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joelalorian · 8 months ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

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Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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matan4il · 2 years ago

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Buddie 610 meta

Holy shit, this ep.

Okay, what shall we start with? Maybe with what 911 itself starts, lots of foreshadowing. At the beach call, we have Eddie looking at Buck and replying to him (about the lightning), “I really hope it doesn’t strike twice, though.” Which, of course we know it will. But the foreshadowing continues, as Buck talks to Omar about unexpected things in life coming out of nowhere. That suggests we need to pay extra attention to other elements in this ep that might act as foreshadowing for later events along 6b. ~~

That kind of connects to me with Buck being closely tied to Ely, the pregnant lady (he saves the day there twice, first by realizing the oil is dripping and if they use the saw, it might prove fatal, then by helping Bobby with the baby). First off, it made me chuckle when we learned that, despite being driven to the hospital by a man, he’s actually not her partner. 911 made sure we knew Ely has a wife, and that she has another kid with her. Is it a coincidence when Buck, who practically has a husband and a kid with him already, is the main firefighter taking care of her? Maybe, but it still amused me. What really made me take note is when he told her not to push, trying to stall her childbirth, and she replied that it doesn’t depend on her. That made me wonder if perhaps this is also in a way foreshadowing what we might end up seeing with the sperm donation storyline. I’m not sure, I can’t be, but I was not surprised to see that storyline brought up later in the ep. ~~

In general, this ep’s title, “In a Flash,” might seem to refer to the lightning storm the team experiences, but the real tempest is the havoc our families can wreak on us, tied to the unexpected nature change can sometimes take on. Chim’s dad suddenly shows up, raining on his parade. Albert suddenly thinks Chim should give their dad a chance to be Jee Yun’s grandpa, but decides against giving his brother a warning. The Buckley parents are suddenly making an effort, yet leaving everyone suspicious and unnerved. Albert suddenly leaks Buck’s sperm donation to everyone and unleashes hell between the in-laws. Denny’s changes, probably influenced by getting in touch with his dad, come as a surprise to Hen. And of course, at the climax of the ep, Bobby as the unofficial adoptive father of Buck might lose his son in a flash. The whole ep is filled with these parallels of abrupt familial disquiet, especially in relation to dads, on all 118 fronts. And as Buck deals with maybe the biggest of these questions, because he doesn’t even yet know what he wants for himself and how does the life he helped create (but only as a donor) fit into that, it’s no wonder his life ends up hanging literally in the balance. ~~

One of the most painful things in this ep for me was seeing how much Buck’s parents are willing to accept him as a donor, because not for a second do they think he can be a father. That would be the natural conclusion from him looking at a sonogram on his phone, but his parents find it easier to believe their daughter is pregnant again than to think Buck would be a dad (ironic, because he already is one. Just not to the baby in the sonogram). It reminded me of how Eddie’s parents also didn’t believe in his ability to be a dad, and actively petitioned to have Chris taken from him to be raised by them in 315. It amazes me every time anew just how much Buddie are compatible, because their stories parallel so much that they can understand each other in ways most other people can’t. ~~

And it gets to me that this whole episode also insists on reminding us how good Buck is with kids, first with the ones on the beach, calming them down and answering their questions to help them make sense of the whole ordeal. Then with Ely’s baby, a callback to how we saw him with the pipe baby in 101. It connects to him looking at the baby sonogram, all excited, once again acting so much like an expectant dad would (parallel to him and the firefighter onesie in 609), when we know he’s not actually going to be that baby’s father. It very much does feel like 911 is signaling to us Buck has some realizations coming his way in this context. ~~

Speaking of the kids on the beach, Buck telling the boy he wants to fix everything, then adding that Buck gets it, had me screaming into my fists, because hey, remember who said that to Buck? That’s right, his Eddie, back in 504. A reminder of how much Eddie sees Buck, accepts him and allows him to be himself, enabling Buck in turn to reflect that back to that kid. Of course, in the context of the sperm donation, Buck’s tendency made him want to help “fix” things for Connor and Kameron, and we might learn in 6b that Buck comes to realize he sometimes lets this tendency take him to places that aren’t actually good for him, without fully considering the consequences, and then hopefully, he’ll get to find a way to balance this, to be himself, but not derailed from his life goals by this part of himself. ~~

At the same time that the ep shows us how good Buck is with kids, it also serves to remind us of the one kid that we’ve seen him co-parent all along, the one who has always demonstrated what a good, loving dad Buck is, Christopher. Yes, when we see Buck working on his cooking with Bobby, it’s a part of the many parallels revolving around dads in this ep, so Buck and Bobby’s r/s is the immediate focus, but at the same time, we know who Buck is learning this FOR. Lazania kitchen scene from 601, anyone? Oh, but the best part? It’s when Buck tells Bobby, “Something’s missing.” He can’t quite put the finger on what, but he knows something in his domesticity isn’t fully there. I wonder what, Buck... And this is again in an ep full of foreshadowing! ~~

It may seem like a minor thing, but remember how in my past meta, I was more or less losing it over the many times Buck and Eddie did rope rescues together as their own team within the 118 team, even having their assigned roles where Eddie connects Buck to the line and then becomes an anchor himself to keep Buck safe, to the point where I wrote a smut fic involving this very meaningful act? Yeah, so imagine me seeing that the most intense Buddie call we’ve had since the end of 413 starts with them doing this subtextually intimate thing, Eddie hooking Buck up to the rope, becoming his literal life line, and even teasingly calling him “cowboy” while at it. No, I was not breathing for a full minute at least. ~~

But since I brought up the shooting in 413, can we talk about the insanity of the parallels? Take the meaningful staring once disaster strikes. Back in s4, it was mutual, right before Eddie collapsed. In 610, Buck is unconscious, so you wouldn’t think they could stare at each other at this moment, right? Plus, back in 413, it was just the two of them present at the scene out of the 118, the other members of the team weren’t there. The lightning strike seems a lot less intimate in comparison... But in this ep, the camera plays a role in recreating that same dynamic, singling out the connection between Buddie. Because when Buck is hit by lightning, we get shots of every 118 member looking up and being terrified of what just happened to their friend.

The only exception in terms of this shot? Eddie. He’s the only one that isn’t being filmed from the side as he looks up, he’s filmed from above as he looks straight into the camera. Essentially, the shot recreates Buck’s POV for Eddie, and for him alone. It shows us what Buck would see and how he would stare down, back at Eddie, if he only could. The fact that the camera has to do this instead of Buck himself further emphasizes the horror of Buck being unconscious, but the choice to do this only with Eddie highlights their connection and makes it clear that Buddie’s bond IS different to what the other team members have with Buck, no matter how close the others are to him or how much they love him. What’s insane is that DESPITE having all of the 118 there, there is still a bubble within this whole situation that is Buddie and Buddie’s alone, even as Buck himself is unconscious. It’s no wonder Eddie jumps up that electrocuted ladder without even thinking about it, it’s no wonder no one even tries to stop him or warn him of the danger in that. That is a man on a mission to save the other half of him, and the show tells us that in more than one way.

That’s gonna continue through Eddie’s attempts (and eventual success) in getting Buck away from immediate danger, as well as when the team tries but then fails to revive Buck, because Eddie will be the one to push past Bobby to see Buck, and Eddie will be the one Bobby has to keep in line by assigning him driving duty, maybe the most important thing anyone can do for Buck once all the medical assistance they can give him in the field is of no further use. ~~

One more thing regarding the comparison with the shooting arc in s4, as well as talking about camera shots, is that we get to see the difference between a platonic friend resuscitating his teammate and a man desperately trying to keep the love of his life alive. If you look at Chim doing compressions on Buck, he’s giving it his all, because he DOES love Buck, Chim’s doing his best for his friend and brother in law. But the shot is not an intimate one, we don’t get close ups, we don’t get to focus on the eyes and see the frantic look of a man who knows he CAN’T fail, we don’t see the intimate touch of a hand laying a gauze on an exposed chest and trying to keep this treasured body together, we do get “come on, Buck,” but we don’t get personal speech, begging the other man to hold on and just “stay with me.” While back in 414, in the ambulance, we had ALL of those as Buck, almost on the verge of losing his sanity, fought for Eddie’s life. ~~

Lastly, I’ve made in the past a gifset of times when we’ve seen Buck screaming Eddie’s name in horror at the face of danger (including in 413), and I love that we can finally add to that Eddie doing the same thing for Buck. But I think it’s particularly meaningful that it happened not as a matter of when Buck would be in danger, but rather it was a question of just how significant Buck had to become to Eddie for this former, highly decorated soldier to go from the stoic man he was in 218 to what we see in 610 (as seen in my latest weekly gifset). Because Eddie WAS incredibly worried back in the s2 finale. He was gritting his teeth, you can see the tension on his face, and the second it was safe, he sprang to Buck’s side. Eddie also held on to him while everyone else was lifting the truck (even though Chim, as a medic, would have been a more natural choice to hold on to Buck, while Eddie the firefighter helps lift engine 118). And Eddie wouldn’t even let go of Buck’s hand on the way to the truck. HE WAS DISTRAUGHT. But the man who kept his facade up in the hospital after Shannon, his wife and mother of his son, died just one ep earlier, did the same thing with Buck. What I find so telling is that he can no longer do that by 610. Buck has become such an integral part of his life, of his family, of who Eddie is as a person and how he deals with life, way more than even Shannon managed to be. And that’s why Eddie loses it, confirming what we’ve known for a while: Buddie are life partners. ~~

I now have direct links to my weekly meta posts, my Buddie gifs and more of my content in my pinned post. Loads of love to @whosoldherout for making unbelievable gifs for my very unique requests. You’re a star! Tag list will follow in the reblog. Thank you in advance for any reblog and like! I’m operating on 1.5 hours of sleep to get this posted ASAP, so I really appreciate any and all encouragement to keep doing this. xoxox

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agerefandomstuff · 3 months ago

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Hey, i rq'ed the cg sam hcs, and i loved them!!!! I was wondering if you could do some more cg sam hcs, but for a babyspace little! Have a fantastic day <3

I had writers block for a while so I’m very sorry for getting to this so terribly late. As an apology here’s an entire no-beta Baby!Reader Cg!Sam fic;

Word count: 2248

Title: Finding Comfort in your Role

(I don’t know I might change that title)

The boys come back to the hotel and find you regressed.

Although you’d been regressing around Sam for a while now, it was always in short bursts and he personally had yet to start prepping you beforehand or help you out of anything after. You’d always done that part on your own since this was all brand new to him and it made you both more comfortable if you handled changing into different clothes and diapers until a bit later in his soft launch caregiver trial.

