#I’d take the pancakes just the same

[nice-bright-colors]

Absolute Banner Day over here

So far today I have:

Sent out the last invoice that will be paid in this calendar year (fingers crossed for next week)

Made my our final payment to the IRS (fuck you Uncle Sammy, and next year - double fuck you)

Now looking at buying The Wife™️ a new phone because hers is starting to falter (thank you Apple Card for not having a balance right now)

Here to hoping that tomorrow can be a day of sex & pancakes, then packing & preparing to leave. For Monday - Saturday is going to be a long ass week.

At least Delta has already put me in Business Class Monday morning heading down to Atlanta. That croissant bread pudding with lemon ricotta and mixed berry compote is a fabulous breakfast on an airplane.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer in love with an artist reader

・❥ There’s only one good way to start the day… pancakes and ice cream.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

warning: mild swearing

You were awoken by something shifting against your chest. You stirred, adjusting slightly as you lay on your side. 

You let the covers slide around you, the cool touch of the pillow beneath your face made you smile sleepily. That’s right, you were in your bed snuggled warmly beneath your sheets. Which is not where you remembered falling asleep last night. 

Does that mean everything that happened yesterday was just a really weird dream? 

If it was, it was the most vivid dream you’ve ever had. And, it seemed a little too crazy to be real. Being thrown off a balcony and being seconds away from shooting a man, all in the same night, was not a usual day for you. 

Your brain was still foggy with sleep, and all you wanted to do was burrow your face farther into the pillow and drift off. Except, that pressure on your chest was making it hard to.

“KeeKee.. please, not right now..” You mumbled into the fabric, your voice laced with drowsiness. There was no response from the feline, but the form shifted slightly besides you, as if to nuzzle closer to you. 

Sometimes you’d find her sleeping beside you, but that was pretty rare. Even so, you weren’t going to let her ruin your beauty sleep. With gentle movements, you slowly slid your arm forward, and your fingers brushed against soft hair.

Your palms hit a firm surface beneath the silky strands. Did KeeKee always have this long of fur? Did she gain weight too? You only ignored your suspicions, and slowly pushed her off your chest, farther across the bed. Sighing happily, you pulled the covers closer to you, embracing its warmth. 

You felt something stir beside you, and the warm figure snuggled back into your chest. You groaned softly, you were too tired to take this attitude from the cat.

Lifting your arm again, your fingers quickly reached up and grasped the warm silhouette. This time, however, you let your hand travel down the form. Until you halted suddenly, your fingers grazing against something smooth and hairless. You didn’t remember KeeKee having any bald spots.

Slowly, you felt farther along. You could feel curves in the surface, cracks even. 

What in the worl-

“Is this how you plan to wake me every morning?” a voice grumbled sleepily through your fingers. 

Wait a second. There was a person in your bed?!

Your eyes shot open, the curtains thankfully covering the morning light from blinding you as you jumped out of the covers. Instinctively, your leg shot forward, kicking the stranger right in the side. He was sent tumbling off the bed with an audible “oomph,” and a heavy thump reverberated around the room. Followed by silence. 

You kneeled on top of the bed, heart pounding as your nerves settled. You blinked, you had recognized that voice. Had that been Lucifer?! 

You hurriedly crawled across the bed, your head peeking from off the side of it as you peered below you. Laying face down, was the familiar naked back of the fallen angel. His blonde hair messily spread across the wooden floor as he lay there motionless.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!! Are you okay?!” You yelled down to him. He stirred, his head nodding slowly under the hair. 

“You know, not too bad actually. Believe it or not, i’ve taken harder falls.” He mumbled against the wood. 

Lucifer shifted, rolling onto his back. He looked up at you, before blowing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. He looked totally fine, if not tired from the sudden awakening. A few rays of the morning light beamed through the window, casting some of his features in a red glow as he watched you. God, he was gorgeous. 

“I don’t remember falling asleep in my bed, what happened?” You asked him, slowly sitting up from your position. He mirrored you, lifting his torso from the ground. 

“You didn’t expect us to sleep in a chair all night, did you? I’d be cracking my back for days if that was the case. You look so peaceful when you sleep, so I couldn’t bother to wake you. But yes, I moved us to the bed.”

“So yesterday was real..” You whispered, 

“Uh, yeah. I killed a bunch of scumbags and saved you from becoming a splat on the pavement. Yesterday was definitely real.” 

Lucifer sat up fully, before getting to his feet. He stretched, raising his arms above his head before opening his mouth up in a yawn. He was already dressed in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants as he strolled to the bathroom. Did he put those on using magic?

You stood from the edge of the bed, quickly walking to your dresser and pulling out a casual outfit. You began slipping it on, before turning towards the open bathroom door.

You watched Lucifer’s back flex slightly as he bent over to wash his face in the sink, your eyes drinking in his figure. Lucifer looked nothing like the ancient paintings visualized him to be. Your brain immediately recalled the image of Alexandre Cabanel’s famous painting, ‘The Fallen Angel’.

It depicted Lucifer as wide-shouldered, toned from head to toe with thick muscles. Nice calves too. Yet, standing here before you, he embodied an angel much more than he did in that painting. Elegant, serene, otherworldly. 

Like how the candlelight perfectly illuminated his pearly-white skin, as if he was being basked in moonlight. Or how his touch was like velvet sheets against your skin, soft and delicate as he ran his fingers down your waist. 

He exuded a certain feminine grace, that enraptured you when those pretty eyes of his sent you looks of adoration as you rambled about your current fixations, or gave him more lessons in art history. You smiled warmly at the thought, he was precious to you, no doubt. 

“You know what, I’m thinking.. pancakes! We’ll finally put that big kitchen downstairs to use and make some breakfast.” Lucifer broke you out of your thoughts, as he walked up to you, pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Damn, did he change without you even noticing again? 

You smiled as he approached, the thought of food making your stomach growl. You were unbelievably hungry, seeing as there wasn’t exactly time last night to stop for a meal. 

“That sounds like a good idea, we’ll get everyone else in on it too and eat together, a big hazbin-family breakfast.” 

Lucifer nodded as he turned away from you, his eyes scanning the room. “Which reminds me, that means I can give Charlie the tuxedo…” He trailed off, turning to you slowly, a look of panic on his features.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucifer rubbed a hand down his face, growling at himself. “I must have left the bag with her suit back at the club! Ugh, I'm such an idiot.” 

“It’s still early, it won’t take you more than a minute to get across the city. Go get her a new one.” You commanded, pointing towards the balcony doors in your room. 

Lucifer followed your finger, and then nodded quickly. “You’re right, I’ll go do that.” Quickly, he adjudged his bow-tie, before heading for the doors. 

It wasn’t until his hand was just inches from the handle, did you see the rather large reddish-purple mark sticking out from the crook of his neck. Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed as you realized what exactly caused the bruise. How did you not notice that before?! 

Quickly, you ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face you. “Wait! You.. well-you, um… got something on your neck?” 

He regarded you for a moment, confusion written across his face. “Something.. on my neck?” 

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly reached up to grab the top of his shirt. On even further inspection, and a slight adjustment of his collar, you could make out the fainted curved indents of teeth marks along his collar bone.

Did you bite him that hard last night? You shouldn’t have done that. What if Charlie saw it? That would be so awkward. 

“From.. last night,” you finally uttered, “when I got a little carried away.” 

Lucifer’s gaze narrowed, and then they widened slightly as he understood. A smirk tugged on his lips as he backed away from your grasp. “So?” 

“What do you mean ‘so’? It’s not normal for people to be walking around with hickeys all over them for everyone to gawk at!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

“Why, so they won’t know I had you screaming my name, drenched on top of that table?” He asked, motioning towards the very same dining table that you had been laid over in pure bliss the night before.

You quickly averted your gaze to stop a mental picture forming, and instead met his eyes. Sending him a glare for his bluntness. Walking across the room, you bent down and pulled his overcoat from the side of your bed. Brushing off any dirt, you made your way back to Lucifer.

Silently, you wrestled him into the white garment. He stood there and watched as you adjusted his tall collar, trying your best to hide any love marks. After a little more fussing, you felt satisfied with your work and stepped back. 

“There, you’re ready to go! Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go remind everyone that I am alive.” You spoke. Last night, Lucifer had told you Angel Dust had been dropped in the lobby. It was late enough where everyone should have been asleep, and since nobody came to look for you after that, you assumed Angel had passed out and was probably working through a nasty hangover somewhere in the hotel.

You leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Lucifer’s lips, before nudging him towards the balcony doors. He turned, pulling them open and crossing the threshold. You stood in the entryway, watching him stroll to the black, metal railing. He glanced over the side, contemplating for a moment.

“Now, watch how the pro does it.” Lucifer teased as he turned to face you, his back leaning against the railing. With a little boost, he flipped himself backwards and vaulted over the metal bars. Your eyes widened in shock as he began to fall.

Right as his feet left the balcony, you ran to the railing peering over the side as you watched him plummet to the ground. Beneath him, a large, golden portal swirled alive waiting for him. 

He waved up to you just as he crossed it, the portal swallowing him up and vanishing without a trace. You smiled, shaking your head at his little performance before turning back towards the doors. 

For a few more minutes, you were busy tidying yourself up and trying to look presentable. You quickly squeezed some soap out of the little yellow ducky on the sink counter, and washed your hands and face. Soon, you noticed you were also adorned with a few love marks from Lucifer, and you sat in front of the mirror trying to hide them the best you could. 

Feeling satisfied with your work, you turned away and headed for the doorway that led into the rest of the hotel. Grasping the handle, you slowly cracked the door open, peeking your head out slightly as you listed.

You could hear loud voices down the halls, in the direction of the lobby. There were multiple of them as if everyone was gathered in the same room, you exhaled a breath before straightening. Time to face the music. 

Heading down the stairs, you strolled through the hallways. The voices became more and more audible as you closed in on the large, open room.

“-and then, I looked behind them and there was this guy all bloody and shit, pointing a gun right at Lucifer! I barely saw anything else happen b’for I was sucked into this.. golden portal or something.” Angel Dust’s voice echoed through the lobby, as he retold the events of last night. He was standing in front of the T.V, the residents of the hotel listening from the couches circled around him. They leaned in, engrossed in his story. 

“Next thing I knew, my ass hit the floor right here. God.. I was just so out of it I practically passed out where I was. I don’t remember seeing either of them after that.. hey! you!” Angel’s eyes widened as he noticed you walking towards them. Suddenly, the entire hotel’s gaze was locked onto you.

Charlie quickly shot up from the couch, hurrying over to you. She scanned your figure, searching for any injuries as you stopped before her. After noting nothing serious was wrong with you, she took your hand, gripping it tightly. “Where have you been? Angel just told us everything that happened! Are you okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I'm fine. I wasn’t hurt at all.” You assured the princess, smiling at her. Turning to the spider-demon, you scanned him for any injuries as well. “How about you, Angel. Are you okay?”

“Pfft, yeah. I’m okay. Just a lil shaken up, especially after watching you almost get shot. It seemed you got a good sleep, though.” 

“Wait, you’ve been here this whole fucking time. Did anyone else know that?” Vaggie called from the couch, crossing her arms as she stood up. 

“I did. They’ve been here all night.” Nifty spoke from the floor, her single eye staring into you. 

How did she know that? Did Nifty.. hear anything?

“Uhm.. yes, that’s right. Yesterday was just rough. So, I went to sleep right away.” You answered, lying through your teeth.

“And my dad?” Charlie questioned.

You shrugged, “I have no clue.”

“Well, at least our dear friend is back safe and sound!” A familiar voice exclaimed from next to you. You jumped slightly, turning to see Alastor and his award-winning smile as he looked at you. “Charlie insisted that I come find you, but I assured her you are capable of handling your own affairs. Especially, with our lovely king to protect you.”

You smiled slightly at him, “Yes, indeed. I’m sorry for not coming to see you guys sooner. I just got.. distracted.” 

“With what?” Angel asked, an eyebrow raised and hands on his hips. You paused, before opening your mouth to speak.

You weren’t able to get a word out before you heard a thumping coming from the front doors of the hotel. Everyone turned towards the noise, and through the stained glass, you could make out the silhouette of a rather tall hat peeking from the bottom of the glass.

“Well, ain’t that a little too good of timing.” Husk grumbled from the bar, as he leaned over the counter to get a look at the doorway. You silently agreed, that was fast. 

Charlie recognized the familiar figure as well, and quickly ran to the door. She yanked it open, and there he was. Lucifer stood, adorned in his full outfit, a pink bag in his hand as he strode into the room. Next to you, you swore Alastor’s grip on his cane tightened. 

“Charlie, good morning! How are you doing, sweetheart?” Lucifer beamed as he embraced her, who accepted the hug gratefully.

“I’m good, dad. But, what about you? I heard what happened! Did you kill people?” She eyed him with a firm stare, as if in disapproval of his actions.

Lucifer shrugged, “Only bad people, I had to protect your spider-friend over there. You should keep a better eye on him.”

“Apparently,” Charlie sighed, glancing at Angel behind them before turning back to her father, “and where have you been?”

Lucifer’s gaze momentarily landed on you, and you shook your head slightly. ‘Don’t say anything about it,’ you commanded him through your eyes. Especially not with everyone in the room, hungry for more information. 

“Oh, wellllll, I was just in town and snagged this for you!” Lucifer lifted up the pink bag, a nervous smile on his lips as he held it out for Charlie to take.

Eyeing it curiously, Charlie gently took it from his hands. She peered into it, her eyes widening as she reached in and lifted the garment from its wrapping. 

It was that same red suit that you had eyed through the glass display the day before, gold lapels shimmered in the light above. It was very beautiful, and you thought it would look good against Charlie’s ivory skin. 

Charlie didn’t say anything, instead, she just stood there. The tuxedo in her grip, opened fully to reveal the entire garment. Her fingers lightly trailed down the front of it, grazing across the buttons and textured sleeves. Her eyes were unreadable, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Did you.. buy this for me?” She asked after a moment, looking up at Lucifer. He met her gaze, seemingly a little nervous from her reaction. 

“Well, you said the one you had was getting a bunch of wear and tear, so I thought that would look perfect on you. Do.. you like it?” 

“I love it!” Charlie exclaimed with glee, she set the suit aside and pulled her father into another bear hug. “Thank you so much! It's wonderful, especially since it’s from you!” 

Lucifer exhaled a sigh of relief at her words, he tightened his arms around her, trying to capture every second of her loving gesture in his hold. He smiled warmly, and for a moment it looked like he was going to tear up. 

He didn’t, instead he pulled away, straightening his back. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his face before looking back at Charlie. The adoration in his eyes was on full display, and if anyone ever doubted that the mighty king didn’t love his daughter, you’d slap them.

Adjusting his collar, Lucifer turned towards the group of onlookers. “Now, who wants some pancakes?” 

Everyone seemed to perk at that, and Nifty hopped from her spot next to Alastor, raising her hand in excitement. 

“As long as they are sssstrawberry pancakesss!” Sir. Pentious declared as he rose from his seat, slithering towards the swinging doors, where the large kitchen lay behind. His little eggs waddling after him, a chorus of ‘oh boy!’s rose from the shells.

“Cmon,” Husk beckoned Angel Dust as he left the bar, “Let's get something in your stomach to fight that hangover of yours.”

“Oh, yes please” Angel smiled, joining the bartender. Even Alastor seemed interested in joining them in the other room, as he slowly followed behind the group. 

“I’m kinda feeling waffles today.” Vaggie spoke up, her hand entwined with Charlie’s as they walked. 

“We can make whatever you wish,” you responded, smiling at her, “except, maybe not eggs. At least with the company we’re keeping.” 

Pushing open the red doors, the flooring shifted into large, white marble tiles. The room was stuffed with cabinets and pantries, multiple fridges also dotted its perimeter. Long, creamy-white stone countertops lined the walls, as well as a large kitchen island in the center of the space. 

There was an empty space on the other side of the room, big enough to hold a large dining table and chairs. It was actually a great place to do something like that, but where could 

Behind you, Lucifer was pulling different ingredients out of the fridge. The shelves were surprisingly well stocked, even the pantries above as he continued to pull out items of importance.

“Dad, shouldn’t you take off your coat?” Charlie asked beside him, as she tied an apron around her waist. You tensed, slowly pivoting to their direction.

Lucifer halted, a box of baking powder hanging in mid-air between his fingers. His gaze snapped to you, then back to Charlie. You were desperately hoping no one could see the sweat beading down your forehead.  

“You’re right,” Lucifer started, as he placed the baking powder on the counter, “I can’t cook with such loose sleeves.” 

He snapped his fingers, and it seemed like the coat began to melt against his skin, shifting into a white turtleneck. The long neck sleeve covered the hickeys that peppered the sides of his throat, continuing to hide your previous entanglement. And, damn, he looked really nice in that outfit too. 

Tying on a red apron with the words ‘Kiss the chef’ embroidered on the front. After pulling up his sleeves, Lucifer began to pull out mixing bowls and other utensils. 

“Just you wait, Charlie, after today you’ll never want anyone else’s pancakes again. My recipe is the best there is.” He spoke, puffing out his chest slightly as he addressed his daughter. 

Charlie only laughed softly, pulling out a box containing waffle mix as she sidled up next to her dad. “I don’t doubt that one bit!” 

