doesn’t so much as let an ounce of that disappointment show.

Taking Emily’s mug, he shrugs it off. “It’s fine,” he insists, well aware that she’ll know he’s lying if he can’t meet her eyes. He makes a point of forcing his gaze on her, settling a rare smile her way. “We’ll catch up later,” he assures with a nod. “Go on, I’m sure the Louisiana PD are waiting on hand and foot to hear back from you.” She rolls her eyes and he smirks. When she turns to walk away he adds, “and, Emily? If they give you a hard time--”

She shakes her head at him, “I know....” Turning back to hurry out she shouts back to him, “happy birthday, Hotch!”

No one else says anything.

He just… sits in his office. His paperwork is done. There’s no reason for him to be here.

Haley would have remembered. She always remembered.

Every year she’d make him a cake-- something crazy and he’d never know what to expect. For three years in a row, she’d burned the hell out of the cakes and he’d come home to her sobbing on the floor. In her defense, they were both very stressed trying to get her pregnant. Things weren’t going well. Then she got pregnant and forgot about the cake and it burned. Having a toddler around the next year had not helped her case.

He’d never minded. She was also so happy to have him around.

The other side of the bed used to be warm. He’d wake up to her fingers ghosting along his back or her head on his shoulder. Now he wakes up alone and raises their son alone.

He killed her and he’ll never forgive himself for that.

Sighing, rubbing at his tired eyes, and feeling the steadily increasing pain in his back he decides he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday anyway. What is there to celebrate? What about him is good enough to praise? On his watch, Reid had been kidnapped. JJ scooped up by the “Pentagon” and sent to war where she lost a child. Emily died. Garcia got shot outside of her home. Morgan was forced to face his abuser, again. Jason left. He didn’t help Elle.

He doesn’t even deserve it. It’s not even worth the time.

“Hotch?”

He flinches at the sudden invasion, squirting to see who it is at his door. Reading glasses askew and pen hovering in the same spot it has been for the last hour, at least he looks like he’s been busy. He forces himself to liven up a bit, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Can I help you,” he asks hopefully, a smile tugging at his lips.

JJ nods, checking the watch on her wrist. “Yeah, uh, Garcia needs you down in the lair. I don’t know-- Listen, I don’t know what it is but she’s been bugging me about it all day. Can you just go check it out?” She sighs and pushes her hair back from her face. “I’ve got to get out of here. See you later, Hotch.”

He just nods. Throat tight.

It’s stupid. This whole day.

He’d never even celebrated a birthday until he was eighteen. Haley had gotten him a cupcake, just trying to make something of the day. For the longest time, she was the only person who even cared. Then Dave and Gideon had come. On his first birthday with them, they’d gotten him a tie. It had birds on it. Then Derek had come and JJ and Garcia and Reid and then Emily. He went for almost twenty years without celebrating a freaking birthday.

This one isn’t even that important.

He’s just being stupid.

Sighing, he makes his way out of his office. No one’s in the bullpen. The place is shut down for the night.

Hands in his pockets, he’s sulking down the hall. Head down and eyes on the tiles as he walks. Vaguely, slowly he hears the unmistakable banter of Garcia. It’s hushed, quick. At the top of the hall, he can see her door is cracked open. Just enough to allow him to see Reid moving inside, his hand being swatter because it looks like… he’s got icing on his fingers. He doesn’t even look ashamed to have been caught swiping at the cake.

Too anxious now to be excited, Hotch makes his way down the hall. Thankful the motion sensor lights have been turned off now that the building should have officially closed some two hours ago. They don’t hear him coming.

Sticking his head in the room he sees Garcia’s entire lair is covered in gifts, decorations, and stuffed with the members of his team. He smirks at the sight. Morgan’s trying to light the candles on the cake, Reid observing that they’re probably going to set the fire alarm off. Emily’s sitting on the couch, fiddling with the zipper on her boot, waiting. JJ anxiously wraps her necklace around her finger.

“Sir!”

He feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

When Garcia sees him, though, her lower lip starts to tremble. “Oh sir, I’m so sorry!”

He stiffens when she hugs him, completely unprepared. “Sorry,” he repeats, looking over her head to the others for some sort of direction. “What are you sorry for, Garcia?’ It’s clear they hadn’t forgotten. If they had he would easily forgive them. It’s a birthday. It doesn’t matter that much.