However when the boys came back from their hunt today, you were sat on the motel floor, half undressed, chewing on the remote with that innocent fuzzy look in your eyes Sam was beginning to find familiar. He knew you'd talked about unintentionally regressing before but he still assumed it wasn't like a… demon possession or something. It didn't just suddenly happen, catching you off guard, did it? Surely you always felt it coming on..?

While he had a ton of his own questions rattling around in his head–along with all of Dean’s mildly rude ones–he didn't have any good immediate answers. But researching couldn't be his number one priority. That was you. And also getting that nasty remote out of your mouth. Even though no one other than his brother had touched it since they’d been here, they didn't exactly have a reputation of checking into the cleanest of places. But even if they did, who knew what was on Dean’s hands?

“Hey baby…” Sam dropped his bag of equipment on the floor and rushed over to you, gently tugging the remote from your hands and out of your mouth while you were luckily distracted by the excitement of seeing him come back. Tossing it up on the bed and away from your eager little hands, he uses his strength to his advantage by scooping you up under the armpits and setting you on his hip with a continued coo. “Oooh up.. there you go…Hi, baby.. Hi.. What happened?” He asks in a deceptively light and playful tone, not wanting to potentially scare you by talking in the same overly gruff tone Dean did when he was confused with concern. You didn't respond in any real words, only giggles and confusing garbled babbles.

Dean finally follows Sam inside, locking the door behind him and setting their weapon bags away in the closet where you wouldn't be able to get to them as easily if you suddenly decided Sam’s appearance was no longer interesting and fun to make noises at.

“Hm? Can you tell me what happened, pumpkin?” Sam asks again, hoping maybe since you had responded–as childish and incomprehensible was it was–that perhaps you might miraculously get a real word out of your lips to give him a hint of what caused you to regress. That plan is quickly given up on along with his attempts to put your jacket back on.

While briefly glancing around for your missing sock he finds his duffle bag of clothes strewn about the floor. no doubt something you had gotten into.“Oh… that's…I see you found.. my clothes.. instead of your own…” he tugs your jacket off your arm and lays it beside the wet remote while he calls out to his brother who was already making his way over, “Um.. Dean? Could you grab–”

“On it.” Dean answered, knowing his little brother well enough to already be looking for your bag, having the same thought that you must have been looking for something earlier.

As he searched you’d began to play with Sam’s hair, tugging on it slightly then giggling when he would try to gently pry your hand away with quiet complaints of pain.

Finding your bag slipped down between the wall and the side of the bed, Sam comes over to search for the supplies he assumed you had been searching for with a rapidly regressing mind. He was hoping there would be something inside you could occupy your busy little hands or mouth with that might save his poor scalp from more pain as you continued to tug on his hair.

“So are you going to answer any of my questions about what's going on or at least give me an idea of what I might be looking for?” Dean asked, helping pull things out from the bag since Sam was struggling to do so while holding you and trying to fight your surprisingly persistent hands. Now Dean has no issue going through someone else's belongings if it's necessary… (or if it’s fun), but he really wasn't sure what he was supposed to be getting out of your bag. He could guess it was something you owned that would relate to whatever… relationship you and his little brother had but…he had been purposely trying to keep himself a bit in the dark on that one so he needed a little direction for his search.

“Um..” Sam started out, unsure himself of what exactly it was that you might bring or if you had even brought anything at all. “A… pacifier? Or maybe those… key– the plastic key things? The chewing things?”

“Teethers?” Dean asked while he attempted to decipher his brother’s inexperience while tugging out more clothes and a whole lot of nothing else and–teethers? Pacifiers? What? Sure he made the guess, it was his first thought! And it made sense with the context clues and the way you had been chewing on the remote and how your fingers are now in your mouth—! Man. He doesn't get this. But whatever, that doesn't matter. He's just gotta help Sammy because boy does he look like a fish out of water.

“Yeah! Teethers! They keep dirty remotes out of mouths and little baby fingers away from adult teeth. Don't they, baby?” Still trying to keep his voice light and gentle and half talking to you more than Dean, Sam begins tugging your fingers away from your mouth. Shushing your whines as said fingers catch on teeth that just didn't seem to understand that they could fix the issue by simply opening up your mouth a bit wider—

“There isn't anything in here for that. Are you sure you packed it?”

“Packed it? I only packed my bag!”

“Why wouldn't you pack a baby’s bag, idiot?”

“It was an adult’s bag at the time, not a baby’s, so I wasn't asked to, asshole!” Sam argues back, starting to rock and bounce you in an effort to distract you from your hand and their bickering. “So no I didn't pack any teethers or stuffed animals or diapers or—”

Dean’s head whipped up and his stomach dropped to the floor as they both seemed to come to the same realization. Frozen in place they had to pry their gazes away from each other’s to you as if expecting to find that you’d had an accident that very moment. Their eyes slowly, in comedic sibling tandem, drag down your frame resting on his hip.

You didn't.. look.. wet…? At least… not this moment you didn’t.

“Are…they.. necessary..?” Dean asks slow and hesitant, unsure if he was even allowed to ask or know about that kind of information about you. After all, he wanted to stay in the dark about some things! Out of respect! And because he really didn't need to know everything about his brother’s relationship– the same way Sammy didn't need to know everything about his!

“Uh..” Sam clears his throat, trying to remember if you'd ever used them around him before or perhaps mentioned whether you had a history with it or not… but all he knew is you wore them sometimes. That was a part of your before and after prep that he didn't have a hand in yet. He hadn't been given the rundown! No tutorial! But also.. he hadn't ever really asked about it. He was going to… eventually… It's just.. there were so many things he was getting used to with this and he was getting a bit overwhelmed with researching it—because who knew there were so many subgenres and conflicting information– and h-he just hadn't gotten to it all yet…

He looked back up at Dean, visibly tense and uncomfortable. “I dont… know…”

Eventually, after some bickering, Sam sent Dean to the store to pick up diapers. And whatever other supplies he would inevitably decide were “ultimately necessary for a baby’s survival.” Regardless of whether they actually were or if he was just grabbing stuff. But he couldn't complain too much since out of the two of them Dean did unarguably have more experience with kids. From raising his younger brother, to briefly having a family, and even the shapeshifter baby, his knowledge was one Sam was going to have to just appreciate and learn from. When he wasn't able to get direct understandable feedback from you anyway—the actual baby in question. Little coos and babbles didn't exactly help let him know if he should let you sit on his brother’s bed or his while he waited for Dean to come back with padding.

Leaning on the side of caution, he chose to lay you down on a towel he laid over Dean’s bed, something he's sure he’ll get an earful about later if you do pee.. but it would be better than if it was his bed. In the few moments he left you alone on the bed to grab one of his shirts off the floor, you’d mysteriously managed to make your second sock disappear into the wind and you’d tugged your current shirt over your head in an attempt to… suffocate yourself or something? He could only guess the reason. As he helped take off your shirt restraint he couldn't help but keep thinking; How were you doing that? You were so quick with it, it's like he couldn't take his eyes off you without another clothing issue arising.

Hopefully that would change after he changed your clothes. After folding your shirt and tucking it away in your bag he fights your squirming legs and ferocious little feet to get your pants off so he can check for any potential damage. Once you were down to your luckily dry underwear he helped you sit up, only to struggle getting your arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Considering you weren’t doing a whole lot of actual fighting against him, this task was surprisingly difficult for Sam.

With great effort he finally managed to slip his shirt over your head and down your torso. You flopped back on the bed, attempting to take a foot with you and whining when you couldn't bring it all the way to your mouth. The action made him laugh and lightened his mood since while you seemed to not be very aware of everything at the moment, not taking in how stressful everything was with the boys’ bickering, not having any supplies available, him not knowing specific and kind of necessary details, he was. He was taking in it all.

You weren't in the headspace to worry about any of that. You were too little. He was the one who had to worry about it and take care of it. He got to handle it. He was taking on the issues that… honestly? Really weren't even that big of a deal. A missing sock and getting your hair pulled by a baby were just things parents dealt with... and.. that's… what he was there for. Wasn't it..? It’s what you needed from him. To worry about things you were too small for and take care of them until you were able to again. And really.. no one’s lives were at stake right now. This wasn't a life or death or a monster hunt. It was just caring for you. Baby you.

Smiling down softly at you, you dropped your foot as you seemed to feel how he was looking at you differently. It was less worry and unease. He wasn't still deciding if he was uncomfortable with the situation or like he was afraid he might not be following the rules of a game right. He was simply content… content with enjoying your contentment. Even if you weren't in the headspace to soak in that information with as much acknowledgement as you would a different time, you could still feel the atmosphere change which left a growing smile on your face. Sam huffed out another small laugh seeing such a cute little look coming from you and couldn't resist leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It had finally clicked in his mind what kind of caregiver he was.

“Little angel..” he whispers softly, petting a big hand over your belly then combing your hair with his fingers to be a little less messy. “I got you. We’ll get you padded up and play a bit then we’ll set you up to take a nap. Since.. daddy can only guess the last time you slept well.”

He was yours.

He was your parent when you needed it.

He was there to take care of you and handle the little issues he could. Missing socks included.

The next few minutes waiting for Dean to come back were mostly quiet, only soft giggles combined with Sam’s little sweet words as he cooed at you as you played with anything he would let you. Which ended up being mainly his fingers and shirt sleeves… but he also let you play with his hair as long as you didn't tug too much.

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #🧸mines🍼#age regression #agere fandom #requests🧸✨#sam winchester #agere supernatural #supernatural #cg!sam winchester #little!reader #baby!reader #sfw babyre #babyre #fics #supernatural fanfiction #fandom agere #agere fanfic #all add more tags later when I have the brain power for it

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Seven: Better Together

a/n: here’s chapter seven of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering, and a whole lot of praise. (7k words)

masterlist

——

Life returns to normal after the gala. Or—mostly normal. You wake in the mornings, greet your husband as he sips his coffee, and you…don’t kiss. And it’s not like you don’t want to; in fact, you do. Really, really badly. One time isn’t enough. Suddenly you’re addicted to the taste of him, and yet you’ve only gotten the smallest hint. A tease at what could be.

When you returned to your home after the gala, Charlie greeted you both at the door with a bark and a demand for endless pets and cuddles. You’d curled up on the couch as always, you in your dress and him in his tuxedo, with Charlie sprawled out across both your laps.

Both of you had taken turns looking at one another when you’d thought the other wasn’t paying attention. Would watch Steve’s profile, count the dots on his skin, wonder if he’d lean in if you traced them with your mouth. Wondered what sound he’d make if you ventured further, southward against his neck, and trailed the marks you knew were there as well. And as you’d look down at Charlie, Steve would look at you, watching as though you were far more entertaining than any movie he’d put on.

Later that evening he’d stood by your doorway and thanked you for joining him that afternoon, leaned down and kissed your forehead, and you’d slipped into your bedroom and changed. When you returned, he remained at your bedroom door, mouth opened to speak to say something, anything, and yet no words had come out. Only the sounds of his struggle.