As the two continued prepping to cook, you turned to grab an apron of your own. As you walked to the wooden hooks hanging on the wall, you took note of the others around you. 

Angel, Husk, and Sir. Pentious huddled together over another counter, a carton of milk and a jar of strawberry jam laid in front of them.

“How ‘bout we make ya some strawberry milk while we wait, snake boy?” He asked, a playful smile on his lips. Sir. Pentious nodded quickly, his hood raised in happiness. 

Using a tablespoon to take a few scoops out of the jar, he plopped them into an empty cocktail mixer that he borrowed from the bar. Pouring in the milk, he placed the lid on the mixer, before handing it to Husk. 

With a few shakes—and a couple of party tricks consisting of him catching the mixer behind his back, and spinning it across his forearm—the lid was popped off, and Husk poured the bright pink liquid into the glass cup in front of Sir. Pentious. 

Both demons clapped for the bartender, who smiled proudly at the reaction. Sir. Pentious gingerly lifted the glass to his lips, before taking a small sip. After a moment, eyes lit up, a large smile on his face.

He took another large gulp, before thanking Angel Dust and Husk for the drink. 

“Oh, and don’t forget about my egg boisss.” Sir. Pentious turned to Angel Dust, pointing at the small group of eggs looking enviously up at the drink in his claws. 

Angel looked down, his eyes darting to the ingredients in front of him, before he simply shrugged. “Alright, who’s thirsty?” 

“I would like some, please!” Frank yelled excitedly, the eggs behind him jumping in place with large smiles on their faces. 

Angel Dust chuckled, turning away to grab more glasses. Husk was already preparing the scoops of jam, licking a small mess of the red foodstuff from his claws. 

Grabbing the apron from the hook, you adjusted it to your figure, tying it tight behind your back. Next to you, Vaggie was holding a knife in her hand. She was looking down, a firm gaze aimed at Nifty.

“No, Niff. This is not a place to run around with a knife. You can get it back after breakfast.” 

Nifty’s shoulders drooped, a frown on her face as she walked away. She passed by Alastor, who stood silently, watching the bustling group of demons. Wasn’t he going to join in? He was technically part of the Hazbin family. 

Slowly, you approached him, and his gaze snapped to you. His smile widened as he turned to you, the cane at his side rolling between his fingers. 

“Ah, hello there, my friend! Good to see you alive and well, ha-ha,” His eyes squinted as he tilted his head at you, “what can I do for you today?” 

“Don’t you want some food? We’ll be cooking soon. It doesn’t have to be breakfast, I think we have enough here to make whatever you want.” 

Alastor actually contemplated your question for a moment, his eyes staring off in thought. “Hm, well, there was something I had in mind, but the seasoning it needs is not in my possession anymore.” 

“What happened to it?” You asked curiously.

“I simply gave it to someone more in need of it than I. Hopefully, she’ll be putting good use to it.”

A lady friend? You wanted to ask about this ‘someone’, but felt prying wouldn’t get you anywhere with the mysterious overlord. Instead, you beckoned him to follow as you walked towards the counter space Lucifer and Charlie were situated at. 

You both stopped at the creamy-white marbled island. On its surface, was a large recipe book and different ingredients spread across. Alastor had to like something here, even if it wasn’t a decaying deer.

“Let’s see.. we could do french toast, yogurt parfaits, breakfast burritos, oh! We even could make hash browns! What do you think?”

Alastor bent down to look besides you, his eyes scanning the pages. He opened his mouth to speak, before his gaze snapped to another demon coming into view.

“Darling, i’ve finished the pancake mix. I was thinking you could…” Lucifer stopped, locking eyes with the Radio Demon. A frown formed on his lips, and his brow furrowed. “Oh. It’s you.” 

That smile Alastor held widened, as he straightened himself and turned towards the fallen angel. You grimaced, not again.

“Your majesty! What a pleasure to see you this hellish morning, I apologize for not being able to greet you when you arrived earlier.”

“A tragedy.” Lucifer responded mildly, before his eyes settled on you. 

“Well isn’t this nice! The four of us, all working together to make this breakfast special.” Charlie appeared besides her father, a smile on her lips as she tried to lighten the situation.

“Yes, I was just asking Alastor what else he thinks we should make.” You nodded along, before turning to the demon for his input.

“It appears your menu contains a less-than-ideal amount of meat, my friend. Perhaps, some bacon roll-ups? They were a staple for meals back in my days on earth. Very simple as well, just cream cheese, bread, and bacon!”

You were aware of what he was talking about. They were made by putting cream cheese on a slice of bread, before using a strip of bacon to roll it into a ball. You’d spear it with a toothpick and bake it for about twenty minutes, and wala, an odd delicacy.

“That is a great idea! Isn’t it, dad?” Charlie asked, nudging her father with her elbow, prodding for a response.

“It sounds kind of gross.” 

“Dad!” Charlie turned, a slight growl in her voice. “Say something nice!” 

“Bacon is much better than venison, though!” Lucifer quickly responded, following his daughter’s demand. You place a hand to your face, sighing at his antics. A hint of smile played on your lips as you walked forward, pulling Lucifer away by the arm.

Charlie turned back to Alastor, their conversation inaudible as you walked away. You went to the opposite side of the kitchen, where the bowl full of pancake batter lay. Flour messily covered the countertop, 

“You two need to learn to get along, you bicker like an old married couple.” You said after a few moments.

Lucifer shot you a look, visibly distraught by your comment. “That guy gets on my nerves! If it weren’t for Charlie liking him so much, I'd smite him.” 

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” you teased, leaning against him. You both sat there for a few moments, silently indulging in each other's presence. Later, you’d ask to seek his company in the privacy of your room. For now, you pulled away, grabbing the mixing bowl.

“So, what did you need my help with?” 

“I thought you’d like to give the pancakes a little.. shape,” he started, turning towards the stove and spinning the dial, “use that artistic talent of yours and make a delicious masterpiece, hm?” 

You perked, he wants you to make pancake art? What a wonderful idea! This was something you have never done before, but you’ve seen enough videos to imitate it. “I’ll go get some dark food coloring, and another mixing bowl.”

Lucifer began placing pans onto the stove burners, placing small amounts of butter in each. They sizzled as the pan began to heat. You stood besides him, slowly stirring the batter as you hummed to the tune of ‘innsbruck, I must leave thee’ 

Soon, Lucifer was humming the notes as well, and you smiled warmly as the two of you stood-by-side, drowning out the other’s chatter with your little tune. 

Nearby, Vaggie and Charlie were giggling to each other as they placed the waffle mix into its designated maker. Small bowls of different fruit and syrup spread around, as they prepared the toppings. 

Alastor stood beside them, a large cooking fork floating mid-air in front of him. Small tendrils snaked around the utensil as it occasionally lowered to the pan in front of him to adjust the bacon. 

“Hey, Al! Why don’cha give us a table over here so we can have somewhere to eat?” Angel Dust called, a stack of plates in his hand. The egg bois stood patiently around him, each holding a set of silverware and napkins. 

Alastor turned to the spider-demon before humming a confirmation. Lifting his hand, he snapped his fingers. A large oak table materialized from a cloud of green smoke, a long, red table-runner rolled free as it hung slightly off the edges.

Chairs seemingly rose from the floor like the undead, rocking slightly as they settled around the table. The egg bois rushed forward, clumsily climbing up the chairs as they began placing the silverware. Using his extra arms, Angel quickly placed the plates down, before doing the same with the glass cups. 

Husk raised Nifty by the waist, allowing her to reach over the table and pour the different liquid contents into their respectable glasses. 

Strawberry milk for Sir. Pentious and his bois, water for Alastor, and chocolate milk for Vaggie and Charlie. Apple juice filled Lucifer’s cup, and your favorite drink was topped to the brim right next to his.

In front of you, two bowls of batter laid beside the stove you stood at. One was a dark brown, the other a much lighter shade. 

You had cleaned two ketchup bottles, before slowly pouring in the different batters and filling them full. Using the bottles, you’d make batter shapes on the pan, and use the lighter shade to fill in the lineart.  

Right now, you were attempting to make the outline of a duck—who would have thought?—for Lucifer. It was coming out surprisingly well, in your opinion. The lines were rather smooth, and the beak looked like a beak so all seemed good. 

You switched bottles, ready to begin filling in the pancake. Before you felt someone sidle up behind you, fingers grazed softly down your back with familiar warmth.

“What are you doing now?” Lucifer peeked from behind you, getting a glimpse of your work. You moved over slightly, inviting him in front of your cooking easel. 

“Take a guess,” you smiled next to him, “I figured you’d want something cute to start off your day.”

“Well, it seems you made it too cute to eat.” Lucifer pouted, as he stared at the little pancake. You laughed, reaching for a spatula and gripping the pan handle with the other hand. 

“And it’s too cute to let it get cold and then throw it away.” You spoke, lowering the spatula into the pan. You shimmied it underneath the pancake, before flipping it quickly. As it landed, the image of the duck became much clearer, the lines flat and smooth. 

“I’m just glad you love me enough to combine my two favorite things.” Lucifer smiled, before he nuzzled his cheek softly against yours. You moved your head slightly, letting your lips graze against his cheekbone. 

Looking down at the pancake, you lifted it slightly to check whether it was done. Seeing the golden-brown hue, you lifted the ban from the burner. Slowly, you slid the duck-cake onto the finished pile. 

There were two plates of hot, delicious pancakes. One was simply everyday pancakes, which Lucifer had made. Yours on the other hand were handcrafted  Each one was a unique shape. There was a smiley face, an octopus, a butterfly, a fish, and now, a duck. You smiled proudly at your creations. 

Picking up the plates of pancakes, the two of you walked towards the dining table. The egg bois were already seated, and the others were finishing up their tasks.

“Finally, let’s eat!” Vaggie called towards the group of demons slowly gathering around the table. Charlie picked up a few waffles from the stack, and placed them on a few plates. 

Vaggie appeared next to her, a small plate of french toast in her grip as she too began moving around the table. 

Alastor set a large, flat dish in the middle of the table. Small toothpicks stuck out of the bacon wraps, steam wafting slowly from the interior. Nifty reached out and grabbed one, placing it on her plate.

You turned towards the pile of pancakes, grabbing a spatula to begin setting them on a separate plate before Lucifer slid beside you, watching your movements.

“I’ve got this, Darling. You go sit down.” He nudged you away from the plates, towards the table. You sent him a warm smile, before turning and taking a seat next to Sir. Pentious and Husk. 

“Saved a seat for me, did’ya?” Angel Dust smiled at Husk, before plopping down into the seat next to him. He had a large fruit bowl, a multitude of sliced colorful produce nestled together.

“Only because you’d bitch if I didn’t,” Husk replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he drank from his glass. To be honest, this was the first time you saw Husk take a sip of something that wasn’t alcohol. 

Charlie lowered the large plate of remaining waffles onto the table, before brushing her hands against her apron and walking to her own seat.

“Dig in, everyone!” she exclaimed, her smile infectious as she served herself a stack of french toast.

Nifty’s eyes widened in delight as she took a bite of the bacon wrap, while Sir Pentious marveled at the designs of your handcrafted pancakes.

“Here you go, little lady.” Lucifer bowed slightly to Nifty, setting down the steaming tower of pancakes in front of her. She clapped her hands with giddy, before turning to Lucifer and giving him a pat on the cheek.

“Good boy.” She teased, before bursting into giggles.

Lucifer’s smile faltered, and he leaned back. He chuckled nervously, backing away to grab more food. He quickly walked around the table, before setting waffles onto each of the eggs boi’s plates. They licked their lips hungrily, as they stared down at the delicacy in front of them. Lucifer stood up, a hand slowly reaching behind his back.

“A good friend of mine told me you boys fancy ice cream, is that right?” He looked at Frank, who nodded his shell rapidly. Lucifer grinned cheekily, as he pulled forth a large tub of vanilla ice cream.

“Well, good thing for you, nobody said you can’t mix a little dessert with breakfast once in a while.” 

The egg bois practically went berserk seeing the holy grail of yummy deliciousness. They vibrated happily in their seats as Lucifer scooped a large glob on top of each egg’s waffles. It began to slowly melt, running across the waffles surface like syrup. 

He stepped back, as the eggs began to devour the food on their plates. Mumbling a thanks through their full mouths as Lucifer strode away, grabbing pancakes for himself.

He sat down across from you, his eyes moving from the scene around him and then on to you. He stared at you for a moment, while you were busy stuffing your face with the food on your plate. After a moment, you met his gaze. 

“Food too hot, or something? You keep staring at me.” You teased, tilting your head at him.

“It’s just hard to tear my gaze away,” he spoke, “when there is something much more delicious in front of me than the pancakes on my plate.” 

Your cheeks heated, and you averted your gaze, reaching out to grab a bacon wrap. You twisted the toothpick between your fingers, and inhaled the scent as it wafted from the small bundle.

It wasn’t too bad, and you were about to take a nibble before you saw Lucifer’s watery eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, and he only sniffled in response.

“You’re going to eat his wraps before you eat my pancakes?” He pouted, lowering his head in mock-defeat. Rolling your eyes playfully, you took a fork and cut a small piece of pancake from the rest. Taking the bacon wrap, you stabbed the other end of the toothpick through the small square. 

Lifting the bacon-pancake duo to your lips, you pulled them from the toothpick with your teeth. You swirled it in your mouth, your eyes rolling back as the flavors burst on your tongue. 

When you looked back at Lucifer, he was staring intensely at you. A smirk playing on his lips, before he sighed dramatically. 

“Now what is it?”

“Nothing.. just thinking about how that could be me.” 

You burst out laughing when those words left his lips, shocked at his sudden bluntness. Sir Pentious turned to you, giving you a look of worry as you almost choked on your food. 

After a moment, you cleared your throat. You sent Lucifer a glare for almost killing you, and he only chuckled before turning his attention from you.

Charlie, who had been sitting a few chairs away, turned to you. She smiled warmly as she spoke, “thank you for helping us with this. I really liked your butterfly pancake!”

You returned the smile, nodding your head. “It was no problem at all, I think we all deserve to have a good meal surrounded by friends. It’s you who brought us all together, so thank you.”

Charlie blushed at your words, before turning her attention back to Vaggie. Who was talking to her about an idea regarding the hotel. 

You looked around the table, taking note of the smiling faces and cheerful conversation. Alastor was helping Nifty cut some of her pancakes, his precise strikes with the knife seemed familiar to that of cutting steaks.

Sir Pentious was handing his eggs each a piece of french toast, helping them drown it in syrup as they sat there happily. Slight traces of ice cream still around their mouths.

Angel Dust and Husk were busy picking fruit from the bowl, with Angel making some kind of lude comment as he watched fruit juice dribble down Husk’s chin. Who only growled and playfully swatted at the spider-demon.

Your gaze stopped in front of you, resting on Lucifer. He had finished almost his entire plate, and now was resting his chin against his knuckles. His elbow rested against the table, and he shifted slightly to tilt his head at you. 

“Well, what do you think? Would you have preferred breakfast in bed?” He asked, taking another sip of his apple juice.

You shook your head, smiling at him. Contentedness spreads across your features as you let the food settle in your stomach. 

“No, I could get used to mornings like this,” you spoke softly. 

Lucifer nodded, his fingers reaching out to graze yours. You laced your index finger with his, and tapped his knuckles softly. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

who doesn’t enjoy some fluff about cooking with your lover? just pure fluff today, but i hope you guys enjoyed this! :)

sorry about that long wait, forgive me 🙏

taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @kottenox

[eroselless]

─────────────── the spaces between us // 2

series summary: when you accept a job as an au pair in the irish countryside, you expect to spend your days caring for your little new pal but its all upended when his charming uncle arrives to stay for the holidays. [3k]

[paul mescal x reader]

masterlist | part 1 | part 3

warnings: kinda angst, sort of complicated family dynamics

note: hiii sorry it took me a little longer to get this out. i originally wanted to post the next part a few days ago but I came down with a nasty cold and could not sit down to focus. hope y'all enjoy it!

The soft patter of footsteps pulls you from your sleep much earlier than usual, a familiar giggle echoing through the quiet house. As you stir, you recognize the laughter—the one that never fails to bring a smile to your face. With a quiet sigh, you slip out of bed and wander into the kitchen.

The room hums with life. The gentle clink of cutlery against porcelain mingles with hushed murmurs, shushes, and the sound of laughter that fills the space. The first rays of sunlight filter through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the scene.

At the kitchen island, Paul and Callum sit together, sharing a pancake. Callum picks at the edges, pulling out the chocolate chips poking through, giggling as Paul swipes a few from the bowl beside them. The moment feels peaceful, intimate in a way that tugs at your heartstrings.

Leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help but smile at how easily they fall into sync. Callum stretches across the plate, tugging the bowl of chocolate from Paul’s hands. “Uncle P, stop stealing the chocolate chips!”

Paul glances up, a mischievous glint in his eye as he chews dramatically. “I’m quality-checking them, mate.”

Callum bursts into uncontrollable giggles, his face alight with pure joy before stuffing a handful of chocolate into his mouth, just like his uncle.

You clear your throat softly, and they both turn toward you. Paul’s blue eyes crinkle warmly with a smile, a look mirrored almost perfectly in Callum’s face—Niamh’s eyes, the same striking shade of blue shared across their family.