She hiccups sadly, pulling away to look up at him. “We made you sad,” she whispers. “It was stupid idea,” she says with a shake of her head. “We just wanted to throw you a surprise party but you don’t even like parties!” With each passing moment, she’s just getting more upset. “So, look--” she goes to the left, to a little table where she produces a plate of cookies. The macadamia nut cookies. “I even brought you cookies--”

She’s flustered enough that when he’s the one to pull her into a hug, she just melts.

“Garcia?” She holds onto him tightly. “Thank you.” He can feel her pulling in a breath to push away the words but he keeps going. “No one, other than Haley, has ever cared enough to even make me a cake. Let alone try and throw me a surprise party.”

She sniffles, “that’s so sad.”

He huffs, smirking, “I guess.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Reid really doesn’t want to break up the sweet moment but the cake has been taunting him all afternoon. “Does that mean we can cut the cake now?”

Morgan rolls his eyes, “you’ve had your fingers in the damn thing all day, pretty boy!”

Hotch nods his head and Reid smirks at Morgan, clearly pleased he’s won this argument regardless of the fact that he has been swiping a finger through the icing. But cake is cake. 

“Alright birthday boy.” Emily’s balancing the cake in her hands, bringing it to him carefully. The candles lighting up her eyes in a way that seems scarily mischievous. “Make a wish!”

He frowns at her but the look softens when Rossi places an encouraging hand on his back. He blows the candles out with a smile. 

“What’d you wish for?” Reid asks hopefully. 

Morgan pushes him, “you can’t say it out loud, doofus! It won’t come true.”

Emily rolls her eyes, obviously mentally scorning them both for their childish natures and for Morgan believing that.

It makes him smile to watch. The three of them hovering over the cake as Emily cuts it and Reid and Morgan try to fight for the first piece she cuts. Reid gets it but that’s not surprising. He smirks at Morgan but the devious look falls quickly when he sees Hotch is watching. 

Dave seems to come out of no where. He leans against the wall beside Hotch, “you good?”

Hotch nods, unsure if he can trust his voice right. Very good. 

[crescent-yoon]

Lovers In The Night 🌙

Ib: Lovers In The Night - Seori

Summary: What happens when a boy and a girl meet for the first time, only to have this one night. All by pure coincidence.

🌙

Bullies. That's how you managed to bump into Yang Jungwon. It was funny, really. The bullies were the one that chased you but you didn't know whether to be angry or thank them because that's how you met Jungwon after all.

They were chasing you over god knows what, you had been running from them for so long that you hadn't even begun to remember anymore, when you had bumped into something hard that had caused you to fall onto the ground.

"I'm sorry." You shyly and quickly nodded towards him, hearing the bullies approaching. Their loud feet stomping on the pavement as they ran in your direction.

"Hey!" One of the bullies yelled as they came to a stop a few feet behind you. "Y/N. Where do you think you're going? You can't avoid us."

You couldn't find it in you to move or glance behind you. All you could do was bring yourself to stare at the ground, almost completely forgetting about the boy in front of you.

"She's with me." He suddenly speaks up with a clear of his throat.

Why is he sticking up for me? You thought to yourself.

"Isn't that Yang Jungwon?" You heard another one of the bullies say.

So, Jungwon was his name.

"That is okay, right?" Suddenly, he looks down at you and asks you, "they're not bothering you, are they?"

It was the kind of tone that someone uses when they already know the answer, or the kind of tone a parent uses to lecture a young child.

"N-no?" You couldn't help but stutter as you looked and saw the fear in the bullies' eyes.

What's the matter with them? You internally asked, confused but you wouldn't dare question it aloud.

"Alright, well." He flashed a smile, it seemed almost misleading. "You can leave now. Y/N's with me."

The bullies all bowed politely in acceptance and quickly ran back in the direction the had chased me from. While you still sat on the ground, watching it all.

Once they were out of the two of yours peripherals, he looked down at you with a smile. Though this one was different. This one seemed genuine.

"Jungwon." His dimples showed as he extended his hands out towards you partially for a handshake and partially to help you up.

"I'm Y/N." You returned the smile, dusting of your hands on your pants before accepting his hand.

It seemed as though he was going to say more but his own thoughts had interrupted him.

With wide eyes he asked, "Doesn't your ankle hurt?"

Confused, you had looked down only to see that your ankle was bleeding just a bit, but you had felt fine.

"No, I'm alright." You laughed, nervously. You weren't sure why you were nervous but you weren't uncomfortable.

"Come on." He sighed as he suddenly bent down, back in front of you.

"Huh??"

"Get on my back."

You weren't sure why you had agreed. I mean, your ankle had felt just fine and you had only met Jungwon approximately 5 minutes ago.

"Where are we going?" You asked, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he carefully stood up.