So you stepped forward and curled your arms around his waist. Thanked him for a beautiful night, for dancing with you, for being there for you. And then you’d closed your bedroom door and listened as Steve called Charlie into his bedroom, your own hand reaching over your bed side table to shut the lights off, enveloping the room in darkness.

It carried on like that for days.

Then weeks.

You wondered if Steve regretted it all.

——

Steve hated meetings. The endless meetings. Meetings that kept him away from home, away from comfortability, away from Charlie, away from you.

It’s a reality that crept upon him slowly, and then swiftly all at once. This realization that he’d rather jump and fall with you than never have taken a risk and jumped at all. Found himself willing to do all of that with you. Trusted you enough to be gentle with him, even despite all your teasing, your jabs, your barbs.

But now he wants to make sure you know just what this all means to him. Wants to make sure you don’t go a day without knowing that, even though his life is in a constant state of immediacy and pressure from those around him, you’re important. You’re deserving of feeling loved, appreciated, and valued every day.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Harrington,” Hailey, his assistant, asks from behind her computer screen.

“Can you have flowers sent to my address?”

There’s a knowing smile on her face as she asks, “For your wife?”

“For my wife,” he says, and though it’s been your title for months now, it makes his mouth run dry, because there’s the deeper meaning of possibly more now.

What exactly that more might be is still to be determined, but more nonetheless.

“Red roses are nice this time of year,” she muses. “Do you want me to have a card written out as well?”

——

Honey,

I’m sorry I’ve been so holed up with work. With the holidays coming up, things are extra chaotic. I know you’ve been really wanting a spa and nail day for yourself, so I made you an appointment for three tomorrow. Before you argue with me, you deserve it. Please. For me?

The card is signed at the bottom with ‘your husband,’ and you nearly crush the card stock to your chest, smiling down at the bouquet of fresh roses you’ve already set on your kitchen table.

Charlie lifts his head, collar jingling as he clambers to his feet and stops near your hip. Dropping down to your knees, you rub at his floppy ears, grin still stretching your lips.

“Charlie Boy, you really do have the best doggy dad.” He licks at your chin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you giggle airily. “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

——

By the time you return from your massage and nail appointment, and the private elevator leading to the penthouse dings, your home already smells wonderful. And the sight that greets you—even better.

Steve’s frantically running around the kitchen, calling out, “Honey, you’re early!”

“What is happening here?” You walk into the kitchen, a little mystified as Steve rushes forward and brushes a kiss along your temple, your hand coming up to rest on his sternum in wide eyed shock. He’s already set up the kitchen table, wine glasses filled with red wine, candles lit, placemats set out and the dishes you got from your bridal shower on display. “Flowers and dinner?”

“It was supposed to be ready by the time you got home. But Charlie was acting up on his walk. I looked into those puppy training classes, but I want to go to one where I can be there with him.” He pauses, laying the towel he has draped over his shoulder onto the countertop, pulling you into your normal hug whenever you come home from quite literally anywhere. “I thought…well, I know I’ve been busy, and we haven’t exactly had a chance to spend much time together. So I figured I’d make us dinner and we could eat it, you know, together.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, noting the hand that comes up behind his neck to rub nervously. “With candles?”

“So I thought it could also—but only if you want it to—be a…date?”

“We’re married,” you point out, wanting to watch him squirm just a little bit more. Because you know what he means.

“We are, yeah. But…I figured after the gala there were some tougher conversations we might need to have. Unless you wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, which in that case I understand—”

He’s silenced by your hand gliding up and across his chest, curling at the nape of his neck, and dragging him flush against you, lips gliding softly over his own. When you pull back, his eyes flutter rapidly, tops of his cheeks staining the same color of the fresh tomatoes he has open in a container on the kitchen counter.

Brow arching, your fingers still around the back of his neck, you ask, “Need further clarification?”

“Maybe?”

He swallows, curling an arm around the small of your back. He noses at your cheek, your skin prickling in anticipation as he slots his lips over yours again. Warm, gentle, inviting. A sigh spills from you as your pocketbook drops to the ground, your other hand joining the one around Steve’s neck, chests closing in tight, hips flush together.

“Steve…you made me dinner,” you muse, smiling as his forehead rests against yours, swaying you back and forth to the music he is playing from a speaker on the countertop.

The backs of his knuckles brush the line of your temple, your cheek. “I’ve made you dinner before.”

“But not like this. With all the wine and candles.”

“Well, I was trying to make a grand gesture.”

“Just like with my little spa day?” Your heart kicks up at that. Threatens to grow wings and fly away. Because he’s gone out of the way to do this. For you—for you.

“Yes,” he admits. “I’m—I haven’t done this in a long time. I had to ask my assistant for some tips, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.”

He’s laughing, but you know Steve. You know he means his words. Know enough about him to tell that when he makes a decision, he commits to it, wants to go above and beyond, and works his hardest at it. So when he says he wanted to make a grand gesture, that he even sought out outside advice, you know he’s sincere.

And you know whatever this is, whatever is brewing between the two of you, is delicate. It needs the space to grow, to be nurtured and tended to, if only so it can bloom into all it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be.

“Well, you’re doing amazingly,” you tell him, hands sliding down from the back of his neck to rest against his chest.

The rapid thump of his heart beats beneath your fingertips, not wholly unaffected by the newness of touch, of…whatever new shape your marriage is beginning to take on. His fingers slide over the back of yours, brushing over your knuckles, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that has your throat running dry.

That is, until Charlie notes your presence and barrels into the kitchen, paws slamming into your hip, demanding a proper hug. There to oblige him, you brush at his floppy ears, your side to Steve’s chest, one of his arms around you, the other also ruffling Charlie’s floppy head, pink puppy tongue lapping over unassuming fingers. Once the little guy is satisfied, you maneuver around Steve and tug your rings free from your finger, quickly washing your hands before sliding them back into place.

Steve watches you intently as you wiggle the stones into place on the digit, admiring them for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“If I’d known we were having dinner by candlelight, I’d have worn something a little nicer,” you tell him, waving a hand around your figure, to the pair of dark wash jeans on your thighs and the slouchy knit sweater that hangs a little loosely off of one shoulder. All gifts from your mother-in-law’s business.

He's still wearing his slacks, having had to go to a job site despite it being Saturday and your favorite powdery blue button up he wears. Brings out the greenness in his hazel eyes, a fact you only know because that spill you’d taken on the treadmill some weeks ago now, and the kiss at the gala, where you’d gazed into them long after he kissed you, marveling at the man.

“You look perfect,” he reassures you, gripping your shoulders and leading you into the living room. “Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes, so you kick your feet up, I already put out your slippers and some of your cozy socks you like. And give me one second and I’ll grab you your glass of water. Oh—and here’s a blanket.”

“Steve.” You laugh as your husband whirls around you like a storm, gathering all the things he mentions as he goes. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“No, no.” He rushes back over with your water and places it in your hand. “You just relax.”

And you’re not about to argue with your husband. Not when he looks like this, hair windswept, facial hair freshly trimmed, forearms on full display because he’s spent the better part of the afternoon preparing a home cooked meal for you. For your date night.

True to his word, your meal is ready a half hour later, his form appearing before you, one hand outstretched for you to take. He helps you to your feet, making room for you at his side, and walks you the distance to your kitchen table. He’s dimmed the lights a bit more, the candle on the table bathing the room in an orange firelight. The man in question slides your chair out and gestures for you to sit despite your protesting, and pushes you in closer to the table once you’ve sat.

He then rushes around to the other side of the table and sits across from you, gesturing to the various things he has strewn about on the table.

Your bowls are already full of fresh spaghetti, sauce just the way you prefer. There are meatballs in one glass container, and cheese in another bowl beside. He’s even made garlic bread, which rests in a little basket you’d received for your bridal shower. Everything smells delicious, makes your mouth water as you lift your wine glass and raise it in the air, waiting for Steve to clink his glass against yours.

“This all looks and smells so amazing, Steve. Seriously.”

Grateful. You’re immensely grateful as the two of you start to dig into your meals, quiet chatter about your days shared over glasses of wine, spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. He talks about the newest build on a property, and you explain your week of clinicals ahead, and the desire for your Thanksgiving break to finally approach so you can have some real time to simply relax and just be.

“That reminds me,” he begins, sipping his water. “My mom is doing Thanksgiving at her house this year. It’ll be a small event. Just my grandmother and Theobald, Cami and their kids. Unless we wanted to go back to Hawkins? It’s really up to you…I haven’t told my mom our plans.”

“My dad and Caroline are actually going to spend the weekend with my grandmother. I figured we would be doing something with your family, so I told my dad we’d be around for the holidays at some point—if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” he says, brushing his fingers over yours where they lay interlaced in the middle of the table. “Splitting the holidays. That was easy enough.”

“We’re getting good at this, Harrington,” you tease.

“That was my next…topic of conversation.” The status of your relationship. The questions as to what this is and isn’t. The decisions of where you go from here.

“Right.” You place your fork down against your bowl, swallowing thickly. “So there was the gala.”

“That happened.” His fingers brush yours again, a comforting sweep. Back and forth, back and forth, like a sweet little metronome. “So I guess the question is…what do we want it to mean? Because I want to start by making it clear to you that I do, uh, have feelings for you.”

Chest tightening, you grip his fingers tighter, feeling the corners of your smile tick upwards. “I have feelings for you too. So…now that we have that out of the way…”

“I want to do more of this. Buying you flowers and going out together alone. On real dates. No business obligations attached. Just spending time with you, getting to know you, exploring this.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to do this,” he says, squeezing your fingers. Then, he leans over the top of the table to brush your lips briefly with his mouth. “And that, if you’d like to.”

Your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m…very open to all of that.”

“We don’t complicate it with more labels.”

“We just let things happen the way they’re meant to.”

Let the pieces fall where they may. Without the pressure of placing any expectation on it. Exploring the parameters of your relationship while legally married, knowing either way at the end of it all you can go your separate ways. It’s a terrifying risk, but you know in your heart it’s worth it to at least try.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds like a deal, Mr. Harrington. We should shake on it.” He holds out his hand between the two of you jokingly, but you’re leaning in once more, breath teasing along his lower lip, and he knows you’re not interested in sealing this deal with a mere handshake. Instead, you seal it with a kiss, resting in the warmth of his skin against your own.

A little breathless when he pulls away, Steve whispers, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Harrington.”

——

You’re no expert on Steve Harrington. Not by any means, even after the five months you’ve now been married. Since the moment you decide to begin a real relationship, you start to really explore the intricacies of your husband. He’s a morning person, he likes things a certain way, and he can tend to get flustered easily—though he won’t let it show. You can still sense it in the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw. And today, as you sit on your living room couch with Charlie’s head resting on your thigh, and a book on the other, you sense it in the way he walks into your home with a hollow stare.