“Mamaíín!” Callum cries, nearly toppling off his seat as he rushes toward you. His sticky hands wrap around your legs, his face nuzzling into your middle as he beams up, mouth smudged with chocolate. “We made pancakes!” he exclaims proudly, tugging you toward the counter. “Uncle Paul let me do the whisking!”

 “Oh, did he?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at Paul.

Paul shrugs casually, leaning back in his chair. “He insisted. And I wasn’t about to argue with the chef.”

You chuckle softly, pulling out plates for yourself and Niamh. As you put the coffee on, ready to start the day, you feel Paul’s gaze linger on you for a moment before he turns back to Callum. Moments later, Niamh appears in the doorway, sharp as always, her notebook and phone balanced in one hand.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” she asks.

Your eyes flick briefly to Paul, who raises an eyebrow as if sensing the shift in tone, before you follow Niamh into the hallway. Her usual composed demeanor falters ever so slightly as she turns back to you.

“I need the house to myself today,” she says bluntly. “Callum’s father is coming by to pick up a few things, and… it’s not something I want Callum around for.”

You blink in surprise, catching the strain in her voice. “Of course. I’d planned to take him out today anyway. It works perfectly.”

Her shoulders relax faintly, though her voice remains tight. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “Paul can go with you. He’s got nothing else to do, but I’d prefer Callum not be alone with him all day.” You understand the implication—trust him, but not entirely. “We’ll keep him busy.”

When you arrive at the community center, it’s buzzing with its usual chaos. The building, modest and tucked at the edge of town, is alive with bright posters, hand-painted murals, and the unmistakable scent of too many feet. Children squeal and race around, filling the space with noise and energy. You unclip Callum’s coat, and he bolts into the crowd, a toy airplane clutched in hand.

Paul trails behind as you find a seat in the parents’ waiting area. Hands shoved into his coat pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, he looks distinctly out of place.  “Didn’t think I’d ever feel intimidated by toddlers,” Paul murmurs softly.

“You’ll survive,” you reply, suppressing a grin at his unease.

“I don’t like being outnumbered,” he mutters, glancing nervously at the many curious eyes turned your way. You wave at a few familiar faces before settling into a chair. Paul watches the scene before him, bemused.

“This is madness,” he chuckles. “There’s no way we were this loud as kids.”

“You probably were,” you tease lightly.

Callum soon spots you both, his voice rising above the chatter. “Look! I’m making a castle!” He grins, holding up a tower of oversized blocks. Paul smiles. “You’re an architect, mate.”

Just then, a tall brunette in a fitted sweater saunters over, her smile a touch too bright, her gaze fixed on Paul. “Well, well, Callum’s uncle, is it?” she purrs, her words dripping with sugary charm. “I thought you were a myth. It’s nice to finally see you back in town.”

Paul straightens awkwardly, caught off guard. “Uh… just visiting for the holidays.”

Her smile tightens as she gives you a once-over, her silent question clear: What’s he doing here with you?

“How lovely for you,” another woman chimes in, her tone sharper than her smile. “Having company must make things so much easier.”

Your cheeks flush at the insinuation, a pit settling in your stomach. “Oh, it’s not—” you begin, glancing at Paul, who has been pulled into Callum’s growing block tower project.

“Isn’t it?” the brunette—Maeve, you realize—drawls smugly. “I mean, who wouldn’t want someone… handsome to share the load?”

A third woman, gentler but still teasing, interjects. “Oh, leave her be. You’re just jealous, Maeve. If I had someone like him tagging along, I’d be smiling too.”

Maeve laughs sharply. “Careful, sweetie, or we might just steal him from you.”

Before you can muster a reply that doesn’t sound defensive, Callum’s small hands tug at yours, breaking the tension like only he can. “Mamaíín, we need you! Uncle Paul keeps messing up our pirate tower.”

Relieved, you let Callum drag you toward the community garden, an open space enclosed by glass walls that let the crisp winter light stream in. The air is a little sharper, less dull than it is outside, the walls only offering you a little bit of shelter from the December air.

You crouch beside him, seeing the remnants of a tower. Callum is huffing, taking sticks and stones from Paul’s hands as he sits next to the partial tower. 

“We need the strong ones,” Callum declares, shifting through smaller ones in his hands and tossing them away. “This one’s going to be really tall. Tall enough to see all the pirates!” 

You laugh at how he keeps taking sticks from Paul, frustrated at his uncle's lack of pirate tower building knowledge. You brush hair from your face as you collect bigger stones. “We’ll need a solid base first. Otherwise, the tower will topple as soon as there’s any wind.”

Callum nods solemnly, getting down to help you. Paul sits still, watching you both. His arms are crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but his gaze almost contemplative.

“Callum, just look at how careful she is,” he says suddenly, his tone light. 

You glance up, a little confused. “Careful?” Callum makes the same face, watching as his uncle shifts in his spot. 

He gestures vaguely to the stick in your hands, lucking one out of your open palm. “The way you handle things. Like a bird—delicate, precise.”

Before you can even think of a response, Callum’s face lights up, his giggle bright. “Oh, yes! Like a mamaíín bird!”

You blink, startled. “A what?”

Callum giggles, clearly delighted with himself. “A mamaíín bird! You’re little, and you take care of everything, like the birdies do!”

Paul chuckles softly, crouching beside Callum. “He’s got a point. You are a bit bird-like.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

Paul grins, his blue eyes meeting yours for a beat longer than necessary. “Oh, it is. Trust me, Birdie.”

The way he says it—low, teasing, yet laced with warmth—sends an unexpected flutter in your chest. You turn your face away, hoping to hide the flush on your cheeks, but the name lingers in the air settling into something unspoken yet significant.

“Mamaíín bird, can we make a nest too?” Callum tugs at your sleeve, breaking the moment.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “Let’s finish the tower first, and then we’ll see about a nest.”

Paul leans back on his heels, his smirk widening. “Careful, Birdie. Looks like you’re getting roped into full-time bird duties.”

You glance at him, your smile faint but genuine. “As long as you’re willing to help.”

“Of course,” he replies, his voice playful but steady.

You sit there for another half hour, the tower collapsing a few more times before it finally stands. Callum, satisfied, dashes off to collect pirate swords, leaving you and Paul behind. He sits quietly, twisting a twig between his fingers.

“He’s been calling me that for a while—mamaíín,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “But he won’t tell me what it means.”

Paul raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Has he now?”

You hum, brushing dirt from your hands. “And Niamh won’t explain it either, something about not wanting to bring too much attention to it.”

Paul chuckles softly, his tone turning more serious. “Mamaíín… it’s Irish. A diminutive, like a pet name. It means ‘little mummy.’”

Your breath catches slightly as you glance at him. “Little mummy?”

Paul nods, his gaze steady, thoughtful. “It’s affectionate. It’s how he sees you. Someone who takes care of him. Someone he trusts.”

The weight of the explanation settles warmly in your chest, heavy and tender all at once. “Oh,” you murmur, turning back to the half-finished tower. “That’s… sweet.”

“It is,” Paul agrees quietly. “And fitting.”

There’s something in his voice—gentle, sincere—that makes your cheeks flush. Before you can respond, Callum charges back, shouting about needing rocks for a cannon.

Paul ruffles Callum’s hair as he joins in, leaving you alone for just a moment to let the weight of his words settle.

✧・゚: ✧・゚:

The playgroup winds down mid-afternoon, the earlier chaos subsiding as the children begin to tire out and parents begin gathering their things. Callum’s cheeks are flushed as he clings to Paul, one hand caught in his while the other wobbles his airplane. 

“Seems like you’ve got a fanclub now,” you murmur to Paul as you tug Callum’s jacket back on. 

Paul groans faintly, clearly uncomfortable from all the wandering eyes and snarky comments. “Yeah, Maeve’s got me down as her next trophy.” 

You laugh under your breath, but the moment is cut short as your phone buzzes in your back pocket with a message from Niamh. 

Niamh: This is taking a little longer than expected, would you be able to pick up some groceries on your way home? I’ll send you a list.

You frown slightly at the message, feeling for her frustration. Soon another message pings through, the list of items she needs. 

“Everything alright?” Paul asks, crouching to help Callum with his snow boots.

“Niamh needs a few things from the shop,” you say, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Since we’re already out.”

Paul straightens up, almost effortlessly scooping Callum up into his arms. “Groceries it is, then. My culinary expertise might come in handy.”

“You mean sneaking crisps into the cart?” you tease lightly.

Paul smirks, poking at Callum’s red cheeks. “Can’t let him grow up without the essentials.”

The town’s grocery store is quiet when you get there, smelling of fresh bread and cleaning supplies. Callum rides in the cart, humming to himself as he waves his airplane around. 

“Alright,” you start, scrolling through Niamh’s list on your phone. “Alright,” you say, scrolling through Niamh’s list on your phone. “Milk, bread, eggs… and tea.”

“Don’t forget snacks,” Paul chimes in, grabbing a bag of crisps off the shelf and tossing it into the cart with practiced ease.

You glare at him playfully. “Those weren’t on the list.” 

Paul simply shrugs, pushing the cart forward. “Snacks are the universal currency, right Callum?”

“Yes!” the boy pipes up, snagging a bag of treats from his uncle's hands. You roll your eyes but can't stop the giggle that falls from your lips as you continue down the aisles, Paul slipping forbidden treats into the cart whenever you turn away, Callum laughing conspiratorially under his breath. 

At the dairy section, you stop to reach for a carton of milk, looking for a specific brand. Before you can react, Paul, ever observant, grabs it for you, handing it over as Callum babbles about pirates and towers. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, a smile trying to make its way onto your face. 

“Anytime, Birdie,” the man replies, the nickname slipping out so effortlessly you feel like you could drop the carton of milk he just slid into your hands. You narrow your eyes at him, but his attention is elsewhere, already halfway down the aisle, rambling about what brand of tea you should get. 

As you catch up to the pair of boys, a woman pauses next to you. She’s a stout elderly woman, her long silver hair cascading down her back. She watches as Paul listens in wonder as Callum chatters away about “canon towers.”

“Well, don’t you have a handsome boy there,” she coos, smiling at him warmly. Callum beams, holding up his toy airplane for her to admire.

The woman then looks between you and Paul, her sharp eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You two must be so proud. He’s the spitting image of his father.”

Your heart jolts. “Oh—no, he’s—”

Paul stammers at the same time, “I’m just his uncle—”

The woman waves a hand dismissively, clearly not listening. “It’s always the way, isn’t it? The mother does all the work—nine months of carrying, all those sleepless nights—only for the little one to come out looking like his da.”

You freeze, heat creeping up your neck, unsure whether to laugh or correct her again. Paul, equally flustered, rubs the back of his neck. “Er—he’s not mine. She’s—”

The woman isn’t paying attention anymore, her focus back on Callum as she coos again, “Lucky boy to have such loving parents.”

Before either of you can say another word, she shuffles off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Callum, oblivious, turns in the cart and beams up at Paul. “Uncle Paul, did you hear? I look like you!”

Pail blinks, letting out a quiet slightly awkward laugh. “Seems like the Mescal genes are strong in you, mate.” 

You stare down at the tea in your hands, unsure how to respond. Callum, thankfully, breaks the tension. “Uncle Paul, look! It’s pirate tea!” He’s holding a box with cockatoos on it, a hibiscus flower on the front. 

Paul clears his throat, ruffling Callum’s hair as he grins faintly. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it is.”

The awkward feeling lingers between you as you make your way to the checkout. Paul insists on loading the bags into the cart while once again Callum chatters away, entirely oblivious to the exchange. 

As you step outside, the sky now much darker than before, Paul finally breaks the silence. “That was… something.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

Paul raises an eyebrow, “People thinking I’m your husband?”

You roll your eyes, the teasing note in his voice making your cheeks warm up for the umpteenth time today. “People making assumptions. Families come in different shapes and sizes, you know.”

Paul glances at you, something thoughtful in his expression, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he focuses on Callum, who’s waving his airplane toward the horizon like it’s searching for treasure.

“Where to next, Captain?” Paul asks, his voice light. He pokes at Callum's cheek, using one hand to push the full cart.

“Home!” Callum shouts, his enthusiasm unending. He twists in the cart, pointing towards the car as if to say Onward! Letting out a whoop, Paul pushes off the ground, hopping onto the bottom rail of the cart. He balances on it as it drifts forward.

You smile softly as you lead the way to the car, feeling a warmth you can’t quite explain settle in your chest.

✧・゚: ✧・゚:

The house is quiet when you arrive, the silence feeling heavier than it did before. There's a single glass of wine sitting on the counter, its contents empty, save for a few drops at the bottom. 

Callum charges up to play, disappearing and fully unaware of the somber mood in the house. You and Paul settle into unpacking the groceries in the kitchen, the soft rustle of bags and clinking of glass on the counter filling the empty room. 

It's not long before Niamh appears in the doorway, almost echoing this morning’s encounter. Her shirt isn’t as crisp as it was this morning, her eyes now rimmed with red and remnants of mascara. She looks exhausted, pieces of her auburn hair slipping loose from her carefully coiffed bun.

“Groceries?” she asks, her voice slightly clipped. 

“All here,” you reply, gesturing to the half empty bags that are still left lined up on the counter. 

Her eyes skim over the unpacked items, flicking over to Paul briefly before settling back on you. “Thank you, I appreciated it.”

The words are simple but her tone is strained, you can feel the weight on her shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, drawing closer to where she’s standing by the archway. Her arms are crossed over her chest—a sort of coping mechanism she’s passed on to Callum. 

“It’s been a long day. I had… some conversations that were necessary.” Her words falter for a moment, her gaze dropping before she masks it quickly. “Nothing to worry about.”

You glance at Paul, who’s watching Niamh carefully, his brows furrowed. There’s questions in his eyes but he doesn’t voice them. He lets her stand on her own, just as she always has. 

“If you need anything…” you begin gently, reaching out to put a hand on her arm but she pulls it away before it lands. She shakes her head. 

“Thank you. You’ve done enough,” she says. On any other occasion, you’d feel a bite to her words but they sound more like a quiet admission. Her eyes soften as she meets yours. “He’s happy with you, that’s what matters.”

The weight of the words settle in the air around you, you’re not sure whether it’s a compliment or something else—a reminder of what she’s failing to do herself. 

Niamh’s gaze flicks to Paul again, lingering. “Callum shouldn’t be up late. Keep an eye on him.”

With that, she leaves the kitchen, her footsteps soft as she retreats upstairs.

a/n: haiiii, if you gotten this far I wanted to say thank you for reading! any feedback and reblogs are appreciated :)))

[gottaluvharry]

family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

[pitchsidestories]

these rare moments II Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

a/n: dear readers, enjoy the cozy oneshot and thanks to @unpoppablebubbles, for sending us the request. This will be the only story we publish this week because unfortunately we both got quite sick.

masterlist I word count: 1797

“Hola guapa.”

There it was that warm voice and smile you’d recognize everywhere in the world. Alone by hearing her greeting words warmed up your heart.

“Ana?”, you replied surprised.

“Yes, I’m home for a few days.”, the Swiss woman explained cheerfully.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’d have picked you up from the airport?”, you asked her, pulling your sports bag off your shoulder.

“Because I know you were busy?”, she answered amusedly pointing towards you, still dressed in Barca training gear.

“I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Don’t worry about that.”, Ana-Maria shook her head.

“Do you want to go out for dinner or stay in tonight?”, you questioned.

“I thought we could stay in and cook something together.”, the blonde proposed with a big smile on her lips.

“Yes, that’s a nice idea, we weren’t able to do this since you moved to..”, you trailed off.

“It’s hard to cook together on two different continents. Unless I make breakfast and you make dinner.”, Ana Maria remarked light-hearted.

“Right.”, you sighed heavily, sadness swinging in your voice.

“But now I’m here to cook with you.”, she responded beaming.

“And making sure that nothing burns.”, you joked.

“I’d never burn food.”, the older player protested.

“You wouldn’t but I’d. Remember when we started dating and I tried to make pancakes for you in the morning?”, you reminisced fondly about the beginning of your relationship.

 It was a couple of weeks into the football season where Ana Maria was one of the new signings. You had formed a connection to her immediately.

You were the one teaching her Spanish initially but turned out she was skilled at languages and asked you on a date in your native language not long after the start of your lessons.

The first night she slept over at your home you wanted to treat her to pancakes in the morning which turned out to be a terrible mistake.

“Yes, they were all burned. I think you have to show me tomorrow if you’ve learned it by now.”, Ana Maria suggested smirking.

“I’ll.”, you promised.

“But first, let’s make dinner. Bet you’re starving from training.”, the blonde grinned, leading you to your kitchen.

While she was cutting the vegetables you jumped on to the kitchen counter.

“I’m, the kids are getting younger and younger, and I just feel old and exhausted after training.”, you admitted half-joking half serious.

“Oh, please. I know for a fact that you can still keep up with them easily.”, Ana Maria looked up at you with amusement.

“You do, hm? Are you trying to watch as many games as you can?”, you wanted to know curiously before helping her to cook.

Your girlfriend nodded with a proud smile: “Of course. Even if I miss them, I make sure to watch the highlights.“

“I do the same with yours.“, you admitted. Your heart suddenly beat a bit faster.

She laughed: “You do?”

“Of course. Wine to celebrate our reunion?”, you suggested innocently.