"The convenience store," he grunted as he started walking. "They're always open and you're ankle is going to get infected if you don't take care of it."

You didn't have any objections seeing as how you were quite a forgetful person. By the time you got home, you'd be so exhausted that you'd forget about your ankle entirely.

"It isn't far away. It's probably down the block from here."

"Do you live around here?" You asked as you rested your chin on his shoulder. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"I used to live around here but recently I moved to Seoul because of the things happening in my life right now."

"Oh, did something bad happen?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." He grunted as he placed me on a chair in front of the convenience store. "Amazing things happened to where I could fulfill my dreams."

More was on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to ask what that dream was but as he was straightening out his flannel he asked, "do you want anything, like a drink or a snack, while I'm in there getting stuff for your ankle?"

Though you were hungry, you had already felt bad enough that he had carried you there and offered to treat your ankle. So, you just shook your head and watched him go inside.

As you waited for him to come back out, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful the moon looked.

Soon, Jungwon had come out of the convenience store with what looked like more than he could carry. He was holding a bag with the handles in his mouth (you had assumed that it was probably items for your ankle), two sodas on his sides, keeping them there with his arms, and two bowls of noodles in his hands. You had stood up to try and help him but he just shook his head and mumbled a firm 'no' at you.

After he has set the items down with a bit of hassle, he slid one of the sodas and bowl of noodles towards you as he put your ankle on top of his thighs.

"I know you said that you weren't hungry but I could totally see through you." Jungwon laughed as he began opening a bag of cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "It was so obvious that you were hungry. I really don't mind buying you food, plus it'll be a good distraction for you."

"A distraction?" You tilted your head, mouth full of noodles as you began to feel a stinging sensation on your ankle.

Now you had known what he meant. It was to distract you from the fact that he was going to clean your wound up and it would burn.

You tried your best to keep still and continue eating as he treated your ankle. You even tried to ignore the fact that now, he had moved on to the cotton swabs and ointment. You were most definitely trying your hardest not to flinch, scared that you might injure him and then you'll both need to be treated.

You were halfway done with your ramen when he had finsished cleaning it and wrapped a bit of gauze over your ankle.

He gently patted your ankle as if he were indicating that he were finished and that it's okay.

"See. All done." He mumbled as he took a bite of his noodles. "And you're ankle is swollen, by the way."

"Thank you." I smiled gratefully at him as I finished eating as well. "I can still walk though. So you really didn't need to carry me and you really didn't have to do all these nice things for me."

"It's fine, really." He tilted his head at me, his dimples reappearing again. "Plus, I was going to ask you for a favor."

It caught you by surprise but you answered with a, 'sure'.

"I don't know the next I'll be around here, so if it's okay with you, hang out with me. Just for this one night."

Somehow he kept managing to surprise you and always, you couldn't find it in you to say no to him.

"Alright." You said, causing Jungwon to burst with glee.

You two had finished eating and before you knew it, he was holding onto your hand and running with you far off into the darkness.

"Where are we going?" You asked a you tried to keep your feet in place with his, wincing from time to time from your ankle.

"That's the beauty of it, Y/N." He yelled over the sound of your footsteps. Though you were behind him, you could hear the excitement in his voice and feel it in the way he gently squeezed your hand. "We don't know! We'll just have to adventure!"

You kept running as far as each other's feet carried you until you two had found an arcade and a claw machine outside.

"Wait, Y/N!" He stopped and pulled you over to the claw machine. "Let's play this! I bet I can totally win you something!"

You were in happy disbelief. How could this boy get so excited over winning something for you and why would he want to do that?

You watched as he attempted and immediately failed. He looked at you in shock and pointed at the machine as if he were in utter disbelief that he had just lost.

"Wait. Did you see that?" He shook his head playfully as turned back to the machine again. "Let me try it again."

At this point, you couldn't help but be amused. You knew that it was a game designed for people to lose but you couldn't help but find it funny (and a quite cute) that he was concentrating so hard.

After a few more attempts, you started to glance at the arcade. Curious about what games you and Jungwon could play on there.

"Can I try it?" You smiled at him after he had lost another attempt.

"Sure." He smiled with an amused look on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned on the glass, putting another coin in the machine for you. "But don't expect to win though. You saw how it went for me. It's deadly difficult."

You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile as you pinpointed the plush doll that you had wanted to win. You really wanted to get the sheep plush. It reminded you a bit of Jungwon for some reason. After a few seconds of trying to center the claw, you decided to push the button that makes the claw grab it.