The way he buries his face in Charlie’s neck as he enters the living room and the puppy knocks him onto the ground. The way his eyes are red rimmed as he finally extricates himself from the flailing set of paws on the ground and makes his way over to where you sit, kissing you in greeting. Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tilting his head to look at him—to really look at him. His cheeks are damp, and your heart nearly cracks down the center at the implication there.

Briefly, you imagine your husband’s forearms straining as he grips the steering wheel in his car. Imagine the tears he must have hid in his car before coming up to see you. Because he hadn’t wanted you to see. Not really. Always so bright and loving, always so strong for you.

“Steve?” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s turning his head from you, his breath a shaky inhale as he tips his head to the ceiling. “Are you—”

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. Long day, I just want to get to bed early. Rain check on our movie?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, frown growing. “Sure.”

He’s gone. Disappears from the room without another word, leaving you in the solitude of the unknowing. The wondering if he’s okay, what he’s thinking, if there’s anything you can do to help improve his mood. With the click of his bedroom door in the distance, you try to focus on your book, on the television playing in the background, on Charlie’s breathing. But the longer you go without him, the more you fret. Wanting to be near him, if only to be there as a presence, as something who cares for the brooding man down the hall.

Resolve settling into place, you toss your things into the kitchen sink and make your way down the hall, gather some clothes to change into for bed, and pause when you arrive in front of Steve’s bedroom. Nervous knuckles hover over the doorway, knocking twice—and then linger. Wait as silence drapes over the room, leaving your heart to race within your chest.

“Steve…?” You call out his name into the silence, voice a little wobbly. Nervousness ebbs and flows as the silence prolongs. As you’re met with nothing but your own breathing to keep you company.

And then, very quietly, “Yeah, baby?”

The newness of the title sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You push it away, wanting more so right now to comfort the man inside than anything else. Fingers curl around the door handle, pushing it open just enough to see the man laying there in a pair of sweatpants, room chilly from the central air, bare chest on display. His hair is in disarray, face freshly washed, hair still damp from his shower. There’s the slightest hint of his vanilla shampoo in the air, a comforting sugary sweetness synonymous with your husband.

“Can I…can I come in?” The door opens a little wider, leaving room for Charlie to prance on in, settling himself on the doggy bed in the far corner of the spacious room.

Steve lets out a long sigh, fingers curled around his phone moving to place the device on his bedside table. He slides his glasses off his face next, popping them into his glasses container, before settling back down against the fluffy pillows and offering you the slightest hint of a smile.

“Sure,” he says, a little softly, a little strained.

Heart dropping into your stomach, you glance down at the small heap of clothes in your hand, and then to the adjoined bathroom. “Do you mind if I—”

Processing your question, he shakes his head, seemingly a little faraway from you. “No, yeah. Please.”

Without another word, you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. A long exhale spills from your lips. Dressing quickly, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Thin sweatpants, a comfortable hoodie, face freshly washed and dried. Satisfied, you toss your clothes into the nearby hamper and slip out of the bathroom, wandering over to the side of the bed. Brows raising imploringly, Steve lifts the edge of the comforter in answer, allowing you to crawl into the space he’s created with his body.

You choose the pillow beside him. Close enough where you can feel his heat, can run your fingers along the side of his body if you wish, could lace your fingers through his. But you’re not crossing the proverbial pillow wall unless he gives permission to do so. As much as you want to.

“Did something happen at work?” you ask him, smiling as his hand reaches over and brushes along the back of your forearm.

“Just the usual. People think I’m…too young to really know what I’m talking about. Anything that goes wrong is thrown at me, and I get those looks of disappointment. And I just think if only my dad were here. If only he were here, I’d know what to do. But I don’t. I don’t and then Theo looks at me like he’s so happy to see me fucking it all up. Because that will have meant he was right.”

“That he was right?” Your head shifts on the pillow, eyes flickering up to his as he angled his head a bit and takes in the sight of your face in the dimly lit bedroom.

Shifting, he rolls over onto his side, head resting on the pillow mere inches from yours. His hands settle beside yours, his fingers brushing along the backs of yours, gently lacing them together after a moment, squeezing tight. “That I’m not ready. That I wasn’t ready. That the company should have gone to him.”

“But that’s not true, Steve. You’re a hard worker. I know you are. You sacrifice so much for everyone, even me, and they have to see all of that. They have to. No one is perfect—not all the time, anyway.” He leans into your touch, your free hand having come up in the middle of your speech to rest over the stubbly cheek of your husband.

“Thank you,” he whispers, turning just enough to press a kiss into the center of your palm. Your skin tingles in answer, smile warming your cheeks.

“Always, Steve. Always. You’re there for me, I’m there for you. It’s an even exchange.”

“You know, Theo hates me because he spent years training under my father. He spent all that time thinking the company would be going to him one day. And…I honestly thought that, too. I was shocked when I saw my name.” He pauses, mouth flattening into a straight line. Your thumb glides over his stubbly cheek once more, encouraging him to continue. “The company should have gone to him. But it didn’t. So I thought maybe my dad saw something in me that I didn’t. But every time I fuck it all up, I can just picture the face he always made when I did something wrong, and I always hated when he looked at me like that.”

“When he looked at you like what?”

“Like I was a disappointment.”

And there it is. The words that immediately wedge a knife into your heart for him. The thought of a younger Steve, wanting his father to see him for him. Not for what he could do for the company, not what he lacked, but merely for being his son. The youngest Harrington. A child to a man who expected so much of him. Placed him on a pedestal he’d never been meant to stand on, only to watch him fail time and time again in the eyes of someone who never would be happy. Not really.

“You are not a disappointment.” The vehemence in your voice shocks you. But the anger brimming in your blood is not for the man lying beside you. No, it’s for the man who no longer resides on this side of earth, and yet has engraved years of doubt within your husband’s heart.

“You’re biased.” He sighs, breaking off into a laugh. At the quick shake of your head, he continues, “It’s silly, maybe, but I thought maybe if I could just do right by the company, my father would finally be proud of me from wherever he is now.”

“Steve…” Your body burrows closer to his, sighing as an arm slides low along your waist. Pulls you closer. Close enough where you can wrap your arms around him and press your cheek into his collarbone.

He exhales deeply. “We never had a close relationship. My parents were a bit older when they had me. His form of love was a stern yell when I got a C in class instead of an A. Or pointing out every bad swing in baseball, because ‘Harrington’s are winners.’ It was only when I got older we talked more, and I think that was more so because once I was old enough to, he expected me to work for him. So I was more a worker than a son.”

“You just wanted him to notice you.” And that breaks your heart. Makes your eyes burn in a way that has you sniffing loudly.

“Silly, right?” His chest shakes with the rasp in his voice, and you grant him the privacy of his emotions, keeping your face pressed tight against his chest as he heaves with the weight of it all.

“Not at all. You shouldn’t have ever had to fight for his love. No child should. You’re his son. That should mean everything. I’m so sorry.”

“My mom and I really only got closer when he passed. I think she realized I’m really all she has left. And I wanted to resent her for it, be mad that it took him dying for her to notice me, you know? But I couldn’t.”

Sighing, you run your hands up and down the lines of his hard back, smiling to yourself when he relaxes further into your embrace. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be loved by the people who should love you the most.” Leaning back a bit to look in his eyes, you catch the softness there. Note the way his eyes flicker from your eyes and downward to your lips, then drift back up again. “We crave it as humans. And you have such a big heart, Steve. I’m not surprised you were able to be open to her, even after all the years of hurt you must have experienced.”

Huffing, he leans his forehead against yours. “You’re being too nice.”

“I am nice, Steve. I’m only partially serious when I joke about killing you in your sleep.”

That has him smiling. And though it’s only been gone a little while, you’ve missed it dearly.

His next question has you stilling within his arms. “Will you…stay?”

“In your bed? With you?”

“No, with your other husband.” He chuckles, shifting you so you sprawl out onto his blankets beneath him, giggling as his nose nudges yours.

“I have another husband?” you ask, just as his lips ever so softly coast over yours, breaking off at the first wiggle of his fingers along the span of your ribcage. Like this, you wriggle and writhe beneath him. Like this, you feel every inch of him along every inch of you. Hard lines against your softer ones. His hips against yours, his lips at your shoulder, your sides jolting with your laughter, limbs kicking out wildly to try and stop him. “Stop, stop—yes! But no pillow wall like in the Maldives.”

He leans down, and you reach up enough to kiss him. “No pillow wall. I might cuddle you, if that’s okay?”

“I'm kind of hoping you do,” you tease, rolling over onto your side as he reaches over and shuts the light, shrouding you both in impenetrable darkness.

Steve settles in beside you. Unlike in the Maldives, he doesn’t begin stacking an endless row of pillows to create a divider. No, this time he comes in close, his chest along your back. Arms looping tight around your waist, pulling you in as close as possible. Legs tangle together beneath bed sheets, fingers twine over where they rest along your midsection.

It’s quiet for a time. And then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lets you know he’s awake with a kiss at your shoulder.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, you whisper. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, and I know that might not count for much, but I am so proud of you.”

“No. No. That does mean a lot.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s another pause. Then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I'm tired.” He practically moans it in your ear, face pressing into your neck. Your cheeks warm from the proximity.

“Guess no kiss before bed then.” A pout lines your lips, though you know he cannot see it.

“Fine, fine, fine I’m up.”

“Nope, now I’m tired,” you sigh, nuzzling deeper into the endless pillows on your husband’s bed.

“Get over here.” He grunts, shifting up onto his elbows. There’s barely a moment to argue, for his fingers curl around the base of your cheek and bring your face closer to his.

His mouth is warm, welcoming, and lovely before bed, you decide, eyes fluttering closed.

“Mmm,” you hum, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile as he flops back over onto his side and makes himself comfortable once more.

“Goodnight,” he says, and you can feel his smile against the curve of your jaw.

“Goodnight.”

——

With Thanksgiving about a week away, your husband becomes nearly nonexistent. He’s there, in your home, but only in the early mornings and late at night when you’re already about to fall asleep in his bed.

His bed, because that’s where you've slept for the past however many days have passed since the first time. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you. Be it drawing comfort in one another, wanting the nearness of another human, or just purely wanting to be held—you don’t argue.

In fact, you quite like waking up in his arms. Two people who fold themselves so tight around one another in their sleep. Bodies that seek comfort and warmth, crave it, and hold it close.

But that’s truly the only time you’ve seen him as of late. Those fleeting moments when he kisses you while you’re still in bed in the morning, and then at night just as he’s about to shut the light out for the night.