As you expected, she agreed: “Sure.“

There was a bottle of red wine in your cabinet that you had kept for a special occasion. And this occasion seemed very appropriate for it.

You poured two glasses of wine and slid one over to Ana Maria.

The food simmered on the stove as you both sat down at the kitchen table, talking about the past few month without each other.

The bottle emptied with time and your cheeks got warmer with every sip. The alcohol started to take effect and you could feel your brain move on to more pressing topics, topics you had to try to ignore for the past months.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after Seattle?”, you heard yourself ask.

You girlfriend studied your face for a moment before shrugging: “I don’t know. Why?”

“Just curious.“, you replied, painting small circles on the kitchen table with your fingertips.

“I’d love to come back to Europe but you know… got to take what I am offered.“

Her voice was unusually quiet like she herself was worried about what would be coming next in her career. Or if anything would be coming next.

You looked back at her again and were surprised to find a fine line between her eyebrows. More evidence that she had thought about this topic more than once too.

You took a deep breath: “Yes, I know… I thought maybe I could join you wherever you will go next.“

There was silence on Ana Marias side. She blinked at you for a moment. “You’re ready to potentially leave Spain?”

“Y-yes.“, you nodded. You hated the way your voice trembled. You were absolutely sure about that decision. You loved Spain but you loved being with your girlfriend a lot more.

She reached across the table, wrapping your hand into her own with a gentle smile: “Okay. We can see if we find a team that takes us both.“

You found the courage to smile back at her: “Alright.“

“I think that sounds like we have a deal. Cheers to that.“

She lifted her glass, clinking it against yours.

“Cheers.“

Relief washed over you, leaving you with a warm calmness. The past few months doing long-distance across two continents had been hard. Ana Marias absence in your shared apartment in Barcelona had haunted you more than you liked to admit.

“Shit, the food!”, your girlfriend suddenly called out. Before you knew what was going on, she jumped out of her chair and pulled the pan from the stove top.

You followed her, taking a look at the food and sighed when you saw that it hadn’t burned yet: “Just in time.“

“That was lucky.”, the Swiss player whistled, clearly relived seeing the dinner being unscathed.

With an amused twinkle in her eyes Anna Maria added. “You want to try it?”

A little moan escaped your lips after you took the first bite. Blushing you pressed a hand to your mouth. “Still tastes delicious.”, you confirmed smiling sheepishly.

Your girlfriends’ eyes had wandered off to the refrigerator where Mateos latest masterpiece was hanging.

“That’s from Mateo.”, you explained beaming proudly.

“He’s gotten so good at drawing. It’s very impressive.”, the blonde observed with a pinch of hurt in her voice.

You silently agreed.

“Please videocall me next time you babysit him.”, she wished.

“Oh, he’ll love that, Mateo misses you almost as much as I do.”, you confessed to her.

“You two are the cutest.”, Ana Maria chirmed, kissing your cheek lovingly. The older woman paused for a moment before continuing. “What would you like to do next?”

“You mean after dinner?”, you returned the question smirking.

“Yes, I mean I’ve to keep you as entertained as Mateo does.”, she insisted, a grin playing on her lips.

“There are many ways to entertain me. When you were in Seattle what did you want to do with me?”, you asked curiously.

“You want to know what I actually missed the most?”, the Swiss woman lifted an eyebrow playfully.

“Yes.”

“Cuddle under the sheets and watch a movie.”, Ana Maria admitted.

It was true when she awoke after a sleepless night in her bed in Seattle and the worries about her future were too heavy on her shoulders, she craved you laying next to her, telling her that everything would be alright.

“This sounds like the perfect ending to this evening if you ask me.”, you replied earnestly. You loved your team, but with a lot of them being in a relationship with a teammate made you feel a little lonely knowing that no one will wait for you when your home.

“I hoped you’d say that.”

“Come on, I’ll light some candles and turn on the fairly lights in the bedroom.”, you guided her softly to your bedroom.

“Perfect. I’m coming.”, Ana Maria hummed excitedly.

While you both had settled underneath the blanket, you put your head on to her chest. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

“I missed this.”, she said, her hand stroking your hair soothingly. To your girlfriend nothing felt more like home as you. Only the Swiss seas and alps were almost close so was her family. Spanish was her romantic language, the way to your lovers’ heart.

You inhaled her delicious scent, your eyes slowly falling, already half asleep.

“Buenas noches mi amor.”, Ana Maria whispered.

“Tú también.”

The next morning, you were woken up by the sun beams falling through the window onto your face. As you turned to Ana Maria, you realized that she was still sleeping peacefully, her body fully relaxed next to yours. You immediately knew that similar to you, she was having the best sleep she had in months.

With a smile, you peeled the sheets off of yourself and climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her up. With bare feet, you snuck into your kitchen to make breakfast. The coffee brewed on the side while you got started on the pancakes, determined to prove your girlfriend that you got better at making them.

You usually served your pancakes with powdered sugar and syrup but you knew Ana Maria liked hers with jam, so you arranged all of the toppings on a tray with the pancakes and the coffee to carry it over to the bedroom.

Your girlfriend blinked awake as you walked in, taking in the smell of breakfast that filled your apartment.

“Good morning.“, you smiled.

Ana Maria yawned: “Good morning. You made pancakes?”

“I did.“, you confirmed with the tiniest bit of pride.

“And they’re not burned?”, she asked with a laugh.

You shrugged slightly and set the tray down on the bed: “You need to try them.“

As you slipped under the covers again, Ana Maria tore a piece of the first pancake and chewed on it. “Oh wow, they’re delicious.“, she finally agreed.

You grinned at her: “See? I got better.“

“You did.“

There was a moment of comfortable silence as you both dug in before the pancakes could get cold.

You felt Ana Maria stop next to you and as you looked up, she stared at you.

You frowned at her: “What?”

“Wait.“, she said, her hand reaching out to remove some jam from the corner of your mouth.

You could feel the heat rise into your cheeks.

“Oh thanks.“, you laughed.

“You’re welcome.“

“You know what I missed? Those lazy mornings.“, you told her, biting you lip.

Ana Maria nodded slowly: “Me too. And I can’t wait to have more of those with you soon.“

“Same.“, you beamed and held up your coffee cup so Ana Maria could clink hers against it in a toast.

Maybe this was only for now but you decided to see this morning as a taste of your future together.

[matts-girlfriend]

Breakfast In Bed - Matt Sturniolo

(english isn’t my first language)

Warnings : Angst

This is heavily based on this song

Part 2

It had been days since the breakup. Maybe weeks. Honestly, I had no idea anymore. Time blurred together when all I did was lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, drowning in the same thoughts on repeat. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, it was like he was still here—like if I just reached out far enough, I’d find him next to me.

You said that you love me

Isn’t that lovely

Because loving Matt was all I had ever known.

Since kindergarten, when we’d share crayons and pinky-promise to be best friends forever. Since middle school, when we got stuck in our ugly phases at the same time, all braces and bad haircuts. Since Year 9, when we finally stopped pretending and made it official.

Tangled in sheets

Strawberry fields

It was always supposed to be Matt and me.

Being with him was the easiest thing in the world. It was waking up to breakfast in bed, sneaking out at 2 a.m. for McDonald’s, slow-dancing in my room to songs that weren’t even romantic, but they felt like they were when we were together. His family had become my second family—his younger triplet brother, Chris, constantly annoying me like he was my actual brother, and his older triplet, Nick, acting like my own personal life coach. It wasn’t just about me and matt. It was all of them.

You promised me pancakes

For all of my Sundays

And I guess in some way

I got that still

And then YouTube happened.

At first, it was harmless—just Matt and his brothers messing around with a camera, filming challenges and vlogs, hoping to make something out of it. I thought it was cute. I was proud of them. I watched every video, liked every post, supported them every chance I got.

But then things started changing.

Just like you said

I’m eating breakfast in bed

Ever since you left

I’ll never love again

I’ll never love again

Slowly, so slowly I barely noticed at first.

A missed date here. A last-minute cancellation there. Him leaving in the middle of dinner because “I need to film, I promise i’ll make it up to you soon.” I told myself it was fine. I told myself I understood. But the more it happened, the more it hurt. The more it felt like I was losing him.

We graduated, and it should’ve been the start of something new for us. But instead, it was the beginning of the end. They hit a million subscribers. The dream was real now. And I was happy for him—I really was. But when I hugged him that day, I could feel it.

The distance.

Then, one night, I got the text.

“I’m so sorry to do this over text, but I can’t be with you anymore. I love you more than anything, truly, but for my career, I need to take this step.”

Swear I’ll die in this room

I can’t even move

I’ll never love again

I’ll never love again

I stared at my phone, my chest tightening, my whole body going numb.

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Not like this.

I started typing, my hands shaking. Begging him to talk to me, to tell me what I had done wrong, to tell me how to fix it. But none of my messages sent.

Blocked.

Just like that, five years together—fifteen years of knowing each other—gone.

All I got was a text.

And I completely broke.

I stopped leaving my room. Stopped eating. My mom started leaving food by my bed, her voice soft when she told me she was worried, that I needed to take care of myself. But I couldn’t. Everything felt dull. Pointless. Like the world had drained of all its color, and I was stuck in this constant ache in my heart of everything and nothing at the same time.

Black coffee’s gone cold

Just like my soul

The stains on my T-shirt

Are eleven days old

I just lay there, wasting away, replaying it all.

What could’ve been.

What should’ve been.

What would never be.

I miss you like hell

I’m spoilt like milk

If you saw me right now

You’d run for the hills

I wondered if he ever thought about me. If he ever regretted it. If he ever stared at the ceiling at night and felt like something was missing.

Just like you said

I’m eating breakfast in bed

Ever since you left

I’ll never love again

I’ll never love again

But I already knew the answer.

He had the whole world now. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

I closed my eyes, gripping the sheets tighter, wishing I could just disappear.

I made myself take a bite of the cold breakfast that had been sitting on my desk for hours, as my mind drifted.

Wondering was any of it real

How come you don’t feel the way I feel?

I didn’t lie, I didn’t cheat or kill

So, why is this my death-row meal?

part 2??

(divider by @bernardsbendystraws )

[vampyrial]

Sugar

summary: cooking for someone is the sweetest expression of love.

pairing: mark grayson x gn!reader

content warnings: soft yan!reader, poisoning, gaslighting, caretaking, fluffy if you ignore that reader is a lil crazy

author’s note: I never posted this here but in honor of s2 of invincible, here’s this fic I wrote after s1 😵‍💫 my first mark fic

Mark remembered his mom making pancakes on the weekends. It was his favorite breakfast when he was a kid. There was less time for sit down breakfasts as he grew older and spent more time outside the house working, going to school or hanging out with William, it remained a nostalgic thing for him. The smell of butter, the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot pan, he hadn’t realized he missed it.

Not until he woke up to the clattering of pans downstairs. Debbie was out for the day already, busying herself with work. As of late, the house had become stifling and she felt ill at ease. Mark was mostly left to his own devices for food and Mark being Mark, mostly subsisted on take out.

You had slept over (in the guest room, per Debbie’s request) and woken up early to make breakfast. Into the dry ingredients, you added a vial of powder as white as flour. You sprinkled it all in, hand inside the bowl, careful not to let it spill anywhere. You mixed carefully. With a focus as complete as ever, batter dropped onto the pan, sizzling. 

“Making breakfast?” His voice almost made you jump. You thought you were used to him sneaking up on you.

“Good morning to you too, Mark” You smiled to yourself, not looking up at him. “And yes, I’m making you pancakes.”

You didn’t look up but you could tell he was surprised by the pause and the awkward shift of his silhouette.

“I didn't…I know I only eat out these days but I don’t need you to cook for me, I feel kind of like an asshole watching you cook for me in my own house” He mumbled, looking away.

“I know I don’t need to, I want to. I’d feel better if you didn’t eat pizza everyday for breakfast.” 

“It’s not everyday, just…most of the time” He was embarrassed you’d noticed. “Are you not gonna have some?” He changed the topic. 

“I had four bowls of captain crunch at 5am, I’m not exactly sure more sugar is a good idea for me right now.”

You flipped the pancakes onto a plate, sliced a pat of butter onto the top and poured the syrup. Mark, even in his quest to be somewhat gentlemanly, could not resist. The first bite of the buttery pancakes drenched in the syrup evoked strong feelings. Longing, gratitude and love. The yearning for an innocence abandoned and the feeling of being loved was so strong he could cry.

Mark, like most teenage boys, could eat. You silently kept cooking pancakes and he kept eating them. It was a lovely morning, the air was sweet and the sky was a vibrant blue. You spent the day in Mark’s room, in pajamas, tracing shapes over his skin with your fingertips as you watched a marathon of movies he liked. He eagerly explained every gag and bit of trivia. But as the sky began to darken with the day’s end, Mark’s energy declined.

He was sluggish and he felt a bit warm. When he insisted he was alright, you still stayed by his side. A comfort he was secretly grateful for. Even when Debbie came home, fatigued, you kindly asserted that you would stay up with Mark and watch over him. It was only right, Debbie already had enough to deal with and she fussed over Mark until the early hours. If there was anyone she could trust Mark to, it would be you, just while she got some sleep at least.

You wiped the sweat from Mark’s brow with a gentle hand. You brought him water and aspirin, you rubbed his tender muscles, you changed his sheets soaked by sweat. Mark felt like shit but knowing you were there, unperturbed by his frequent vomiting, was a comfort beyond words. You even slept in the same bed as him now, holding his hand, rubbing over it with your fingers. He felt like a kid again, cared for and safe.

Even though after more than a week, Debbie wanted to bring him to the hospital, you waved away her concerns. “Part of this might be coming from Mark’s emotional state after what happened, maybe we have grief to blame for this, in part. Mark doesn’t need a hospital, his symptoms aren’t worse than the stomach flu, he just needs to be cared for” you had said, so convincingly, so knowingly, that it made her hesitate. You only had his best interests at heart. Mark even spoke up and said he didn’t need to go to the hospital. He had been in the hospital so often, he was sick of it. Even the memory of the strong antiseptic smell brought a sense of dread. He would rather be with you, at home being touched by your familiar, healing, hands.

He loved you so much, and told you as much very often. When you were showering with him, washing him because he was too winded; your wet, warm skin carefully cleaning his, he murmured ‘I love you.’ He was vulnerable, tender, worn and tired but he was certain of one thing. He couldn’t live without your warmth. Everyone else counted on him, they needed something from him and if he failed to deliver he’d be letting them down. It’d be another fuck up to add to the roster and yet another time someone he loved would look at him like a loser. But with you, he felt the closest thing to unconditional love he had ever experienced from anyone besides his mom. You didn’t care who he decided to help or what he messed up, you would always accept him. Even if you weren’t always pleased with what he did, you never judged him harshly for his mistakes. For his wins or his fails, you loved him. Mark thought it was way more than he deserved and part of him really did regret his actions more in the face of your forgiveness. He did feel like such an asshole when he found comfort in your acceptance, when you consoled him as if he really deserved it. But fuck if he didn’t need it.

He obviously couldn’t rush off saving people like he had, so he stayed safely inside. His world was small and manageable. His body was whole, if aching and feverish. That was what you intended. For Mark to be safe. He was always putting himself in danger like it didn’t matter, running off to save the world like no one else. Sometimes he would come back intact and sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes he was a hair’s breadth away from death. But Mark didn’t want to stay put, you weren’t strong enough to protect him directly and you couldn’t order him to. What were you to do?

A bit of poison wouldn’t do him in, in fact, you were certain it wouldn’t even keep him down very long. But buying even this amount of time was a blessing. You wanted to keep him safe, keep him inside forever if that’s what it took but that wouldn’t work. For now, you were just buying a little time and some peace of mind. You tell yourself you were driven to this.

A few days later, Mark’s strength had recovered somewhat. You fed him soup and he kept all of it down. He was relieved to be recovering even though he would miss being babied by you and Debbie’s worries eased meaning you were safe from her suspicion. He went back to school, back to saving the world eventually. You waited until enough time passed. Until you could return things to how they should be.

The moment came six months later, the previous night you two had been out with William and Eve. He’d rushed off to the city with Eve while you were in the middle of eating at some greasy pizza joint. Your heart fluttered as you gazed at the empty space next to you in the booth. At least Eve was with him, though it was a poor consolation. They were fighting the same aliens they were overwhelmed by a few weeks ago. He came home in one piece, thankfully, but he had been fighting so much lately. Cecil asked so much of him, he’d been flying off to this and that attack. He was bound to be hurt again soon, even just that month there had been threats he’d barely escaped from. It was your misfortune to fall in love with a hero, it meant that he would never really be safe and neither would you.

You called Mark to sleep over at yours when he came back that night. Your mother worked late or sometimes, simply didn’t want to come home so the house was yours. The two of you watched mafia movies, argued about whether the godfather was overrated or not and ate an ungodly amount of popcorn. The following morning, you cooked a big breakfast, muffins, bacon, omelets. Pancakes. 

He ate so hungrily it hurt your heart. He truly did love your cooking. Even though Debbie had gradually started making dinner for him again months ago, he had really missed your cooking. It wasn’t that her’s wasn't delicious, it was just…there was something that made him warm inside about the idea that you should make something for him. That you thought about him, cared about him enough. That much effort wasn’t necessarily a given in a high school relationship. It was new and nice to be with someone who showed their love for him so frankly.