You jumped up and down in joy and surprise as you had managed to collect it. You hadn't even noticed that you had quickly hugged Jungwon.

His eyes had widened and he stood there in shock. Partially due to the fact that you got a plush doll in your first try and partially because you had just hugged him and he felt tingly inside.

You handed him the sheep plush with a giggle as he still stood like a statute and began walking off into the arcade.

It took him a second to come to realization but he ran after you with the plush doll in his hands and grabbed your hand to make sure that you don't wander off anywhere else.

You had no idea why but you felt all tingly inside when he had done that.

"What do you want to play?" Jungwon asked you as he swayed your intertwined hands together, holding the sheep plush in his other.

"Well, we just have tonight right?" You turned to look at him unsure of the meaning of the gleam in his eyes. "So let's enjoy everything."

You two giggled and played in the arcade for at least a good two hours. Sometimes he'd beat you and tease you a bit for losing, and other times, you'd beat him and do a little victory dance just to gloat. You were having so much fun that you hadn't even remembered about your ankle.

"Where to next, Y/N?" Jungwon smiled at you brightly, the sheep plush still in his hand while a bunny was held tightly in yours, yet he still swung your hands back and forth.

Of course you hadn't mind it, but you were getting serious butterflies everytime he held your hand and showed that smile.

"I picked the arcade, so it's your turn." You giggled at him, a bit shy suddenly.

"Let's just walk around for a while." He continued walking alongside you, holding your hand and putting it in his coat pocket due to the chilly night air.

You two didn't stop walking until you reached a bridge where the night sky could be seen clearly and the moon shine so brightly.

"Does your ankle feel better? I totally forgot about it." He spoke to you as he kept his eyes fixated on the moon.

You glanced back at the moon too as you squeezed his hand, "It's fine. You really shouldn't worry about it so much."

After responding, the summer air seemed to fill the silence before Jungwon spoke once again, "The moon looks beautiful tonight".

But when you glanced back at him, you noticed that he wasn't looking at the moon but at your intertwined hands.

"It does." There was honesty in your answer, but there was also affection laced into the tone of your voice.

Another silence. But at the same time, you felt like your heart was beating so loud that even Jungwon could hear it.

"Can I kiss you?" He spoke after a while, just barely being able to meet your eyes. The shock on your face was evidently clear.

"What?"

And before you knew what had happened, the boy had leaned close, releasing the hand that held yours to cup your face. And nothing had stopped you the moment your lips had intertwined instead, but your heart had urged you to return the kiss.

"I wish we didn't only have this night and I'm kind of sad that it's over so soon."

"Me too." You looked up at the moon, trying to avoid his eyes.

You held onto his hand and he walked alongside you. Not knowing where you were taking him. You two just walked in silence until had stopped in front a house.

1130 Jungwon thought to himself. I'll keep that in mind.

"Well, this is my house." You turned as you smiled at him. "I've got to go inside. My parents are totally going to be in my case in the morning for being home so late. Thanks for tonight, Jungwon. It's the most fun I've had in a long time."

You began to walk towards the door until a gentle force pulled you and Jungwon's lips had met with yours once again.

"Tonight was the most fun that I've had in a long time too, Y/N."

Those dimples reappearing once more.

"Let's trade plushies." He smiled as he switched his sheep plush for your bunny one. "That way, hopefully, you won't forget about me and I won't forget about you too."

Like you'd ever be able to forget Yang Jungwon.

It was then that you knew what that gleam in his eyes was earlier that shone even now, only in front of you.

Affection.

"Hopefully, I'll get to see you again one day. You might see me again sooner than you think."

It was a sentence that you had gotten slightly confused about but you took his weird for it.

"So then.. this isn't a goodbye," you hugged him. "This is just a really long see you later?"

He hugged you back gently, that being enough of an answer for you. After releasing you from the hug, he gently nudged you towards the front door.

"Go on." He smiled with a wave, his dimples peaking out underneath the moonlight. "I don't want you to get in more trouble because of me."

Waving to him as you gently closed the door, you had wondered if you'd really ever see him again.

You ran upstairs and laid peacefully in your bed with your sheep plush, the memories of tonight replaying in your head.

It wasn't until your friend had forced you to watch an Enhypen stage that you knew what Jungwon truly meant that you might see him sooner than you think.

This was Jungwon.

But the secret between the two of you, the one night that belonged only to you two that you had known of. Getting to be each other's Lovers In The Night.

Author Side Note: This was originally supposed to be a Jake X Reader story but I couldn't find images that suited what I had in mind. I soon realized that Jungwon was perfect for this story.