Which is why when you find him sitting in his office before work one morning, his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, you decide to take matters into your own hands to spend time with the man. Upon clearing your throat, his head tips up, eyes catching on the long tee shirt that covers your cotton shorts beneath. The hem line brushes the tops of your thighs with every step closer to him, hinting at skin that lingers beneath, coaxing him backward in his chair. His glasses are a flash of gold in the light as you clamber down onto his lap, resting your hands on his biceps, beaming down at him.

“Hi,” you whisper, biting at your bottom lip.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumbing at the curve of your hips, pads of his fingers against delicate flesh.

“Been working long?”

“Few hours, yeah,” he grumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead into his neck. The fingers on your hips slide up your back, trailing up and down gently, eliciting chills along your frame. “Sorry if I woke you.”

His head shifts, mouth teasing at the curve of your throat, lips tilting upward into a smirk at the little sigh that spills out on his own volition from your lips. Curious hands trail down your back, sliding over the curve of your thigh, the hinge of your hip, the soft of your tummy. Another sigh fills the quiet room, and those fingers tease at the edge of your ribcage, the sides of your waist, the curve of your sports bra.

“You’re being sneaky,” he says, breath hot against your ear, fingers spread over the dip of your waist. At your questioning hum, he chuckles, “Distracting me from work.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” you huff out, leaning back in his arms, fingers toying with the hem of his thin sweater he’d fallen asleep in. “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you went to work. Come on now, let me get some coffee for you before you go into the office, Mr. Harrington.”

His eyes roll at your teasing nickname, hand curling around your own as you rise from his lap and lead him out of the office. As you enter the kitchen, Charlie’s sleepy head raises from his paws, before he plops back down in a sleepy heap, legs and paws splayed out in front of him.

Steve remains nearby as you get to work on making your coffees, slipping in and out of the living room just long enough to gather some of the things he’ll need for his work day. Yours iced, caramel drizzled on the inside of the cup in preparation, and Steve’s ‘Dog Dad’ mug laid out on the counter (a gift you’d gotten him as a joke, but he loved it so much he kept it and insisted on using it every morning).

You catch him slipping on a button down shirt out of the corner of your eye, his necktie already hanging limply around his shoulders. Noting his struggle, you wander over to stand in front of him, grappling with the fabric, stilling him in his movements.

His forehead brushes yours, your voice quiet as you say, “You feeling okay? You’re feeling a little warm.”

“Just tired,” he says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Just a couple more days and then I’ll have some time off.”

“Let me?” you ask, fingers winding in the tie.

He dips his head, watching you with those dark eyes as you maneuver the fabric around, twining this way and that, before pulling it flush against his throat. His neck bobs as you linger there, holding him nearer to you, tugging teasingly. He leans down, breath skittering across your lips as he asks for your permission.

In answering, you tug onto the tie and pull him down to you, your backside thumping against the kitchen counters as he crowds you against them, hands on your hips, gripping tight. Hot. Fervent and heated is his mouth as he claims your lips in the middle of your kitchen, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, tongue gliding across your bottom lip until you part for him with a pretty sigh.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips and teeth coasting down your cheek, along your neck, against your shoulder as you hop up onto the kitchen counter with his help, ankles curling around his waist to pull him flush against your center. “Baby…I have to…I should…”

But he’s gripping your thigh. Sliding it further open so he can press himself closer, fingers trailing along bare skin, eliciting shivers in their wake. Up and down, up and down, he trails them. Watches your face the whole time, catches the pinch of your bottom lip between your teeth, the whimper you let out as those fingers roam dangerously close to where you ache for him to touch.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. Breathes the words along the hollow of your ear. Presses a kiss below it a moment later as you nod, nearly bucking into his hand as his fingers toy with the hemline of your shorts, then along the cotton panties. “Honey, I need your words. Do you want me to touch you?” Another kiss, this time along the curve of your neck, tongue lathing sensitive skin. Heat burns low in your belly; throbs lower still, where you can already feel yourself embarrassingly wet for the man. “Want my fingers, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

His eyes are molten as they meet yours. Liquified honey and caramel as you nod, his lips swallowing your moan at the first slide of his fingers through your slick center. “Steve…ah…work,” you pant, eyes halting on the clock staring at you across the way, and then dropping down to the forearm you’re presently clutching tight, watching the muscles there ripple as he circles your clit, testing your reactions, learning what you like. And he’s an expert, and you want to go back in time and erase every other partner who may have come before in a momentary burst of jealousy, before catching on his ringed finger where it lays against your other thigh, holding fast.

“You're gonna be a good girl and come for me then so I’m not late?” he asks, groaning into your open mouth as you tug him closer by his necktie, hips rolling against his fingers as one slips in, before quickly being joined by another. “Fuck. Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me.”

It’s almost obscene, the sounds he draws out of you. The squelch of your slick where he pumps his fingers between your thighs, the harsh staccato of your breath as you inch closer and closer to your tipping point—like he’s been doing this for years. Like he’s known all along exactly what it takes to have you falling apart, crying out his name. And that’s exactly what you do, inner walls clenching down around his fingers as your thighs tremble low around his hips, his left hand curling around the back of your head to claim your mouth as you whimper into his skin, chanting his name like a mantra—like a prayer.

“I hate you.” You don’t. Not when he looks at you the way he is looking at you now. Watching your chest rise and fall, eyes on yours, tongue swirling around his slick digits. “Fuck. So much.”

“I’m sure you do,” he practically sing-songs, sliding your panties back into your place, followed by your shorts. Draws you closer to the edge of your kitchen counters, hands on the swell of your hips. He noses along your cheek, kissing you softly this time. “As much as I want to stay here, and I really really want to stay here, I have a very important meeting this morning.”

“Boo,” you whine, ear resting over his chest where you can hear his heart thrashing wildly behind his sternum.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, dropping a kiss on your lips as you lean your head back and look up at him through your lashes. “Send me pictures of Charlie?”

“I will,” you laugh brightly, watching out of the corner of your eye as your fur child lifts his head at the mere mention of his name. “Although I’m pretty sure you already have about a million of them by now. Are you sure you have to go?”

He kisses your pout, chuckling softly. “Yes. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. You’re so beautiful.”

A smile grows on your lips as his fingers run along your cheek, eyes on you, marveling. Never before have you felt so singularly the focus on a partner’s mind. The way Steve looks now…with reverence and appreciation that makes your heart soar…there’s nothing like it. You want to bottle it up, stow it away, keep it safe from the rest of the world. Keep it here, within the walls of your home, where it’s only you, him and Charlie. Your little makeshift family, but the one you both chose.

So you allow him to help you down off the countertops and onto the floor below, your still-trembling thighs groaning beneath you as your cheeks burn hot. He drops a final kiss down onto the crown of your head and squeezes your shoulder tight, snatching his phone from where it’s resting behind you. Sliding it into his pocket, he calls Charlie’s name and hugs the excited puppy once before stepping into the elevator and reassuring you once more he’ll text you just as the doors slide shut.

He makes it about two minutes before your phone pings. His text illuminates on the screen, the message liquifying your insides all over again.

Husband: You coming like that on my fingers is going to be the only thing I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the day, I’ll have you know.

Your stomach tumbles and swoops low in your belly as you type out your reply.

You: Hurry back soon because I’m already thinking of how I’m planning on returning the favor. I know that’s all I’ll be thinking about until you get home.

He types and stops.

Types and stops again.

A wicked grin curls your lips.

And finally.

Husband: You’re cruel.

You: See you later, handsome.

You: xoxo.

——

please please as always let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #modern!steve harrington

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gothamite-rambler · 20 days ago

Text

"You like me?" Harley asked happy.

As Harley Quinn and Artemis strolled through the bustling streets, chatting carrying food in bags—their current mission: bringing back lunch for the team.

Artemis: Quick question, Harley—did you get that pale face and wide grin from being pushed into toxic sludge, or is that just your natural look?

Harley: Oh, it’s a lil bit of both! I had fair skin before, turned all porcelain from the toxins, but the smile? Totally natural! Back in school, the kids used to call me “Cheshire,” like the cat. That stopped once I knocked out the main bully. I think the smile suits me now.

Artemis (genuinely): It really does. You remind me of a cute little jester. And I must say, it’s impressive how you can keep that smile for minutes without blinking!

Harley: Aw, thanks!

Artemis: No problem. And your new outfit is working wonders for you too—red jeans and that cute red-and-blue crop top—very nice choice.

Harley glanced down at her outfit, trying jeans for a change instead of her usual shorts. While the fit felt a bit uncomfortable due to chafing, she hadn’t received many compliments yet.

Harley (flustered): Oh, wow, I wasn’t expectin' a compliment. Not sure how to take that.

Artemis (shrugging with a smile): We’re friends, remember? I’m gonna be nice to you.

Harley (surprised): We’re friends?

Artemis (reassuringly): Of course! You’re on the team now. You’re funny, helpful, and a skilled fighter. Jason might have his reservations about you—understandable and Roy gets mad whenever you mention his past drug issues— keep bringing those up! I love when his face turns as red as his hair. But honestly? I really like you. You’ve built a good character with me. Bizarro and I are on your side.

Harley (beaming): The big guy likes me too?

Artemis: Yep. When he says he hates your shoes, he actually loves them. He talks in opposite speak.

Harley bounced on in her sneakers, beaming with joy.

Harley: Awesome! I got 'em at Marshalls!

Artemis: They’re stylish! Perfect for long walks. But don’t stress about Jason. He takes time to warm up to people. Just keep being yourself.

Harley: I’m tryin'! I actually got him a book. Tim sent me his Amazon wish list, and I snagged this one.

With a flourish, Harley pulled out a Jane Austen book titled Northanger Abbey from her pocket.

Harley: It was sold out on Amazon, so I had to check eBay. This thing was pricey! Turns out this Austen lady is quite popular.

Artemis (chuckling): Oh, she definitely is. Let’s take it to him so we can tease him a bit.

Harley: You guys do that too? I love that dynamic!

Artemis: And I really enjoy your energy and how resilient you are when it comes to not giving up on people. Just don’t analyze me too much, alright? I know I’ve got my own issues.

Harley nodded, laughing lightly.

Harley: It’s hard to turn it off sometimes, but I’ll save the analysis for later. Thanks for the compliment, Artemis! Usually, I’m called stubborn and told I can't take no for an answer. Resilience? That’s a new one for me.

Artemis: Well, it was either that or "tenacious." Speaking of which, I’m curious about something else I heard—does Ivy use her powers to—

Harley: Oh, absolutely!

Artemis laughed softly, wrapping an arm around Harley's shoulders as they headed back to the team, their camaraderie growing stronger with each shared moment.