You watched him eat with such a sweet look on your face. You ate with him, an omelette and bacon, for the sake of appearance. Planned out in anticipation of Mark’s tastes and in the interest of keeping suspicion to a minimum, you added your remedy to both the muffins and the pancakes. The muffins had less of it, as you knew Mark would be likely to eat more pancakes than muffins but if he chose to forgo that for the opposite, he would still be made ill. You even had plans for the unlikely event that he chose to eat neither. But Mark wasn’t rude enough to pass up food made for him by someone he loves.

Shortly after breakfast, Mark was in the bathroom vomiting. It seemed far more likely that the pizza joint with the sticky seats and chain smoking cooks gave him food poisoning than anything having been wrong with your food. In his head, it didn’t even occur to him. When you helped him into bed, he felt grateful that he was with you. It was such a relief not to say that he was fine, not to have to be brave. Nobody cared for him as gently as you did. 

Your sheets and your pillows smelled like you. Mark felt weird smelling your things but it was nice to be surrounded by comfort. You washed him in your soap so he smelled like you too. He couldn’t have wanted you more in that moment, he wanted your skin against yours. He wanted your voice, the brush of your fingertips against his. When he was well, he wanted to be someone you would be proud to be with. To be that hero you deserve. When he was this sick, he still had that desire lingering somewhere in the background but he melted down into the barest of wants. And what remained was a need for you, an uncomplicated desire. He felt as if he’d dissolve into your mattress if he couldn’t feel you.

“I’m right here, Mark” You murmured, cleaning the sweat from his chest with a cloth. You have such gentle hands, your eyes stay on his to make sure you’re not hurting him. Under your loving attention, a few tears roll down Mark’s cheek. He can’t help it, you’re always there for him. Without you, who does he have to lean on like this? His mom was already a wreck, Eve had her own problems, William had no idea how to deal with something as big as what he went through — he doesn’t even know how to deal with it. He cannot live without you, who doesn’t understand what he went through but understands what he needs better than anyone.

“What’s the matter? Does something hurt?” You asked, panicked at his tears. Mark didn’t cry easily, you hadn’t meant to put him in so much pain he’d cry. You had added just enough, you always operated on that balance. Just enough pain, just enough sickness, just enough time.

“No, it’s just-” Mark’s voice was raw. “I’m glad I’m with you, that’s all.”

You softened. Hearing him say that made you melt into a puddle of sticky sweet syrup. It only strengthened your resolve and you were overcome with the need to keep him safe. And with the knowledge that if something happened to him, you would die. When the savage, gruesome fight happened, your stomach was in knots for days while you heard no news. Your heart squeezed painfully as if you were going to have a heart attack and it went on for days. When you slept to escape the constant anxiety, you had nightmares. You didn’t even go to school, you couldn’t get out of bed for anything other than checking whether or not he’d come home. For weeks you lived in hell, thinking you would lose him. And although he was alright that time, a piece of that moment lived in you every time he flew off toward danger. 

“I love you so much, Mark” You bowed your head and rested it against his chest, hearing his strong heart beating. You pressed a kiss there, along the contours of his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you too” He mumbled weakly. There couldn’t be anything sweeter than you.

Your love was falling over him like powdered sugar. These moments, without knowing it, he had come to need them. Being sick was the only time he was allowed to fully be human. No one needed or expected anything of him. Under your care, he could be briefly vulnerable. 

That was all you needed to ease that inkling of guilt that rose in the back of your mind. Who was protecting him like he protected everyone else? No one but you. It was why you had to resort to using underhanded methods, if everyone was trying to protect him, if they only cared — you wouldn’t need to. That was what you reasoned, anyway.

Mark needed you, anyone with eyes could see that. And you had no intention of abandoning him. Whatever you had to do, in your eyes it was all the desperation of a powerless human trying to save the man they love. It was romantic, even. You anticipated the moment where Mark might put two and two together. It made you anxious and you had practiced the speech you’d give him a thousand times. “I love you and I’m scared. I’m so scared for you. I always am." But you soothed yourself with the knowledge that Mark would understand, above anyone else, you’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

Because Mark knew what he needed, even if it was something he couldn’t have expressed on his own. Even if it was something that he shouldn’t. He was only human — even if he was half viltrumite — could he really deny your feelings and his own? No. Not when you were his saving grace. How could he not understand what you were trying to do when his sentiments were nearly the same?

You were watching Mark sleep, laying next to him, his arm around you. His skin was warm and his breaths were labored. You reassured yourself as you pulled the blanket up to his chest. You would take good care of him, he knew that. He had to, he had to know. He just had to.

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the monster

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy. You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

Summary: so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

Rating: general, slight violence and a lot of cursing though

Warnings: blood, fem!reader, use of y/n, use of the word "queer" in a negative way, steve being an asshole

Words: 8.1k

Before you swing in: hey guys ! sorry for the delay in updates. finals season took me OUT and then life kinda happened and suddenly i was hiding out from my roommate turned middle school bully ??? idek. anyways, here's chapter 6 which features the iconic alley scene and some very sentimental stevexreaderxjonathan scenes (theyre a mess). enjoy !

-

“Geesh, you’re not a sleeping beauty.”

Dustin’s face greets you when you open your eyes. He’s hovering over you as the morning light streams through your curtains with a determined glint in his eyes. 

“What–?” Your brain hasn’t caught up with what’s going on quite yet, still half asleep. 

“Wake up! I’m going to Mike’s so we can all talk about yesterday and I promised to keep you updated, so… Here’s me updating you.” 

Hearing Mike’s name is what causes you to fully wake up. Mike. The Wheeler’s. Nancy. Steve seeing Jonathan with her on her bed. You quickly sit up and knock your head against Dustin’s, causing the boy to yelp.

“Ow! What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” you say, rubbing your head as your brother glares at you. “Wasn’t intentional, honest. Can you wait like twenty minutes so I can get ready? I wanna come with, I think Jonathan spent the night there and I need to talk to him.” 

Your brother frowns. “Why would Jonathan spend the night at Mike’s?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it.” You say, hoping it’ll be enough of an explanation for him.

Dustin studies you for a moment and you really hope that last night’s events aren’t written all over your face. Somehow, everyone seems to know what you’re thinking and feeling before you even do. 

“Fine,” he concedes, but as he leaves your room he calls over his shoulder, “I’m taking the last of mom’s pancakes though!”

You flop back onto your bed, throw a pillow over your face, and groan. Looks like you’re stuck with a banana for breakfast again. 

When you eventually manage to make your way into the bathroom and shower, your bones ache from pure exhaustion. As the warm water runs over your body, you’re not quite sure if the ache is more emotional or physical. Probably a mix of both. 

You can’t remember how you made it home last night, but slowly it comes back to you in flashes. 

Steve and his wonderful boyishness that has become a breath of fresh air to you. The way he greeted you so excitedly, how he had been worried about Nancy.

Nancy, who you had left alone with Jonathan because of your own pathetic feelings. The girl Steve Harrington is obviously in love with. The same girl Jonathan, your Jonathan, is beginning to fall in love with. 

Then you remember the hurt in Steve’s eyes when he saw Nancy and Jonathan together on her bed. The water suddenly burns and you gasp out in pain and adjust the temperature. 

You know that Jonathan would never do something like that, try to get with someone in a relationship, but lately it’s felt like you don’t really know him like you used to. 

Distantly you remember what Steve had said to you, how he’d seemed so hurt on your behalf, that Jonathan had “everything he could possibly want” when it came to you. Steve claimed you deserved better. You vividly remember that part, the way he said it with such certainty and sincerity that it had made your heart stutter for a brief moment. 

Dustin’s pounding on the bathroom door breaks you from your thoughts. “Dude, hurry up!”

You yell at him that you’ll be out in a second and nearly slip and die as you hurry to get out of the shower. For someone who swore last night not to let stupid boy drama not get in the way of finding Will, you’re really bad at doing it. 

As soon as you’re dressed and ready, you and Dustin bike to the Wheeler’s.

Mrs. Wheeler, as usual, answers the door and lets the two of you in. Dustin heads towards the basement door, but before he goes down you tap on his hat to stop him. 

“Remember what we talked about last night, okay? Friendship, it’s always worth it.” You tell him, and he gives you a nervous smile. He thanks you, takes a deep breath, and then heads downstairs. 

Once Dustin leaves you make your way upstairs towards Nancy’s room. You haven’t been there in years, so you secretly hope you’re remembering the Wheeler’s layout correctly. With every step you take closer to the girl’s room, your heart pounds within your chest. You feel the same wave of nausea that you felt last night. 

When you reach her door, you take a deep breath, just like Dustin had earlier, and will yourself to knock. You’re not sure what you’ll find on the other side of the door, or if you even want to know, but you remind yourself that you’re doing this for Will. 

It’s all for Will. 

You hear rustling in Nancy’s room after you knock, followed by a quiet “hide!” and a loud thud that you presume to be Jonathan. In another life you’d laugh at the situation, but hearing their frantic hiding only makes your nausea worse. 

“It’s just me,” you say through the door, somehow managing to find your voice. It’s weak and frail, but they seem to hear you regardless. 

“Y/N!” Nancy sighs in relief when she opens the door. “God, I thought you were my mom.”

“Bug?” You hear Jonathan’s inquisitive voice, and when you poke your head into the room you see half of his body wedged underneath Nancy’s bed. He gives you a sheepish wave and you find yourself suppressing a laugh. 

You let yourself into the room. “Great hiding place, bee. Mr. Wheeler would definitely never find you there.”

Nancy’s eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, we didn’t– it’s not like that, I promise. Jonathan was gonna sleep on the ground, but I was scared and I guess we just… Yeah.” 

You notice the way she desperately avoids your eyes, almost as if out of guilt. Jonathan is no better, his head ducked in shame as he also can’t quite reach your eyes. When he finally manages to, his smile is a hesitant one. “Her bed wasn’t the same as the bean bag, bug.” 

His words are meant to be a sort of peace offering between the two of you, you know this by the way Jonathan’s voice is soft and unsure. He knows he’s crossed an unspoken line between the two of you, and you’re too tired to argue. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t.” You offer him your hand, which he gladly accepts, and you help him up from underneath Nancy’s bed. 

Nancy watches the two of you and the way you immediately fall back into your comfortable familiarity together. Jonathan stands slightly in front of you as he always does, he hasn’t let go of your hand just yet. You stroke your thumb across his fingers that are interlocked with yours. 

She clears her throat, sits down on her bed, and motions for you to join. “So, I guess you’re here for a reason.”

You gently remove Jonathan’s hand from yours and sit next to Nancy while he’s left to awkwardly stand before the two of you. “Well, yeah. You guys kinda disappeared on me last night.”

Nancy and Jonathan exchange an uneasy look, which only leaves you feeling uneasy as well. Jonathan walks over to her side so that now he’s standing behind her as she sits on the bed. “I’m sorry, bug. It’s just… well, last night was fucking terrifying.” 

“What happened?” You ask, now discarding your confusing feelings. Out of habit you find yourself scanning over their bodies for any injuries, just in case the two of them need any care. 

“The monster… we found him.” Nancy whispers. She tries to explain more, but the memories seem to come crashing back and she shudders. Without thinking, you grab her hand and try to steady her nerves; she smiles.

Jonathan sees Nancy’s fear and steps in to explain. “After you left yesterday, we searched the woods like we planned. We walked around for hours and found nothing, but then we found a dying deer and before we could kill it…” 

“Something dragged it into the woods.” Nancy finishes. 

You hold your breath, now very relieved you hadn't joined them last night.

Jonathan continues. They’d been separated as they looked for the deer and suddenly he could hear Nancy screaming for help, but no matter where he ran he couldn’t seem to find her. 

“I followed the sound of her voice, it was like she was right there, but she wasn’t.” 

Nancy sits stoically next to you, her eyes have glazed over. You feel horrible for her, and you vaguely remember something that Dustin had told you about the Vale of Shadows

The Vale of Shadows is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it.

Slowly you piece it together. “Nancy, could you hear Jonathan, too?” 

She nods. “I was in the woods, but I wasn’t… I don’t know, it was– it was different there. Cold, I remember it was cold.” 

“And it was just like home?”

“What…” Nancy looks even more scared now. “How did you know that?”

You glance at Jonathan, worried that what you’re about to say will cause a reaction. “Will said the same thing when El was able to communicate with him.”

“Wait a minute,” Jonathan interrupts. “Nancy was in the… the Upside, or whatever Mike and them call it?”

“The Upside Down,” you confirm.

Nancy shudders once more. “I think that the monster lives there, feeding on that deer. So if Will and Barbara are there…” 

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand what she’s getting at. Anything that feeds on something as big as a deer is fucking terrifying. If Will and Barb are really stuck in that dimension with the monster, then all your cautioning towards Dustin about getting his hopes up makes you feel ill. 

Will and Barb are basically trapped in that monster’s hunting ground. 

“My mom said she talked to Will.” Jonathan reminds the two of you. “And Y/N, the boys claim that El can still find him wherever he is. If he’s alive, there’s a chance that Barbara is, too.”

“He’s right, Nancy.” 

Nancy shakes her head. “But that means she’s trapped in that place.” 

“Look, this may not sound reassuring, but we have El and the boys. They’re smarter than the three of us combined.” Nancy and Jonathan look at you like you’re insane. “I know they’re young, but they’ve uncovered more than we have within the same amount of time. They’re the reason why we know about the Upside Down, and as we speak I’m more than certain that they’re out there right now trying to find a gate to the Upside Down.”

You take a deep breath. “Now, do I think they’ll find it? Absolutely. But do I fear they’ll find something even worse along the way? Also absolutely. But right now we need to focus on finding the damn thing so we can kill it and protect the kids in the meantime. If we do this right, we can eliminate any possible threat so that when the boys inevitably find another way into the Upside Down, we can just walk in and save Will and Barb.” 

While Jonathan still looks at you like you’re crazy, Nancy clenches her jaw and nods at you. “We have to find it again.” 

Despite how obviously terrified she still is, Nancy’s bravery impresses you. In a way, you suppose that Mike gets his unyielding loyalty from her, which if someone had told you that last week, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

But now? 

You’re relieved to have someone like Nancy Wheeler in your life, even if her presence has created some issues that you never would’ve thought possible. For better or for worse, she’s fiercely loyal and determined, just like you. 

Jonathan studies Nancy, clearly still worried about what she went through last night. “You wanna go back out there?”

The thought of her going back into the Upside Down makes you nervous. “Do we necessarily have to send Nancy back there? Can’t we just like, I don’t know, summon the thing? It clearly likes hunting for food in this dimension.”

“‘Hunting for food…’” Nancy mumbles to herself. She knits her brows together, seemingly drawing some conclusions. “When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer.”

“Poor deer,” you whisper, and Jonathan shakes his head at you to shut up. 

“Meaning it’s… it’s a predator, right?”

“Right.” Jonathan says while you go “Unfortunately.”

Nancy is on a roll now, her usually confident demeanor now back. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a–like a lion or a coyote.” She grabs a textbook that had been discarded on her bed and flips to a page showing other dangerous predators.

“But don’t most predators hunt in packs?” You ask, which has been something on your mind recently. Sure, you know there’s a monster, but how can you be sure there’s only one?

Nancy bites her lip. “Yeah, but for some reason this thing is always alone… like a bear.”

“Honestly, I’d take a bear over whatever the hell we’re dealing with here.” Jonathan once again shakes his head at you, but you wave him off. “Let me lighten the mood, damn.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Nancy smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she continues explaining. “Jonathan, remember at Steve’s, when Barb cut herself?”

For a brief moment you see guilt flash across his face at the mention of that night at Steve’s, the photos he took, and he meets your eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And then, last night, the deer…”

Now you’re beginning to understand. “There was blood, wasn’t there?”

“There was,” Nancy now flips to a page about sharks, which you can’t help but frown at. Maybe you really weren’t following along. She begins to ramble about how sharks can detect the smell of blood from a quarter mile away. 

“I thought I escaped all this science stuff when I tagged along with you guys instead of the boys,” you mumble, trying your best to follow along. 

“The thing can detect blood, bug.” Jonathan clarifies. 

“But it’s just a theory,” Nancy corrects, now turning around so that she can face him. 

They stare at one another, almost as if they’ve now synched together and created a world outside of yours, and once again you feel like there’s no room for you here anymore. 

“We could test it.” Jonathan says, still staring deeply into her eyes. “But if it works…”

“At least we’ll know it’s coming.” 

You notice how Nancy leans in close to Jonathan, more than she once did before, as if he’s her only source of support after what happened last night. In a way, you suppose that now he is. He was the only one there last night when the monster almost got her; they went through something horrible together. 

Something that creates a bond like no other. 

Suddenly Nancy’s door rattles, causing you to jump in her bed while she grabs for Jonathan’s hand. You don’t hear the exchange between her and her mom, too busy reeling over the fact that Jonathan’s fingers are interlocked with hers. 

Jonathan, the boy so against physical touch that the only person he lets hold his hand is you, which took almost a year of friendship to even make him comfortable with. Now here he is, holding Nancy’s hand after only a few days. 

Your heart hurts. 