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jishyucks · 1 year ago

Text

When the Stars Align — njm

‣ pairing: guard!Jaemin x princess!reader

‣ genre: fluff, royal!au, friends-to-lovers

‣ wc: 2.2k

‣ summary: ❝The stars may seem unreachable, but they have a way of surprising us sometimes❞; In which Jaemin believes that his wish on the stars is absurd

‣ warnings?: nothing basically, long paragraphs near the end

‣ an: the two songs goodbye. I wasn’t going to add songs but I’ll just keep them there,, anywaysss I wrote this really quick bc I wanted to post something so it might not be my best,, but I honestly still think it’s cute (●'◡'●) also pls ignore the whack title pic for this I might change it later,,, pls enjoy!

‣ tags: @mosviqu @flowerjun

[Songs] A Starry Night in Apollo Bay — RINI | I See the Light — Tangled

Every night that Jaemin was on duty, he always made a single wish upon both the stars that continued to twinkle and those that had long faded away.

His wish wasn’t special, nor was it ordinary—he simply wished for there to be a shift in the stars, one that only he could recognize.

It started out as a joke he made to himself, a way to alleviate the monotony of gazing at the same sky night after night. Sure, the sky was undeniably beautiful, but when he initially made the wish, he was hoping he’d see something different, like a planet with more prominence, maybe a shooting star, or perhaps even a supermoon.

However, everything changed when he met you by chance one evening. His wish took on a different significance—that maybe the stars would align themselves in such a way that your feelings would mirror his own.

If that was even possible, Jaemin scoffed at his own thought. He was nothing but a guard. A junior guard at that. Why would someone like you, the princess, consider him in that way when you had your pick of suitors at your beck and call?

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth turn downward at the thought. It wasn’t the hardest thought to swallow, but it still hurt nonetheless. These were his own emotions, ones that he shouldn’t have even developed in the first place. Yet here he was, wallowing in the fact that you might only see him as a friend.

As he let his head fall back, Jaemin gazed up at the night sky he had practically befriended. The constellations were like old friends, ones he knew almost as well as he knew himself.

It was peaceful outside of the castle. In fact, it was so peaceful that he almost forgot that there were people inside of the building celebrating the Queen’s birthday. If he listened carefully, he could hear the music being played. But other than that, it truly doesn’t seem like a party was happening at all.

With his eyes closed, Jaemin readied himself to make the same wish he had been making for the past year, clearing his mind until only the wish and thoughts of you occupied it.

I wish that—

“Are you sleeping standing up?”

Jaemin’s wish is interrupted by the sound of your voice. He turns to find you, standing in the dress you personally chose for the occasion. He remembers you going on about it a few weeks ago, stuck choosing between dark and pastels.

The word beautiful was the first thing that entered Jaemin’s mind. You looked beautiful. So beautiful that you made Jaemin’s breath hitch at the back of his throat. But he quickly rids that thought.

“Y/N,” he counters, “What are you doing out here?”

Jaemin hopes you don’t hear the way his heart is pounding against his rib cage. And if you do, he hopes you mistake it for the music playing inside.

“I wanted to get some air,” you shrug nonchalantly, “And I wanted to see you.” You find a nice clean spot on the steps leading down and onto the long driveway before sitting down. You turn to Jaemin expectantly, but when he doesn’t quite get your signal, you gesture for him to join you, “Come sit.”

“I can’t,” Jaemin frowns, “I’m on duty.”

You mirror his expression, but you add furrowed brows, “This is an order.”

Jaemin huffs. Despite it being his job to serve your family, he hates it when you use your position to coax him into situations like this. He hesitantly makes his way over to you. Sitting down just a few inches away from you. He's unsure of how to position himself, his body sitting up stiff and straight beside yours.

Turning to look at Jaemin and seeing the way he’s quite literally sitting like he has a stick shoved up his ass, you can’t help but laugh. Shuffling over, you elbow him on the side, “Hey, relax a little bit.”

He lets out another deep sigh, but he nods and allows himself to drop his shoulders. Jaemin honestly had no idea why he was being so self-conscious right now. He wasn’t usually like this. But maybe it was because you basically caught him making a wish that was about you.

Jaemin tries to shake the nerves out of his system. “It’s the Queen’s birthday, you should be inside.”

Your face contorts into an unreadable expression. You shake your head and groan, “As much as I love my mom, I hate being surrounded by all those people.”

“Those people?” Jaemin prompts.

“The wealthy, the royals, the people who hold titles they don’t deserve,” you list under your breath. Jaemin hums, “Aren’t you royalty?”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, but I’m not insane like a majority of them, and you of all people should know that.” You straighten your legs so that they’re stretched out in front of you. Jaemin does the same.

“Fair point.” Jaemin completely understands. From the conversations he’s overheard, the Queen strongly dislikes half the people she even invited, but had no choice due to their title, “But you really would rather be out here than in there?”

Jaemin knows damn well that you’re an extrovert and somebody who actually likes big celebrations like the one happening today.

You nod, “You’re out here so… yes.”

Jaemin tries to pay no mind to what you just said because he knows there’s absolutely no way that there’s any other meaning to it. Obviously you’d be bored without him… you two were each other’s best friend. Jaemin can only imagine having to attend a big party without a friend.

“What?” A stupid response, but Jaemin genuinely did not know how to respond to that. He looks over at you in anticipation of a response. He can see your eyes moving back and forth, trying to dig out a reply that would make sense.

“I would… honestly want to be wherever you are, Jaemin-ie.” You reach over to poke his shoulder, “I can really be myself with you.” You try to make it sound not as serious as it actually was. This was basically a platonic confession, something that you’ve never told him before.

Jaemin’s still in denial that you actually prefer being with him. He doesn’t see himself as anything special, so why do you seem to genuinely like his company?

“But… you belong inside with all those people,” Jaemin starts, “Not because you’re similar to them, because like you said a lot of them are snobs… but… you’re a princess, Y/N. You’re next in line to rule this place! And… ”

You know where he’s trying to get at despite his lack of words. “Who’s to say where I belong besides me… I like it out here!” you declare confidently. Then you pause and tap your heels against the pavement beneath your feet, “What if I belong out here, and with you?”

The question hangs in the air and Jaemin can’t quite piece together what you’re implying. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, “Y-you’re just saying nonsense at this point… Are you drunk?” Jaemin leans over to look you in the eye as if this would confirm his suspicions.

You laugh, pushing him away, and confess, “I’m a little tipsy. But! But I’m sober enough to know what I’m saying.”

Jaemin narrows his eyes. “Yeah, sure you are.”

And your eyes do the opposite, widening until your eyeballs are bulging out of their sockets, “I am!” You gently hit his shoulder, “I’m sober! I barely drank. Did I seem drunk when I came out?”

Pressing his lips into a taut line, Jaemin thinks of a way to prove that what you were saying was because you were intoxicated. He can’t process your last question—and with you?—what was that supposed to mean?

“Walk in a straight line for me right now.”

Knowing that Jaemin’s not going to stop until you prove that you’re sober, you groan and stand up, making your way to the edge of a stair. You prepare yourself, lining your feet one in front of the other and hiking up the skirt of your dress to make them visible to Jaemin. With ease, you walk in the straightest line you’ve ever walked, “See? I’m sober.”

Jaemin has no other choice but to believe you, “But what about—”

“Are you not listening to me?” you huff, cutting Jaemin off before he can complete his sentence. You can already anticipate what he's about to say. “I can’t stand any of them!” You make your way back to Jaemin and settle down in your previous spot. He observes your actions, waiting for you to provide more context before he can respond.

“You know… that feeling when you’ve been underwater for too long? The pressure building up in your head?”

Jaemin nods, “Yes.”

“Well…” you continue, “Being with you is like… finally being able to float back up to the surface to breathe.” Then you add, “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive without you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s heart is knocking against his ribcage. Are you saying…

“Would it be ridiculous if I said I have feelings for you?”

Jaemin’s afraid to turn and look at you. He can feel your heavy gaze resting comfortably on his cheekbone. Your eyes trace his side profile, and he can sense the tension building in the silence as you wait for his response to your impulsive confession. Your palms grow sweaty while you wait for his answer to your impulsive confession.

“Me?” Another stupid response.

“You.”

Jaemin shakes his head, clearly in disbelief. “But—”

"Jaemin," you stop him, frustration creeping into your tone, "Are you going to keep questioning my feelings instead of giving me a real reply?" Your impatience is evident, and you're looking for a genuine response from him.

Jaemin picks at his cuticles and lets himself word his reply properly. You give him time, but the more time Jaemin spends on formulating an answer, the greater your anxiety grows. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Jaemin. What if your impulsiveness did just that?

After what felt like forever, Jaemin finally speaks up, “On nights like these, I talk to the moon about you to pass time…” Jaemin keeps his eyes trained at his feet, his voice filled with vulnerability. “And to the stars… I’ve been… wishing on every single one of them… that maybe you’d like me back simply because it seemed so impossible.” He swallows hard before finally turning to look at you, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Do you know why I thought that?"

You shake your head.

"Y/N, you can have anyone, and I'm not even exaggerating!" He exclaims, "The number of suitors I've seen prance into the castle, all hoping to win your hand in marriage or even just one date down in the city? It's countless… And imagine my thoughts when you rejected all of them. I believed I had no chance with you because you rejected all these men that seemed to suit you perfectly…”

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his emotions. Jaemin continues, “When I started developing these feelings for you, I told myself to never get my hopes up because I’m just one junior guard and you’re a princess…” Jaemin sucks air through pursed lips and lets his head fall forward.

“That’s why I keep questioning your feelings, Y/N,” He concludes, “I know I shouldn’t even be doing so because you’re your own person, but it’s so hard for me to believe this is real. That your feelings are real…” With one final look at you, Jaemin finally gives you his response, “So to answer your question—yes, it’s ridiculous, but it’s ridiculous to me and not in the way you think it is.”

You nod, his answer bittersweet, “It’s like the stars you’ve been wishing on.”

Jaemin’s ears perk up, “Hmm?”

“They may seem unreachable, but they have a way of surprising us sometimes,” you snort. You let your head fall back to gaze up at the stars, the brighter ones catching your attention. "Jaemin," you continue, your voice filled with sincerity, "I really do like you. I want you to know that."

Jaemin's heart races at your words, his entire body warming with reassurance and anticipation. Acting on impulse, he gently reaches over to hold your hand. It’s not the first time he’s held your hand, but this time feels different. “I… really like you too, princess.” Your hand tightens around his, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the night air engulf the both of you.

As Jaemin tilts his chin up for the second time tonight, his eyes finally catch a proper sight of the constellations he’s wished upon for who knows how long. He can name a few—the Dippers, and if he looks off to the side he can see Orion and Taurus.

All of it feels achingly familiar to Jaemin... yet tonight, there was something about the sky that set it apart from the others. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, nor if a change truly had occurred—he can just feel it.

But with your hand nestled in his, and your synchronizing heartbeats, Jaemin honestly couldn’t care less what the change was.

Because, somehow, it feels as if the heavens have shifted.

As if the stars have granted his wishes.

That you reciprocated his feelings.

And, at this moment, that's all that truly mattered to him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Thank you for reading!! (^ᗜ^ ) Pls support my writing by liking/rbing (whatever you're most comfortable with!) Hope this made u feel something hehehehe

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bokutosbabe · 1 year ago

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Oh please, can I request the first time s/o rubs her nose against tecchou’s nose?

You don’t have an idea how I love tecchou’s fluff, like, everyone agrees he’s the most affectionate guy😭how I love my baby

AAHFSHSHSVSV I LOVE TECCHOU SM THIS IS SO CUTE. i had a pretty bad mental health week recently so i’m sorry for not finishing this earlier!!

nose to nose–

tecchou suehiro x gn! reader

a/n – this ask was too cute and i actually sobbed bc i love tecchou more than words can describe 🫶🏼

content – tecchou fluff, fem! reader, really just cute relationship type stuff, tecchou calls reader ‘sweetheart’ and ‘ my love ’ ,added backstory for absolutely no reason,i think that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis – cute lil nose bumps with tecchou :)

when tecchou had first met you, he didn’t understand why his stomach felt so queasy. was it the soy sauce he’d put in his coffee? no. it couldn’t be that– he’d drank it many times before, so what was different about today?

you–a new addition to the hunting dogs– you were the only new thing about today. his daily rituals of working out during meetings, going on his own little adventures after getting a mission done a little too quickly; all of that would now be thrown off balance because you were here.

this feeling in his stomach would go away sooner or later

or– that’s what he’d thought.

even then; two months after you’d arrived into their little group of strangely strong super freaks, the weird queasiness never subsided within tecchous stomach.

the way you smiled at jouno made his stomach churn in a way that could only be described as anger, but why would he get upset over two of his coworkers just chatting? he wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, so he went to the one member of the hunting dogs who hadn’t been so wrapped up in their space; tachihara.

tecchou went up to the fake ginger and asked him simply about why his stomach burned every time you were around him, yet it also burned with anger when you talked to anyone that wasn’t him.

“i dunno man, sounds like you like her to me-”the other male shrugged. which led to tecchou realizing that he did, in fact, like you.

and that’s what led to now, three months after tecchou had so bravely walked up to you the same day he’d found out that he actually liked you and asked you for “the honor of being his girlfriend” and who were you to tell the (arguably) cutest hunting dog no?

the two of you were sat on your couch, watching another stupid movie that tecchou had picked out. he refused to watch any high tense hostage or action movies; insisting that he “hated people getting tortured for no reason”

you’d been staring at your boyfriend for the past two minutes, trying to telepathically tell him that you absolutely did not want to watch this movie anymore, but he obviously couldn’t get your wavelengths.

the male kept shoving his face full of his buttered popcorn mixed with mustard– something that had his breath smelling disgusting and you avoiding every kiss he’d tried giving you.

“ ‘hiroooo ” you whined out towards your boyfriend, which made him finally turn his attention towards you, popcorn crumbs and mustard stained over his mouth and somehow even on his nose. you could never understand how your boyfriend got so messy while eating; it was a true mystery.

“ yes, my love? ” he’d chirped out, titling his hair so his fluffy hair that you could play with for hours upon hours. “can we change it? this is so boring!”you sighed, leaning closer to him, trying to take the remote that was placed on his lap.

“but i like this–”the males words stopped short when you got closer to him. try as he might, tecchou suehiro was the type of man to basically malfunction whenever you got closer to him. his hands found their way to your waist, moving the remote off his lap, causing you to let out a groan. you were so close and of course your puppy of a boyfriend couldn’t realize what you were doing!

the male moved you onto his lap with a ease, looking up at you as you stared down at him,“ you’re so pretty, y/n.”he leaned up, going to kiss you. and even though you loved your boyfriend, you weren’t going to kiss his popcorn and mustard filled mouth.

you slightly turned, shaking your head before putting your forehead on his, rubbing your nose against his. and let me tell you, tecchou was gobsmacked.

he looked up at you with a small frown, still staying close to you,“my love, do you not want to kiss me?” he asked as you let out a laugh. “you’re breath stinks, ‘hiro. ”

tecchou was never the type to complain, so he’d take the smallest of nose rubs from you, even if it confused him for the first six seconds it had happened.

“ if i go brush my teeth, can i kiss you?” he asked softly

you never did end up getting that remote.

the ending kinda sucked, i’m sorry! but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you!!

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peachmercury6 · 1 year ago

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Electric (Din Djarin x Reader) Pt.1

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You, Grogu’s teacher, meet his father, Din, for the first time.

Words: 558

A|N: If you can guess the story ‘you’ are reading to the children, I will love you forever. HEHEHE... Also having issues with title, and it's is all I could come up with, lmao. I don't have luck with fanfics. If you have a better title, I am open to suggestions lol.

“There are many kinds of joy, but they all lead to one: the joy to be loved.” - from some children's book.

The school day is over, and you decide to read a book to the children before they leave. You usually read to them at this time, and so far, they've enjoyed the book in the past week or two. “Master made many other wishes and had many other amazing adventures before he finally returned to the ordinary world,” you say, watching the attentive children who are excited for more. You close the book. “But that’s… another story.” The young students beg for another story from the same book.

“I’m sorry, that’s the end.”

“But Miss, it sounds like there might be more,” a child says.

You shake your head incredulously. There may be another book in the series, but you haven’t seen or heard of it yet. “Perhaps one day, I will read it again but for now, the day has ended and I’m sure your parents are anxious for your return.” The children scatter, gathering their books, and saying goodbye to their teacher.

The school on Nevarro used to have a droid teaching the children, but it unexpectedly combusted. Greef Karga chose you for the replacement – at least for now. Many parents are concerned with the sudden replacement with a human, but Karga assured them it might be a nice change for the children.

You spot a small green alien named Grogu, glancing at you with its beady black eyes like he is a bit confused. All you know about him is that he has a father, and so far no mother to speak of. Grogu is a baby yet you can tell he is a lot smarter than he looks, always remaining quiet in class when it is in session, and staying attentive. “I’m sure he will be here soon,” you reassure him. Grogu coos, as you set him down on your desk.

Not a moment sooner does the door slide open and a man in silver, beskar armor appears before you. Grogu immediately reacts, jumping into the man’s arms. You recognize the armor as Mandalorian. You thought you heard rumors of a Mandalorian living in Nevarro but you were not quite sure how true those rumors were. “Hey, little guy, sorry I was late,” the Mandalorian says, holding the infant close. He looks from Grogu to you.

You nod at him, smiling. “You must be Grogu’s father.”

“I am,” he says. “You are the new teacher, I take it?”

“Yeah, Greef Karga hired me not too long ago,” you say, holding out your hand to shake his. The Mandalorian looks at your hand for a moment, as though he were contemplating what to do with it. Eventually, his gloved hand meets yours in a handshake. Through this, you cannot help but feel the electricity in his touch. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he says, tilting his head in a nod.

As he turns to leave, you watch him hold Grogu tightly. You never thought you’d see a Mandalorian care for a child the way he does.

A few moments later of you catching your breath after meeting him, you realize Grogu forgot the handout you gave to every student before they left. It’s for a parent-teacher meeting, an idea you came up with before starting the job.

Will you travel to his or wait to give the handout tomorrow?

To be continued.....

Part 2

Feel free to send me asks. :)

#the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #mando x reader #you can reblog if you wish #din djarin #the mandalorian/reader #Grogu #The mandalorian grogu #Din grogu

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yntaro · 2 years ago

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Let’s talk about Romance Mangas!

My say to those I have read and loved: (not ranked)

1. This Manga hurts my heart. I read it while on high school and it kinda hit me with how lonely I am because I never had an Ayane-chan and Chizuru-chan, and Kazehaya-kun to downright change my life to better. But I did enjoy those time because I had romance manga to begin with. Kimi Ni Todoke might be the one that get me into read romance mangas. I liked it because I somewhat relate to Sawako, being outcasted and all. I grew to love their story, and found myself hoping that maybe love will come to me too.

Kimi Ni Todoke (From Me to You)

2. In this spin off featuring Kurumizawa Ume (a character from Kimi Ni Todoke) and Sawako’s cousin Eiji Akahoshi, my hope for meeting love blooms even greater. They were soulmates as the title suggests so they were literally speed, but then I haven’t read the latest chapters yet because I can’t find them (if anyone know, pls let me know). As I was saying, they literally skipped the slow burn but still works because we can now root for the former second leads. (Yes, Eiji is from another romance manga from the same author: Crazy for Love)

Kimi Ni Todoke: Soulmate

3. What do you do when you accidentally married a man twice your age?? Some may not want age gap romance, especially when the age gap is 20 years, but you might change your mind reading this manga. It’s wholesome and you can actually find yourself smiling and rooting for their relationship to work. This manga has been going on the internet, it’s popular so you may had heard of it, it’s where I heard of it, so I think I don’t have to had any say except I enjoyed it and I am finding or accepting manga recs similar to this.

Gomashio to Pudding (Sesame Salt and Pudding)

4. WHOLESOME IS THE WORD. This manga is fresh breath of air. I’m pretty sure most of you guys have heard of it as it’s one of this month’s anime. I just love how cute they are in each chapter, even the other couples. And I thoroughly enjoy Himuro’s monologue. :)) If you guys were bothered by random pacings, you should watch the anime instead. They swept up the plot.

Koori Zokusei Danshi to Cool na Douryou Joshi (The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague)

5. Wahhhh this is really addictive, I can’t stop myself from thinking that the whole time I am reading. A combination of slice of life, comedy, and romance genre, huh. Who knows it will all work beautifully as in this masterpiece. (Also, Sousuke Shima’s character design reminds me a bit of Miura Kento from Kimi Ni Todoke)

Skip and Loafer

6. HOT. I have no other words. Some may misunderstand though. But it’s what I think of it, like will you look at them!!! They’re attacking me. I hope we got to see how their relationship progress soon. Btw, I’m all in for Ichi, I’m sorry dear Oji.