You know it’s pathetic to be so upset over a natural reaction. Nancy has been through something traumatic and Jonathan had been the one there for her, so naturally she reached out for him. While you know it doesn’t mean anything, it still fucking hurts. You’ve always been secretly elated by the fact that you were the only one who received Jonathan’s affection, his forehead kisses and hair ruffles and his hugs. 

Holding his hand has become second nature to you, long familiar now with the way his fingers feel between yours. 

And now they’re between Nancy’s. 

“Y/N? You still with us?”

Nancy waves a hand in front of your face, and suddenly you’re aware of how long you’ve been staring at the two of them. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m here… still here.” 

“You alright, bug?” Jonathan asks, now a bit worried about you. 

“Peachy!” You try desperately to make your voice light, but the nausea that hasn’t left you since last night once again threatens to make you sick. “Enough about me, though. What I’m hearing is that we need to buy some monster hunting supplies. I mean, unless we plan on beating it with my humor.”

You wink at them, and while Nancy seems reassured by your bravado, Jonathan knows better. He raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head and you know he’s asking what’s really going on? and all you can do is shake your head in a please don’t ask any more questions or I will sob right here right now way that only he can understand. 

Nancy doesn’t notice this exchange and instead gets up from her bed. “Well, if we’re going shopping for supplies then I should get ready. Y/N, I’m sure my mom will give you some pancakes if you ask.”

Right on cue, your stomach rumbles. “Thank God she loves me. I’ll smuggle some up for you, bee.” 

He thanks you before you and Nancy exit the room. She heads for the bathroom while you make your way downstairs.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d gone upstairs!” Mrs. Wheeler greets you and immediately you’re handed a steaming plate of homemade blueberry pancakes. 

Mr. Wheeler huffs. “Do we have to feed the entire neighborhood?”

“Good morning to you too, Ted.” 

The man glares at you as you thank Mrs. Wheeler for the food. You make up a quick lie about working on an assignment with Nancy and that you’d prefer to eat in her room so you can finish up an equation you’d been in the middle of. 

“So, may I bring it upstairs?”

“Well…” Mrs. Wheeler purses her lips, not too keen on the idea. 

You give her your best and most parent pleasing smile. “I promise I’ll be careful, not a drop of blueberry will get anywhere. Scout’s honor!”

“Oh, alright. But please tell Nancy that this will only be a one time thing”

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.”

You leave her alone with a grumbling Mr. Wheeler and a fussy Holly.

–

Nancy is still in the bathroom when you return and Jonathan is awkwardly sitting on her bed, looking around the room as if he’s in some foreign land. 

“Ya know, I’ve never been in a girl’s room before.”

“Gee, thanks.” You scoff at him, setting the plate of pancakes down on Nancy’s desk before digging in. You’re starving. 

“That’s not what I meant, bug.” He flashes an apologetic smile. “Your room is just… Well, it’s not very girly, is it?”

If you hadn’t promised Mrs. Wheeler you’d be careful with the food upstairs, you would’ve thrown a piece of pancake at Jonathan’s face. “Dude, shut up.”

“Shit, sorry.” He makes his way over to the desk and wraps his arms around you as he always does. “What I meant is that this room is so pink, while yours has more comics than I can count.” 

“Don’t forget Spidey posters,” you say with a mouthful of food while simultaneously handing a piece to him. “Anyways, I like pink. I think this room is lovely, honestly. I wanted to paint mine this color when we first moved, but Dustin said if I painted the room pink then he’d never hang out with me in there. Alas, I forfeited.” 

Jonathan laughs and accepts the pancake. “Him and the boys have you wrapped around their little fingers. You know that, right?”

You lean against him, relishing in the feeling of his strong chest against your back. “Mmm, I know. I’m a sucker for those idiots.”

Jonathan tightens his hold around you and draws you deeper into his chest. “I know, it’s what I love the most about you.”

His words are like ice against your skin and suddenly his arms feel suffocating around you. 

You clear your throat and lean forward to lessen his hold on you. “Right, well. You just love it because they listen to me and you can round them up better when I’m around.”

“It’s not just because of that, bug.” Jonathan draws you in again and you’re too weak to fight it. He rests his chin against your head. “I love how you love those around you.” 

The air has become thick between the two of you. 

The way you love people terrifies me, Jonathan’s words from a few days ago echo within your head.

So what’s the truth? Why is he saying all of this?

“Bee,” you bring your hands up and hold onto the arms that are still securely around you. You’re not sure what exactly you want to say, how to explain the warmth you feel for him that simmers within you when he says your name or the way it turns into a furious boil when he looks at Nancy like she’s the damn moon. “You promised you’d call last night.” 

“I know–”

“I was worried about you.”

“And then I ditched you.”

“Again, might I add.”

You put her first, you think.

Jonathan sighs and places a kiss against your hair. “I know.” 

A tense silence follows. Mrs. Wheeler’s wonderful pancakes now taste like cement in your mouth. God, you wish things could go back to how things once were. You miss when Jonathan could wrap his arms around you and the weight of it wasn’t so crushing with all its unspoken implications. 

“I’m sorry, bug. I really, really am sorry.” His voice is strained and he tightens his hold even more, as if to remind himself that you’re still there with him. “I was so scared last night, and had you been the one taken instead of Nancy…”

“But I wasn’t. She was.” You try to keep any emotion out of your voice. 

“I know… I just, I had to make sure she was okay. I promise that nothing else happened. You know that right? Just, please tell me you believe me.” His voice cracks and you finally turn around to wrap your own arms around him. 

“Bee, of course I believe you.” Your words are muffled against his stomach, but he hears you. He always hears you. 

You understand why he stayed at Nancy’s, you really do. But it doesn’t make the sting of it any less painful. You feel awful about what she experienced last night, no doubt forever traumatized by it, but the bitter taste of no longer having Jonathan all to yourself is something you’re still getting used to. 

“You forgive me?” He asks, so faintly you almost don’t catch it.

You lift your head up and catch Jonathan’s eye. “There’s nothing to forgive, bee.” 

And you mean it.

The smile Jonathan gives you as a response, the smile that has always made your knees weak, is just yet another reason why you can’t ever risk what you have with him. 

– 

This may come as a shock to some, but you’ve never set foot in the army supply store. 

The place makes you uneasy. You’ve never been comfortable around weapons, and like you told Nancy earlier: if it ever came down to it, you’d prefer to use your charm (but mostly your wits) rather than violence. It just isn’t your thing. 

While you and Jonathan wander aimlessly around, Nancy seems to know exactly what you guys need. She begins throwing things into the basket around her arm without hesitating and you exchange a look with Jonathan. Clearly it’s a good thing you’ve wrangled Nancy into this mess. 

You wander some more and break away from the group, eyeing the insane amount of weapons, traps, and knives offered in the store. It’s overwhelming and you realize you have no real idea what you’ll even need. Guns unnerve you, the bat Nancy brought just seems silly to use. So what does that leave you?

Your eyes land on a knife with both its ends extended. Its handle in the center is a polished wood that’s a deep ember and the blades themselves are sterling silver that glisten in the dim store lighting. It’s a beautiful weapon. 

As you reach for it to inspect it, one of the store employees, an older man, walks up behind you. 

“That’s a switchblade. It was donated to us years ago.” You jump at the man’s words and he flashes you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m just more skittish than usual this week.” You’re not sure why you admit this to the man, and when he gives you a curious look you clear your throat and change the topic. “You said this was donated?”

“Oh, yes! Here, have a feel for it.” Before you can stop him, he places the knife in your hands. 

Your fingers skim over the smooth wood and you notice some words engraved in it. The letters are scuffed, presumably from age. “Was there writing on it?”

The old man’s smile becomes a sad one. “The switchblade was from this old man, he made it for his wife and claimed she loved to keep him on her toes. So, he had the word ‘button’ engraved in the handle because–”

“She always pushed his buttons?”

“Yeah,” the man laughs. “That’s exactly what she did.” 

There’s a far off look in the man’s eyes, as if he’s remembering a warm summer day from his childhood; bittersweet and filled with fondness. He reminds you of your grandpa whenever someone brings up your grandma who died when you were young. You roll the blade over in your hands. “You knew the woman, didn’t you?”

“I did, but she’s long gone now,” he confirms, his voice wobbling.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” You reach over and place your hand on his forearm, which he smiles at. 

“Don’t be. Martha would be glad someone like you has her knife, now.” 

You immediately drop your hand and try to give the switchblade back. “Oh, no, I can’t possibly take this–”

“It’s yours. You’re the only one who has paid any attention to it. I’ll show you how to use it if you make me a promise.”

Before you can argue more, Jonathan calls out from a few aisles down. “Bug? Where’d you go?”

“I’ll be there in a second, bee!” You turn back to the man. “What kind of promise are we talking about?”

“Bug and bee? Martha called me birdy because a bird swooped on me the first time I ever met her,” the old man chuckles with affection. “Anyways, promise me that you’ll use this with love. I may own this store, but violence never leaves much room for love.” 

The agreement comes easily to you. “Of course.”

And with that, the old man shows you how to flip the switchblade open. It only takes a simple flick of the wrist for the blade to glide back into the handle in the center, and with another flick they smoothly glide back out once more; the way the blades move in sync leaves you in awe.

“You can use both the blades or only one, but I sense that you know that things are always stronger together.” The old man says, a glint in his eyes as he hands the switchblade back to you. 

You smile at him and try it out yourself; the switchblade fits perfectly in your hand and you’re easily able to get the blades in and out. As you’re admiring the way the blades balance each other out, Jonathan appears by your side. 

“Hey, ready to check out?” 

You nod and thank the old man, who waves you off with a friendly goodbye. 

“Who was that?” Jonathan asks once you’re out of earshot from the man. 

You show him the switchblade. “You remember that theory you had about me attracting old people? You’re gonna love this.”

– 

Nancy plops down bear traps, gasoline, and a multitude of other supplies she acquired while you were off talking to the old store owner. The cashier, a significantly younger looking man, looks at the three of you as if you’re insane. 

“And I’ll have four boxes of the .38s.” Jonathan says, and you flash the employee your award winning smile just in case. You recognize how insane this all looks.

“What are you kids doing with all this?” The employee asks, and you Jonathan both instinctively turn to Nancy for help. 

She shrugs, playing the question off well. “Monster hunting.”

The guy laughs and finishes ringing you guys up before the three of you head out to Jonathan’s car. He’s carrying most of the stuff in a box while you and Nancy start loading the bags into his trunk. You quickly help him with the box once you’ve placed your bags down.

“‘Monster hunting’?” Jonathan teases and Nancy just smirks. 

“How do you think that guy would react if he knew we were telling the truth?” You snort and Jonathan can only shake his head in amusement. 

Nancy laughs and bumps her shoulder against yours. “You know, last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like.” 

Hearing Steve’s name makes you freeze. You completely forgot that Steve had been there with you last night at the Wheeler’s. He had seen Jonathan and Nancy together on her bed. You remember the anger in his eyes and your heart sinks. King Steve would never just let something like that go.

“Hey, uh, Nancy?” You try to interrupt the girl, but she’s too focused on her story.

“It took me and Barb all weekend, it seemed like life or death, you know? And now…”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers and Y/N Henderson.” 

You grab at Nancy’s jacket to try and get her attention, but she only has her eyes set on Jonathan. “Nancy, I have something to tell you–”

“What’s the weirdest part? Me or the bear trap?”

“Guys I really need you to listen right now–” Again they ignore you, lost in their own little world that you still don’t have access to. 

For a moment you wonder if you even should warn them, but you know it’d be wrong not to. You could be imagining it, but your new switchblade almost seems to warm up within your pocket as if to remind you of your promise to the old man. 

Nancy’s eyes shine as she looks at Jonathan and you want to scream. Now is not the fucking time. “You. It’s definitely you.”

You clap your hands in front of their faces, finally breaking the two of them out of their spell. “Hey! Assholes! Trying to save your asses!”

Jonathan bats your hands away from his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve, he, uh…” You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to word this, before a car honks and some creep calls out to Nancy. 

“Can’t wait to see your movie.” The boy laughs, which causes your blood to turn cold. The Hawk movie theater, where Jonathan works… In a twisted way, Steve Harrington is a fucking revenge genius.

“What the hell was that?” You hear Jonathan mumble, but your ears are ringing. 

Nancy turns to you, now with distrust in her eyes. “Steve. You said his name.”

“Nancy–I, I forgot and–” You stumble over your words as the girl’s eyes harden. You didn’t mean for this to happen, you don’t know how you forgot. She doesn’t wait for you to finish whatever the hell you were about to say and starts running after the car. You’re quick to follow after her, already knowing what you’ll find. 

“Where are you guys going?”

“Just come on, Jonathan!” You shout behind you. 

Nancy sees the board before you do and the gasp she lets out makes you want to cry for her. There, in big, ugly red letters on the Hawk’s clapperboard are the words spelling out “All the Right Moves Starring Nancy the Slut Wheeler”. 

It’s an awful, awful fucking thing. 

And it’s Steve’s work, you know it is. 

You hear Jonathan gasp out behind you and you see the crowd that begins to form around the three of you. Everyone stares at Nancy and whispers cruel things about her and it takes everything within you not to cause a scene. How fucking dare they. They have no right. Steve had no fucking right. 

In the midst of your anger you notice the tears beginning to form in Nancy’s eyes and you immediately run over to her side and grab her hand. You pull her into a hug and whisper reassurances, promising her that it’ll all be okay. She lets you hold her and you feel so fucking awful. You should’ve done more to protect her. 

Then, you hear the distinct sound of a spray paint bottle rattling followed by Tommy Hagan’s screech of a laugh. Nancy tears herself from your grasp and runs into the alley where the noise is coming from. You follow after her and see Steve and his gang spraying even more things onto the Hawk walls. 

There’s a steely look in Nancy’s eyes and you worry for a moment that she might hurt someone. It’s not that you don’t think it’s warranted, but you’re sure Jonathan’s boss has already called the cops on the teens and they’ll be here soon. Nancy can’t afford to get into any trouble right now. 

“Nancy, I don’t think you should approach–”

She ignores you and angrily marches over to Steve. 

“Hey there princess!” Carol sneers, and you have to refrain from spitting on her. Right now this is about Nancy, you need to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid and to also ensure she knows that you’re right behind her to support her. She needs to know that you’re here for her. 

“Uh oh, she looks upset.” Tommy teases. When he sees you, he lets out another cackle. “Holy shit, Harrington. You were right! Henderson really is a pathetic push over if she’s here with the girl who slept with her boyfriend!” 

Tommy’s words enrage you and you’re about to just say fuck it to your no violence policy when Steve shuts him up. “Knock it out, Tommy. I told you Henderson’s with us–”

Nancy’s slap catches both you and Steve off guard. Everyone gasps in shock but you start laughing, immensely proud of the girl’s strength. “Nice one, Wheeler.”

She spares you a quick glance before steering her glare back at Steve. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve clenches his jaw. “What’s wrong with me? No, what’s wrong with the two of you?”

“The two of us?” Nancy asks. Steve juts his chin in your direction and she turns around, now more confused and hurt than ever. “What does Y/N have to do with any of this?”

A lump of anxiety forms in your chest. “Nancy, I can explain–”

“I was worried about you,” Steve lets out a bitter laugh and distantly you remember saying those exact words to Jonathan a mere hour ago. You guess you understand the boy more than you may want to. “I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.” 

Nancy opens her mouth to respond but Steve cuts her off, now walking towards you. “And you… I always knew you were too nice for your own good, but defending the girl who stole your boyfriend?” He hovers over you; you can smell his expensive cologne this close as he says his next words so low that they almost come out as a whisper, “well, I expected more from you, Y/N.”

You freeze, overwhelmed with his presence. He lingers, you’ve never been this close to him, his eyes are darker than Jonathan’s and filled with more disappointment than anger. You know he can see right through you in a way that fucking terrifies you; he knows. 

“What are you talking about?” Nancy exclaims, effectively breaking whatever moment was going on between you and Steve. He backs away, his eyes still lingering on yours, before facing Nancy once more. 

Your words catch in your throat, still reeling from your encounter with Steve, so it’s Carol who breaks the silence. “I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

“Don’t call her that,” you manage to say, though you can’t seem to stop looking at Steve, who is looking right back at you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy’s voice alerts you of Jonathan’s arrival. You look up and see what the idiot has written on the wall behind him.

“‘Byers is a perv’? Wow, you guys are geniuses when it comes to insults.” You snort, feeling Jonathan place his hand on the small of your back to steady you. He can sense your anger brewing. 

“It’s okay, bug.” He whispers. You relax a bit into him, but you’re still fuming. Steve watches the interaction with an interest in his eyes that lets you know Jonathan’s tenderness with you has only pissed him off more. 

Steve points at the two of you, looking around at his friends. “Aww, how sweet. You guys see that? Tell me, Henderson. Did he whisper sweet nothings into your ear after he slept with my girlfriend?”

Both Jonathan and Nancy speak at once. He denies you two being together while Nancy now understands that Steve had seen her and Jonathan in her room last night. 

“Henderson and I both, actually.” Steve corrects, and you want to punch him. 

Jonathan turns to you, guilt creeping into his voice. “You saw?”

“Now isn’t really the time, we need to help Nancy–”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Nancy says, looking at Steve and then you. “I promise, Y/N. Nothing happened.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, that’s what Henderson said. You just let him into your room to… study?”

“I was telling the truth.” You grit out, but Steve and the others ignore you.

Tommy steps in front of you and Jonathan. “Or for another pervy photo session?”

Jonathan steps towards the boy but you grab his jacket, not allowing him to go any further. You understand he’s angry, but just like how he won’t let you do anything stupid: you won’t let him, either.

Nancy shakes her head furiously. “We were just–”

“You were just what? Finish that sentence,” Steve steps closer to Nancy now and you find yourself preparing to step between them if needed. “Finish. The. Sentence.” 

The only sound in the alley is the sound of Nancy panting. She can’t think of what to say, what can she even say? Steve won’t believe her regardless. To him, she’s already done the unspeakable and hurt him in the worst way imaginable. You feel for the two of them, no one can possibly win in this situation. 

When Nancy doesn’t say anything, the angry expression on Steve’s face slips for a moment and you see the heartbroken boy underneath his mask. It happens only for a second, but you see it. You know you saw it. 

“Go to hell, Nancy.” He scoffs. 

“Harrington, you don’t mean that.” You say, trying to help him out. He’ll regret burning this bridge with Nancy, you can see how deeply he cares for her. He loves her, even if he can’t admit it. If he walks away now, he could lose her. 

While you’re talking to Steve, Jonathan breaks free from your grasp and pulls Nancy away, which only seems to upset him more. 

“You said yourself that we aren’t friends, Henderson. You don't know me. As for you, Byers, I always took you for a queer. I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father.” 

Steve begins to push Jonathan now, but Jonathan has harshly grabbed your arm to pull you away. He doesn't want you involved in this, you know he just wants to get you and Nancy safely out of the situation, but you resist him anyways and try to push at Steve.

“What, you're gonna help your douche of a boyfriend?” Steve sneers at you, and Jonathan will definitely leave bruises on your arm with how tightly he has to hold you back. “Oh, yeah. That house is full of screw-ups.”

He pushes Jonathan again and this time you manage to spit at his feet. “Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“I’m just telling the truth. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

Jonathan stops now. You do the same. Nancy sees this and urges you to keep walking, but you and him exchange a look. You hate violence, you really do, but the Byers family is your own family. Aside from how protective you are of them, you also know the anger that Jonathan has buried within him. If Steve keeps pushing it, you’re afraid of what Jonathan may do.

“I mean, your mom? I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother.” 

You hate violence. You could never, ever hurt anyone. But you’re starting to feel really fucking close to understanding why people seem to enjoy it. “Leave his mom and Will out of this.” 

Steve ignores you and continues spewing bullshit. Jonathan is tense next to you and it’s only now that you notice his clenched fists and his ragged breathing. Steve has gone too far.

“Steve, shut up!” Nancy begs as you now leave Jonathan’s side to begin pushing Steve back. A fight cannot break out. It’s broad daylight and too risky. You can’t let Jonathan put himself in danger. 

“Harrington, you need to leave.” You urge him as you push against his chest, but he just gently pushes you aside and follows after Jonathan.

“But the Byers?” He keeps hitting Jonathan’s back and you have to use all your weight to pull him away. It’s no use. “Their family, it’s a disgrace to the entire–”

Jonathan’s punch lands perfectly upon Steve’s face.

In any other moment, you’d find the accuracy incredibly hot. 

Instead you push the thoughts aside and rush over to him while Steve regains his composure. “Bee, listen to me. Cops could be here any second, you can’t fight–”

You scream as Steve tackles Jonathan onto the car and then the ground. Nancy begs them to stop and has to wrap her arms around you to keep you out of the fight. The sound of skin hitting skin sickens you. 

“Nancy let me go,” Steve lands another punch on Jonathan and the sound his head makes when it hits the ground causes you to cry out. 

“Y/N, Jonathan wouldn’t want you to jump in–”

“I have to help him!” The pure anguish in your voice is what makes Nancy finally let you go. You immediately rush over and try to pry Steve off of your friend, but he doesn’t see you approach and almost lands a blow at your face. 

Jonathan sees this and grunts out, “don’t touch her,” before punching Steve in the face once more and throwing him off. They’re both standing now as Steve’s friends egg the fight on and Nancy pleads for them to stop. You tug at the boys’ clothes to try and break them apart, but you know you’re weak against them. You force yourself to think of something else, and right as you’ve formed a plan, Tommy is the one who steps in and punches Jonathan.

“Get out of here, man.” Steve yells, not wanting anyone to fight his battles for him. 

You slap Tommy across the face. “Fuck off!”

The boy raises his fist to punch you and you don’t have time to do anything else besides flinch and brace yourself for the hit, but Steve intercepts it. “Tommy! I said get out of here!”

You’re in a daze as you process what’s just happened, but then Jonathan starts throwing more punches and suddenly Tommy has his arms around you to hold you back. You try to break out of his grasp, but he’s a lot damn stronger than Nancy. 

All you can do is helplessly watch as your best friend beats Steve Harrington’s face in. He lands one punch, then two, then three, and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan might actually kill him. 

“Jonathan! Stop!” You scream, tears now streaming down your face. 

He has Steve pinned on the ground by the time the cops come. 

“Shit, the cops!” Tommy lets go of you to help break up the fight right as the two officers arrive. They struggle to get Jonathan off of Steve and somehow he manages to punch one of the cops in the nose. Of course he fucking punches a cop in the nose.

You rush over to try and help, but as soon as the cops have Jonathan you feel yet another pair of arms wrap around you. You don’t know who it is, but they start to drag you away while the cops arrest Jonathan. You try to twist around to face your assailant, thrashing and kicking. “Why do you all keep grabbing me?”

“Fuck, Henderson! Stop kicking me, I’m already bleeding!” Steve groans, still carrying you in his arms as he and his friends flee the crime scene. 

You struggle more against him, but you’re exhausted from your previous attempts of breaking up the fight and you’re still crying. You can’t do anything besides making it extremely difficult for him to carry you and throw out a multitude of insults and cuss words. You have to get to Jonathan.

Once they’re a few yards away, they slow down and Steve finally places you back on the ground, though his arms remain around you. You manage to free your own arms and begin punching him in the chest. “Let go of me! Jonathan just got arrested because of you!” Every word you say is followed by a punch. 

“Jesus Henderson! I just saved your ass, quit it!”

“Saved my ass? You just beat up my best friend and he’s bleeding and needs my help and–”

“He’s a cheater! So is Nancy! They deserve each other and if you go back there right now you’ll be arrested and they’re sure as hell aren’t worth getting arrested over!” Steve is screaming at you and shaking you by the shoulders, urging you to understand. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not with Jonathan? And you’re wrong! It wasn’t like that between him and Nancy, you have to understand that.” You scream back at him, faintly aware of Steve’s friends watching in the background. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Y/N.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“God, you’re so naive.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s always the nice ones who are the most naive.”

His words cut through you; you look him in the eyes, “Get fucked, Harrington.” 

Steve lets go of you, surprised by your words while his friends gasp. “I was just trying to help.”

His voice is soft, as if he’s afraid to admit this to you, and you know that in his own way he means it. Steve had only been trying to help, but he hurt the people you love in the process. You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy.

You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

Instead, you turn away and run back towards the alley and Jonathan.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[izzytheloser12]

~~~~ More kaishin incorrect quotes~~~~

*kaito trying to flirt with Shinichi*

Kaito: Dom or sub?

Shinichi: I guess Domino's, since I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category though.

~~~~~~

Kaito: You look good in that hoodie.

Shinichi: You know where else I'd look good?

Kaito, zero hesitation: My bed.

Shinichi, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Kaito: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Shinichi: WHAT

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: *Holding up a pack of pencils* These are kinda cute.

Kaito: Shinichi, that’s gay.

Shinichi: We’ve been dating for 2 years—

~~~~~~~~

*kaito trying to flirt with Shinichi part 2*

Kaito: I like your new pants!

Shinichi: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Kaito: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

Shinichi: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Kaito: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Shinichi: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Kaito.

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: You know, Kaito, when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Kaito: ...

Kaito: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: Shinichi, why are you crying?

Shinichi: This book is so sad!!

Kaito, picking it up: But this is my diary-

Shinichi: your life is really sad kaito

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

Shinichi: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal.

Kaito, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Kaito: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Shinichi: But you’re always acting stupid?

Kaito: ...

Kaito: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Did it hurt when you fell-

Kaito: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Shinichi: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Kaito: ...

Shinichi: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Shinichi: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Bonjour, Kaito. Voulez–vous coucher avec moi?

Kaito: No, I don't want to sleep with you.

Shinichi: Is that what that means? Oh, man, I had a really gross tennis instructor.

Kaito: WHAT

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Kaito: This is a lie.

Kaito: I'm literally dating him. This is a lie.

Kaito: HE DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: I'm at a loss for words!

Kaito: Despite being ‘at a loss for words’, Shinichi yelled at me for the next 45 minutes.

~~~~~~~~

Kaito: Why are you like this??

Shinichi: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

~~~~~~

Kaito, singing: He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's on thin fucking ice

Shinichi, also singing: Santa Claus is calling you out!