Uruwashi no Yoi no Tsuki (In the Clear Moonlit Dusk)

Aaaand I just rumbled my thoughts on the last part. I may edit it for a more serious discussion later. Thanks! :)))

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astheniaoet · 1 month ago

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okay I had an idea for a Polin story but I’m sure somebody else’s must have written:

- the queen doesn’t forgive Penelope for being Lady Whistledown and she declares that if the Bridgerton’s family holds any connection with LW they will lose the Viscount title;

- therefore the queen suggests to annul Polin’s marriage;

- Colin doesn’t accept and Ben (he’s Viscount while Anthony is in India) feels lost and tries to help but the queen doesn’t change her mind;

- the Bridgerton family is on a verge of shame because of LW but they do their best to maintain Colin’s marriage;

- Penelope, depressed and feeling guilty, decides to run. She writes a letter to queen telling her marriage was never consumed (she lies for the sake of Colin);

- she also writes to Violet, Anthony and Colin, pleading for forgiveness;

- Colin never accepts the annulment but he only finds the letter when Pen had already gone and their marriage has already annulled;

- Portia helps her to run, Pen wants to run to America, but days before her departure she finds out she’s pregnant so she hides in England;

- Years later (not so many, like 4/5) Penelope doesn’t know what to do. It’s required to the head of the Featherington’s family to assume their title (or they might lose their house) and Pen’s has to come back to Mayfair. During this time Colin never gave up on her, always declaring he is still married.

okay I know this is very specific and I CANT STOP THINKING about this plot. At the same time I can’t write it. I cant start a new story when I have 4 that are not finished yet

I put it here so maybe someone wants to write or had thought about it…. 👀

#polin bridgerton #polin fanfiction #pregnancydrama ineedhelp colin bridgerton Penelope

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clockwork-ashes · 9 months ago

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All Things End - Part I

Summary: Everyone knows her as the Lady of Autumn, but before she had a title, she hoped she could marry for love.

Part II >>

The Autumn Court was the loveliest place in all of Prythian. At least according to Callista’s completely unbiased and entirely objective opinion. Born in one of the wealthiest, oldest, and most powerful of families on the entire island, Callista had been lucky enough to visit all of the other courts before the age of twenty, a fact that she happened to be terribly proud of. While the six other courts were all indeed quite beautiful, there was really no place like home.

The Forest House, though, was not her home, and Callista was not too keen on having to spend the week-long equinox celebrations confined to the sprawling mansion. The Equinox would be better spent in Autumn’s capital city, or even at their country home. When she’d expressed this to her mother, the other woman had given her a sad sort of smile and a gentle pat on the hand. “I’m sure we’ll have a grand time.”

Callista had not been so sure, and even though she had enjoyed herself on occasion, her back hurt from keeping it straight for hours and her feet hurt from the uncomfortable wooden heels and her cheeks hurt from having to smile at the countless courtiers and aristocrats. She supposed that having earned the attention of the High Lord was also quite enjoyable, at least at first. Beron Vanserra was really quite good looking. Little embers constantly flaring in his dark brown eyes, his golden brown hair tousled, his jaw sharp and his lips full. He was a warrior, tall and strong. His scarred hands were nice and she found herself wondering what it might feel like to run the tip of her finger along the single scar on his sharp cheekbone. The High Lord was even a wonderful dancer, a trait that just so happened to be on Callista’s long, yet entirely reasonable, acceptable-husband checklist.

Callista’s opinion of Beron Vanserra changed completely when talks of a marriage became the new court rumours. She liked Beron well enough, but she didn’t exactly know him too well. And he was perhaps a bit too old for her, not that her father seemed to mind. In a court where female children were just as valued for their ability to be political pawns equal to males, having three daughters was a blessing. No one in Autumn married for love, a fact that was accepted by the nobles and aristocrats of the Forest House more so than those in neighbouring cities and towns. Callista, despite what her parents thought about the long-standing traditions of their court, still believed that she could marry for love. So on the third day of their trip, Callista took it upon herself to try and ensure that a wedding was not in her near future.

Callista had lit the ancient curtains in the ballroom on fire, to show the High Lord that she had absolutely no control over her magical abilities. Her father had been absolutely livid, but his spirits changed when Beron mentioned it to him at dinner later that evening that the fire in her blood was unmatched when comparing her to the other young females vying for the position of Lady of Autumn.

After that failure, Callista had then purposely dropped red wine all over the front of her lovely cream gown to show everyone that she was much too inelegant to be around good company. Her mother had given her a horrified look, because Callista was many things, but she was most definitely not clumsy. The High Lord had merely given her one of his embroidered handkerchiefs. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t blushed when he’d done so, but now one of her best dresses had been ruined for nothing.

Callista had also begun to step on his feet every time they waltzed, twisting the wooden heels of her shoes on his unnaturally shiny leather boots. Every time she would walk off the dance floor, her eldest sister would raise a dark brow at her in question. For three nights she kept up the act, but it had only encouraged Beron to offer her private dance lessons.

Her latest attempt at convincing the High Lord she was obviously not a good option was mentioning that she longed to visit her maternal grandparents in Xian. Callista knew that the gossip around her mother’s family history was well-founded, considering that Autumn Court emissaries didn’t usually marry royalty from neighbouring kingdoms, and she figured that perhaps the High Lord wouldn’t want such gossip attached to his future wife. It was also no secret that Beron wished to find a bride that would guarantee him powerful, fire-wielding heirs. Callista decided to see if he would reconsider her as an option if he felt she’d inherited the ability to heal as well. Much to Callista’s disappointment, he politely asked after their health and not-so subtly added that he wouldn’t mind visiting the continent to discuss trade routes with an emissary.

So far, her attempts had been unsuccessful, but the night was still young. Callista was considering what she might do next, it had to be truly horrifying and even ridiculously embarrassing, but she would do anything not to have to marry someone. At least, not to have to marry someone just yet.

“He keeps looking my way,” Callista muttered barely above a whisper. “What should I do?” Her pale fingers smoothed the fabric of her emerald green skirts as she questioned both her sisters without looking their way.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Stasya, the eldest of her sisters, take a sip of blood red wine from her full glass. Her shoulder-length brown hair swayed as she tilted her head, “Bare your teeth at him the next time you catch his eye.” Stasya’s stunning amber eyes betrayed the fact that she was being entirely serious. “It works every single time,” she added, flames dancing in her gaze.

Callista turned to face her sisters, “I’m thinking of setting his jacket on fire.” At Roselyn’s horrified expression, she continued to speak. “Who would want to marry the fool that’s just set your expensive jacket on fire?”

“You’d be surprised,” Stasya mumbled into her glass, taking a much larger sip this time.

“What if I fall to the ground?” Callista wondered out loud, “Don’t try and catch me,” she added as an afterthought.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Stasya said, no real bite to the words.

“He’s going to ask me to dance again and then the whole court will know his intentions.”

“Callie, don’t be so dramatic, it’s hardly proper for him to ask again.” Roselyn said with an elegant wave of her hand. “He might as well be proposing for your hand in marriage if he does something like that.”

Callista hadn’t yet mentioned to her sisters that she’d heard their mother whisper-arguing with their father over a potential proposal earlier that morning. Callista bit the inside of her cheek, a habit she hadn’t been able to shake from her childhood, as she considered simply telling her sisters about a possible engagement.

Roselyn placed a gentle hand on Callista’s arm, “What’s troubling you? You seem much too in your head today.”

Callista sighed, “Father wants to arrange a marriage between us.”

Roselyn’s russett eyes, so similar to Callista’s own, widened in surprise.

“Fucking hells,” Stasya set her glass on the table and Callista watched as some of the wine spilled onto the aged wood. “Cauldron fucking boil me, isn’t he much too old for you?”

“Not all arranged marriages in Autumn end unhappily,” Roselyn said quickly. “Perhaps he’s your perfect match, how nice would that be?” Roselyn was one of the luckier Autumn court brides, having genuinely come to love the young courtier she’d been set up with more than thirty years prior.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rose, I bet they’ll be married for less than a year before they stop talking to each other entirely.” Stasya had viciously murdered her much older and harsher husband on their third year anniversary, a little known fact, but the subject of many court rumours. Callista, who knew this, hoped that was what made Stasya so absolutely dreadful when it came to comforting her in this trying time.

Roselyn clicked her tongue as she addressed Stasya, “Stop it, you horrible creature.” Ignoring Stasya’s unkind and mumbled remarks, Roselyn turned her attention back to her younger sister. “You never know, Callie, honestly. I thought I’d hate Colm forever, and he wasn’t very pleased with the arrangements our parents had made, either. But we’re happy now.”

“Colm spoils you absolutely rotten, that’s why you love him,” Stasya grumbled. “Most husbands in Autumn don’t bother.”

“Beron Vanserra is a High Lord, he has enough gold to spoil thirty wives rotten,” Roselyn retorted. “And he’s very handsome.”

“He killed five brothers for that hideous crown,” Stasya snapped.

Before either of her sisters could continue their bickering, Callista huffed a dramatic sigh. “I just don’t understand why he’d want me when he could have anyone else.”

The silence between them was a stark contrast to the chatter of the courtiers and the lovely music of the ballroom. Callista knew she was powerful, her whole family was, but there were others more powerful than her. Callista also knew she was beautiful, but there were plenty of gorgeous females at court. She was much too young for a husband, perhaps if she begged her father, he wouldn’t allow it. She also knew it was difficult to say no to a High Lord even if she could change her father’s mind about the whole thing. Callista hoped her mother could convince her father against this course of action.

Callista put an abrupt stop to her quickly spiralling thoughts when she spotted the High Lord break away from the conversation he’d been having. Callista decided she wasn’t going to wait around and see if he was going to ask her for another dance.

“Stasya,” she turned to her eldest sister with an exaggerated pout. “Sassa,” Callista tried using the childhood nickname she’d given her much older sister years ago. “Would you mind distracting Beron?” When Stasya pretended that she hadn’t heard, Callista tried again, using her cauldron-given right as the youngest to be a menace until she ultimately got what she wanted. “Sassa, please, please, please, plea—”

“Mother spare me,” Stasya said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m giving you a quarter of an hour.”

“Three quarters of an hour,” Callista corrected.

“Half an hour, and that’s it.”

That would do just fine, Callista thought, flashing a smile at her eldest sister. “You love me so much, Sassa.”

Stasya returned that smile with a roll of her amber eyes. She elegantly stood from her chair, black skirts trailing behind her as she approached the High Lord.

Callista stayed only long enough to see him grimace. She knew all too well that Stasya wouldn’t give her even a second more than the agreed upon time, so she quickly grabbed her skirts and rushed away from the table. She could hear Roselyn laughing behind her, but she couldn’t be bothered to wave goodbye.

Callista was very nearly out of breath by the time she’d made it out into the hall. She ran a hand through her loose curls as she continued to walk at a much slower pace, turning a corner and ducking under a small alcove. Callista had discovered the private balcony on her first night at the Forest House and decided she’d make it hers. No one else seemed to care much for it, and there was barely enough space on the balcony for two.

That was why, Callista figured, she came to such a sudden and graceless stop at seeing someone else, back to her, leaning against the balcony’s stone rail.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #helion x loa #helion x lady of autumn #helion spell cleaver #lady of autumn #the lady of autumn #autumn court #because i cannot stop thinking about that one line in #acowar #ashes writes sometimes

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