~~~~~~

Shinichi: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Kaito: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Shinichi: Holy shit-

~~~~~~

Kaito: Shinichi and I are no longer dating.

Shinichi: Kaito, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

[ssprayberrythings]

heyyy to help u w ur writers block:

spending a lazy day w danny, like either lazing around on the couch in the sun or maybs he’s sticking to his workout regimen and trying to convince us to join? just cutesy domestic shh xx

thank you anon for this, i hope you're still around to read the final product! i kept it short and sweet, wanting to get the simplicity of it all but im proud of it!

MOMENTS LIKE THESE | DR3

daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none at all just domestic moments with danny 🫶

masterlist | taglist

It was vacation time for the drivers and that meant you finally got to spend time with your boyfriend, except for when he went to the gym, which was one thing you didn’t do with him. 

“Where are you going?” You asked your boyfriend as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You had woken up a few moments earlier and heard the shower running. You debated joining him but the water was being turned off before you could make any further movement.

“To the gym” he smiled as he walked into the walk in closet you shared to get dressed 

“Can’t you skip the gym for one day” you asked already knowing the answer to the question but decided to ask any way 

“No, but I figured I’d go early enough so when I get back we still have the whole day to do whatever you want” Danny told you as he reentered the bedroom, to your disappointment fully clothed. 

“Or you could join me” he added as he made his way towards the bed sitting on your side

“No your workout is so intense I’d probably die” you exaggerated as you moved closer to him “Plus you’re so sexy, I’d just be distracted the entire time” you smirked at him 

He let out a laugh while putting one of his hands on the side of your face “I wouldn’t mind an audience” he told you as he leant in to kiss you. 

You smiled into the kiss, happily kissing him back before he pulled away “I have to go or else Michael won’t let me leave to make up for being late” he told you getting up from the bed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and heading out of the room to leave 

“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you” he gave you his famous Daniel Ricciardo smile before he was gone out of the room. 

You just decided to go back to sleep, figuring it’d be the fastest way to kill time before he was back home and your day would start then. 

-

You woke up a few hours after and it didn’t take long for you to realize Daniel still wasn’t home judging by the empty space next to you or at least that’s what you thought. 

When you eventually found the energy to get up and leave your bedroom, you were met with your boyfriend making breakfast. You smiled at the site and admired how at peace he looked. 

“Morning sleeping beauty” he joked with you once he caught you admiring him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked as you made your way to sit on the counter, his hands taking a break from fixing breakfast and helping you up smiling at how cute he thought you looked 

“It was okay. Would’ve been better with you next to me” you told him as you took a blueberry off one of the plates and ate it while Danny went back to making breakfast.

He had made pancakes, washed some fruit and then he was just finishing up the eggs right now. “How was the gym?” You asked him

“It was okay, would’ve been better with you” he answered you sending a smirk your way causing you to roll your eyes while laughing at him reiterating the same response you had given him.

Once the eggs were done and he plated them for the both of you, you jumped off the counter and grabbed them bringing them to the living room.

You had a routine that whenever you ate breakfast together you’d eat it in the living room, enjoying the calmness the morning brought and enjoying each other's company.

It was such a simple act but with Daniel’s busy racing schedule, you had come to appreciate the simpler moments you got to spend with each other and enjoyed just being able to be with each other. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked your boyfriend taking a bite of your pancakes 

“Can we have a lazy day, maybe go for a walk later to watch the sunset” he suggested 

“Sounds perfect to me” you smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

It wasn't like Daniel to suggest something like this as he always wanted to be doing something but every once and a while he would make this type of suggestion and you loved it because it meant getting to spend the day cuddled up which was something you never took for granted.

-

When you both finished breakfast and the dishes were cleaned. You made your way back to the living room where you spent a good chuck of your day, enjoying the comfort from each other.

You watched movie after movie, some funny, some scary, it didn't matter, the two of you loved any time you got to spend together.

When the time came, you got dressed in some warmer clothes, put your shoes on and made your way to watch the sunset.

Daniel had his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder while you enjoyed the peace and quiet watching the sun set.

It was moments like this that made you the happiest. Getting to spend precious time with the man of your dreams, nothing else compared to moments like these. 

-

Tags: @namgification

I know it's small but I hope you enjoyed it and this was the first f1 related fic that isn't smau style so I hope its okay. Feel free to send any ideas or requests. Look at this two Danny fics in a row, I must be in a Danny mood ☺️

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More,Blood Stellaworth Complete Set Tokuten Short Stories ☽ Ayato ver.

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD ステラワース全巻連動購入特典ショートストーリ English translation by @otomehonyaku Scans can be found here (courtesy of @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SUMMARY | This short story provides a slice of Ayato and Yui's daily life after the events of More,Blood. Yui tells off Ayato when he asks her to prepare takoyaki for him, so he resolves to make it himself out of spite. Chaos ensues...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Please do not reuse or repost my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Tch… this is harder than I thought…”

As soon as I’d spat out the words, smoke started rising from the searing hot teppan (1) in front of me.

“It’s burning…?! Shit! How’d that happen?!”

I went over to the sink, getting increasingly irritated, and turned on the tap to fill a nearby cup with water. By that point, smoke was billowing up from the steel plate. It was then, when I reached over to throw the water onto the pan, that…

“Ayato! Stop, you shouldn’t do that!”

“The fuck?!”

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“You’re the one who told me to make it myself, right?! Right?” I threatened, looming over her. Her lip quivered while she apologised, her voice small.  

It had all started a mere ten minutes ago.

I’d just been craving takoyaki before bed. I woke up Pancake, who’d already been fast asleep, and pestered her to make it for me. However, of all the things she could’ve done, she flat-out told me I should be able to make such a simple dish myself.

Well, she ain’t wrong, I’d briefly thought—and yet her blunt statement had really pissed me off. It made me want to put her in her place. 

Then, another thought suddenly occurred to me. I wanted to prove to her that I could, in fact, make takoyaki myself.

And so, in a petty attempt at retaliation, I’d decided to actually prepare the takoyaki on my own. But to think the same person who told me to do so would still be poking her nose into my business…

“I’m sorry, I think I should make the takoyaki after all.” 

“What?!”

Pancake sounded exasperated when she reached over to take the metal skewers from my hands and stood in front of the takoyaki machine.

“The fuck’re you doin’? Then why’d you tell me to make it myself?! Besides, they’re almost done already, so…” I grumbled while Pancake narrowed her eyes at me from over her shoulder.

“...I thought you would repetitively refuse to make it yourself, so…”

“What?”

“So I’d figured you’d go to great lengths to make me do it!” she said, somehow quite angrily.

“So what, huh? I tried to make you do it but you didn’t in the end. Why’re you yappin’ like it’s not in your favour?”

“...Come on! It’s… because… I wanted you to ask me, Ayato…”

“Huh?”

“Well… I felt a bit irritated because you woke me up out of the blue, but… you know, I actually find it… kind of… cute when you come to me asking to prepare takoyaki for you, Ayato…” Pancake’s face turned bright red—all the way to her ears—when she said it.

“W-what’s… cute…? The fuck?! Are you out of your mind?” My voice almost betrayed me.

“I’m not! Come on, Ayato…! Why did you choose to actually make it yourself this time…?” Pancake mumbled, skillfully turning over the takoyaki. 

I’d thought the takoyaki had been burning, but it turned out not to be so bad after all.

What she said made me feel like I had been a bit unreasonable. I swallowed hard. 

“Uh… anyway! I’m always fine with making takoyaki for you, okay…?!”

“Ugh… I-I don’t understand you, woman!” I retorted. 

In all honesty, I just didn’t know how to deal with being thrown off-balance this way. 

The takoyaki turned out to be… so bad that they were inedible. I must’ve messed up the ingredients somehow. In the end, it seemed like there was no other way than to let Pancake make takoyaki for me from now on, no matter how much she got on my nerves.

Well, I guessed it couldn’t be helped.

Still, though… the next time she calls me cute, I’ll drain her to the last drop!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(1) 鉄板（てっぱん）: A teppan is a steel plate, usually in the middle of a table, on which dishes are either prepared by a chef (in a teppanyaki restaurant) or by yourself (in good company!)

[mylittlediarys-stuff]

Bite Back Part 11

It’s a Sunday morning after the party, and the trio are eating at a local Denny's.

“So, how was your first high school party?” Francesca asked, taking a bite of her waffles.

“Umm… it was surprisingly good, I guess?” Amaka thought about the experience for a moment. She’d spent here time  drinking alcohol, testing how much it would take to get drunk, and spent the rest of the night watching people do stupid stuff for entertainment. “I’d rate it a solid 5 out of 10.”

“Five? Why so low?” Ram asked.

“Not enough hot guys to look at,” Amaka said before realizing what she’d just admitted. “Forget I said that.”

If she weren’t darker than chocolate, she’d swear her face had turned red.

“You should say more stuff like that. You’ll make way more friends,” Ram said.

“Maybe even a boyfriend,” Francesca added.

Something about their teasing softened Amaka’s expression. She wasn’t used to people saying nice things about her (other than Alfred).

“Anyway, you drank so much, but you don’t even have a hangover?” Francesca asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. Maybe I have a high tolerance or something. Plus, by the fourth drink, I’m pretty sure it was watered down, or someone started adding juice to it.”

She noticed both her friends had mild hangovers, though they seemed better by the time they made it to Denny’s.

“Actually, Francesca, whose car were you driving? Do you even have a license?” 

“Nah, I drive without a license. The car’s my dad’s—he doesn’t care unless I get caught, and I doubt that’ll happen. I’ll be 16 in a few months, so it doesn’t even matter,” Francesca said casually.

The words made Amaka choke on her pancakes.

She’s driving illegally! No wonder her turns and stops were so rough.

She wanted to tell her friend how irresponsible that was, but she couldn’t exactly judge. She was literally a tenth-grader who had 20 drinks last night. She was only 15.

-

Somehow, the group ended up at an old thrift shop. Amaka didn’t feel like going home yet, and the other two didn’t want to head back to their dorms.

“Miss Wayne, have you even been in one of these?” Francesca teased. “Or do you buy all your stuff at Gucci?”

“I prefer Dior or Chanel, and yes, I’ve been to thrift shops. I used to go all the time.”

Ram and Francesca busied themselves looking for outfits for a party they planned to attend next week. Meanwhile, Amaka wandered around, taking in the store.

It smells like death in here.

Thrift shops always had that musty, unidentifiable smell, like someone had died, and no one cared enough to get rid of the body. Despite hating the stench, it brought back memories—good ones. Memories from before she became Amaka Wayne. Back when she couldn’t afford Dior boots.

This smell kind of puts me at peace.

Instead of browsing clothes, Amaka explored the old household appliances and outdated tech.

These computers don’t even look that bad.

Most of the tech seemed to be from late 90s from the early 2000s.

An idea sparked in her mind. 

What could I build with this?

Building her own tech was something she’d always been interested in. As a kid, she used to tell herself she’d become the next Tony Stark.

If it works out, I could show Bruce. Maybe he’d be impressed.

Amaka knew she had a bad habit of craving her family’s approval. Ever since she joined them, she’d done everything to impress them—winning awards, getting straight As—but deep down, she wondered if there would ever be space for her in their hearts.

-

“How was the sleepover, Miss Amaka?” Alfred greeted her when she finally got home.

She’d returned later than expected, just three hours shy of dinner. She and her friends had spent far more time at the thrift shop than planned.

“It was actually pretty nice. Thank you for asking.” She took the bags from Alfred’s hands. The man was too old to be doing manual labor. “But it was quite loud. Where is everyone?”

“They’re in the clock tower for an important meeting. Apparently, there’s a mission tonight,” Alfred said. “Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I’ll eat during dinner.”

An important mission?

Amaka envied her siblings. It had taken her only three days to figure out that the Waynes had... unusual nighttime activities. When she confronted them about it, they didn’t even acknowledge her discovery.

Though she never admitted it, she hoped Bruce would train her like the others. It never happened. She hadn’t even stepped foot in the clock tower. She once overheard a convection with Bruce and one of brother, Dick Bruce told him how the girl was strong but slow at the same time, they didn’t need an dead weight on the team. Dick agreed and mention t her father that she wasn’t hero material like the rest of them. Simply they believe she didn’t have what they need. 

But why would they care about me? Why even bring me here? I’m just a charity case, aren’t I? 

notes:

Sorry for not updating for a while but I've been busy with school and applying for colleges. In the next few chapters, we'll see some spider action no more pity party for our girl. Thank you for reading :)

tag list:

@mariadvorak @mynameisnotlaura @azure-drag0ness

[harleehazbinfics]

Chapter 2: Dear Baby, kindness will take you a million miles.

Dear baby, m.list | Author Profile

A/n: Chapter 2 yaaaay, i got fully immersed for this one hehehe Word Count: 1842

You wake up to your feather all sticking out in different directions and drool on the side of your beak. You stretched carefully with a loud yawn before closing your mouth in embarrassment from your unladylike behavior. You then try to straighten out your feathers and failing, making you huff. Your borrowed dress trains after you as you approached the vanity seeing your figure.

You were tall like most of the Goetia and was gifted features of an owl, you had tan feathers that almost look golden in the light. Your hair was the same, framing your body beautifully. You trace your talons across your cheek and sighed.

“If we’re starting a new life, we got to make the most of it now. Isn’t that right, darling?”  you laugh drily petting your tummy and stood tall. Your magic envelops you as your slowly turned into a human form.

Your human form wasn’t starkly different from your normal form. Just your hair, hands and legs turning more human like. This way, no one would ever notice you were ever part of the Goetia immediately.

After taking a bath, changing to new clothes. You followed the smell of pancakes down the hall. There you see Lucifer cooking breakfast in the kitchen with a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. You held back a laugh as you approached the kitchen island listening to him a hum a lively tune.

“Good morning, your majesty,” you greet him with a smile.

“Good morning!” he replies cheerfully before noticing his pancake burning, “Uh oh!”

He hastily plates the remaining pancakes and serves you the pancakes that had no burnt spots. You blush at his gesture and thank him quietly while picking up your utensils carefully and carefully cut the fluffy pancakes.

“Do you have any plans today, your majesty?” you ask him cautiously.

He chews and think with a hum before answering, “I might do some paperwork today. I’ve been holding off work for a while. I’m sure they’re all piled up by now.”

At the sound of the word papers, you perked up and replied, “Can I help you with them? I’m quite familiar with organizing and cataloguing. I-if that’s too much to ask, you can ignore me. I apologize.”

He furrows his eyebrows at your dejected look and huffs with a smile. Being in a quite unfamiliar place must be stressful for you, having him help you might do you some good and familiarize yourself with the structure of the city and at the same time keep your mind off things. Besides, you were part of the Goetia, you were more or less acquainted with the working of earth and how they reported to him.

“Of course, I don’t see why not you can’t,” he answers with a grin, easing you of your worries.

Your bright smile douses his broken heart with a calm he hasn’t felt in a while.

After breakfast, he takes you to his office. He wasn’t lying when he said it had piled up. Several towers of paper lined up from his table about waist high. However, the air here was heavy and stuffy. Lucifer rushes for the blinds and pushes open the windows.

“Sorry. I haven’t been here for a while,” Lucifer excuses with an apologetic smile as he uses his magic to immediately clean the room and pick up any stray pieces of paper from the ground and onto the nearest stack.

“It’s fine, your majesty. I don’t mind,” you assure him as you approached the stack of paper closest to you, “Should I start from here?”

“If you could. Just tell me if you feel tired. I’d hate to push you to work,” he answers while fretting over you which you found heartwarming to be cared for by this man.

You gave him a nod in appreciation. With his permission, you carried a good stack of papers and placed them on the coffee table by the couch and began your work.

Most of them were reports on the death counts for yearly exterminations and other communication letters from Heaven which were, not so friendly, a few being specifically addressed from an ADAM with rock sign on it.

There were also a few reports coming in from the different layers of hell. Yearly report on income, crime rates, destroyed buildings and a few notes on some disputes between the rulers of each ring.

It wasn’t boggling when you received the financial statements from the Greed Ring. Several of these assets were probably laundered or just manipulated in their favor with how unproportional their expenses were to the rest of their accounts.

Your movements come to a stop when you saw a familiar handwriting. With a heavy heart, you read your father’s name under his report on Earth about life of humans from impoverished areas. It made you smile sadly at how this was what your father reported on. He truly did have a soft-hearted soul. It made you wonder how your family was, after leaving the castle you didn’t send them any letters on where you were. The thought squeezed you heart from the guilt and grief of being away from your family for such a long time.

As if sensing your plummeted mood, a little duckie appeared in your desk with a little quack. You touched it with your finger before picking it up and squeezing it. Earning yourself an energetic wenk. You giggle under your breath and look at Lucifer, who looked right back with a worried look. You responded with a confident smile before returning to your work.

Days and weeks pass the same after that. Until eventually all the remaining reports only amounted to a reasonable stack on his desk. The other files were already sent away for review and auditing.

With a big stretch, you relieve yourself from the strain of sitting for days on end. You felt relieved and satisfied after completing your work. And just after a good work is done, Lucifer came into the office bringing in a tray of tea and pastries.

Your eyes gleamed in delight at the sight. You were now an avid fan of Lucifer’s baking and cooking skills, it as if he were gifted the hands of a culinary god. You took a bite of a scone before taking a sip of the tea he also brewed. The refreshing combo was truly phenomenal.

“I don’t think I can stress this enough, your majesty! You’re quite skilled in the kitchen!” you complemented him,

You were radiating with happiness that Lucifer couldn’t help but feel bashful to. It has been quite a long time since someone had complemented him for any of his skills. It felt invigorating to say the least.

“Thank you for your compliments. Truth be told, I was quite nervous to show off my cooking skills to you. I was afraid that it wouldn’t end up well,” he replies recalling his burnt pancake during your first morning here.

You giggled and answered, “I feel honored for the king of hell to worry about my palate. I must apologize however, I didn’t mean for you to be so troubled because of me.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. I just wanted you to have a good experience while you were here,” he explains scratching his nape.

You gave him a grateful smile then replying, “Thank you. I am having a fun time here. I quite like the view from the rooftop. Though, I do miss the stars I suppose one can be amused by the chaos that happens in sinners’ day to day.”

He laughs awkwardly like an embarrassed teen mom being scrutinized for her rowdy kids. Since sinners were his subjects, he can’t help but feel responsible for their actions as though they represent him. Of course it wasn’t his fault.

“I’ve seen portraits of her everywhere. Is she your daughter?” you ask, changing the subject and motioning to the toddler in the family portrait.

He beams a proud smile and answers, “Yeah, she is. Her name’s Charlie.”

“You look so much alike,” you reply, “Where is she?”

“Ah, she’s with her mother. She took Charlie with her after we split,” he explains giving a longing look of their family portrait.

It made your heart squeeze thinking about how this man was missing his daughter so badly. He doesn’t seem to talk much about his wife, neither does he tell unpleasant stories about his wife. You guessed it was a reluctant parting, hoping they could fix it somehow.

“Do you still see her? Charlie?” you ask once again.

“Not for a while. It’s been 8 months since I’ve seen her,” he sighs imagining how his little princess would be right now.

“If it’s too presumptuous of me. I think you should call her. I’m sure she’s missing her dad,” you suggested cautiously.

His eyebrows merely furrowed, and his frown deepened, “What if she doesn’t? I haven’t seen her for such a long time. I don’t want her to hate me.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He gazes into your eyes that shook from imagining scenarios in his head by himself.

“Just give her a call. I’m sure your wife will understand. It’s for your daughter after all,” you reasoned with him.

He releases a deep sigh and solemnly nods his head. He missed Charlie, and as much as it pained him to talk to Lilith again. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his daughter. So, he walked towards his desk and picks up his telephone.

“I’ll leave the room to you, your majesty. Call for me if you need anything,” you say as your stood up heaving your rounded stomach.

“Actually, (Y/n)? Could you... could you stay?” he whispers with much anxiety.

You looked at him surprised and asked once again for confirmation if he was sure about his decision for him to nod his head. Offering his hand for you to hold as he tries to face his fears. You took his hand and gave him an encouraging squeeze.

He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath before dialing the number he has memorized like the back his hand. You absent-mindedly held his hand as he did his business. The family portrait of 3 staring back at you made you feel queasy, did you overstep your boundary here? You were just a guest, but you wanted Lucifer to be happy with the family you’ve been longing for.

“Great! Saturday at 10, yeah?... Thanks for the time, Lilith,” he breathes out strained, however instead of replying she turned off the call.

After putting the phone down he pumps his fist in the air and yells, “YEAH! I’m going to see my daughter this Saturday~”

You laugh at his little song, you tinkling laugh catches his attention. Giving you a soft warm smile and thanking you, “Thank you, (y/n). I wouldn’t have mustered the courage without you.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for taking the chance,” you reply nudging his shoulder.

🔗Dear Baby Taglist:

@wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @luc1fersducky @condy-wants-a-cookie @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @beansluvsmilo @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @hahalame @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

One with Emily Prentiss I BEG.

Maybe one where Emily is a mission and keeps making promises to come home in time for Christmas. But on Christmas Eve r loses hope completely and just goes to bed crying because she really misses Emily and then in the morning Em has a much of gifts that she’s setting up in the living room, there’s breakfast and everything. maybe a quote like, “I promised I’d come home in time, didn’t I?”

idk this is my first time requesting

Love’s Silent Night

(Not my gif)

Emily Prentiss x fem!wife!reader

WARNING: 18+ MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, slight angst, happy ending

Y/n sat in the living room watching the same christmas special for what seemed like the 50th time. Truly, all that she wanted to do is start a fire and curl up next to her wife and watch some christmas movies. But of course, work calls.

———————————————

“Em! Please! It’s literally almost Christmas and you’re leaving for another case?” Y/n exclaimed, crossing her arms clearly distraught, “I know, baby, I know. But-“

“-Duty calls, Yeah, I know, Em. Every year.”

Emily smiles sadly, knowing every year they had spent Christmas apart because of work. And it affected both of them, but this year it was different. The house felt emptier, the blankets seemed colder, and the bed didn’t seem as cozy. It was safe to say that this year wasn’t the best in terms of marriage and staying functional. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, love” Emily said, her face genuine, “And when will that be? January? Last year you came home in the middle of March. Not a single word from you for months..”

Emily’s face suddenly fell. She knew that it hurt y/n every year when this would happen. She also knew that their marriage suffered because of it. “I’ll be home for Christmas, that’s a promise.”

———————————————

Y/n checks the clock. It reads 9:53 as she still lays motionless on the plush couch. It was Christmas Eve, maybe y/n had gotten her hopes up too much. Every year this would happen, so why would this one be any different?

Lugging herself off of the couch she mindlessly threw herself into bed. The bright Christmas lights peaked through the window. It was sad, honestly. It really was. Y/n’s friends pitied her, ‘What’s the point of having a wife if she can’t even be home with you for a day?’

Y/n would brush them off, saying that Emily is trying her best. Which, sometimes Emily didn’t even know if that was true.

Taking a glance at her phone it lit up with a message, Y/n hopefully picks it up and reads it. Sadly, it was from JJ instead of Emily. The case is taking longer than expected! Sorry, n/n! See you soon?

Y/n smiled bitterly, of course, this would happen. She felt the last trace of hope leave her and her tears began to sting. There was that heaviness in her chest and her bed grew colder. In all honesty, y/n didn’t care about Emily coming home for Christmas. She just wanted her home, the sound of blowing wind lulled her to sleep. Letting the cold winter night consume her.

Soon enough, the smell of…hot chocolate? It had lingered in the air, y/n was she sure that she hadn’t made any. It also smelt of pancakes and…Emily’s perfume…

Leaping out of bed, the sleepiness leaving her, the faint sound of Christmas Jazz playing, y/n sprinted down the stairs with a hopeful feeling in her chest and her smile stretching from ear to ear. As she turned to look in the living room, she heard a familiar giggle. “Looking for me, love?” Emily smiled, teasingly holding up a mistletoe, her Santa hat had perfectly matched her plaid pjs and black sweatshirt. Y/n didn’t waste any time to dive straight into Emily’s arms and into a warm and longing kiss.

“I said I’ll be home for Christmas didn’t I?” Emily smirked, y/n rolled her eyes, “I’m just happy you’re home…safe”

[abiiors]

red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you. 

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him. 

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like. 

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time. 

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place. 

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly. 

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry. 

“come in,” you offer and he nods. 

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance. 

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby. 

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless. 

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past. 

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name. 

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room. 

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head. 

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame. 

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through. 

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby. 

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door. 

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe. 

you don’t need a third. 

you only need her. 

matty doesn’t give up. 

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside. 

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day. 

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it. 

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens. 

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting. 

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times. 

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter.  i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out.  i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once.  i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future.  i’m leaving that decision up to you.  there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again.  till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia.  love,  matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right? 

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too. 

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up. 

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words. 

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest. 

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days. 

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right. 

this is not about you. this is about your daughter. 

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread. 

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it. 

gone. winked out of existence just like that. 

and then you open a fresh new thread. 

hi matty, hope you’re well.  got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone. 

half a minute later, three dots dance in response. 

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you. 

sunday works. see you then. 

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery. 

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get. 

the more you feel fear grip your chest. 

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life. 

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat. 

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option. 

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again. 

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache. 

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps. 

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around. 

fuck. 

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning. 

absolutely no one who will even answer. 

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand. 

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side. 

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it. 

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries. 

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all. 

as if this was all his dream. 

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly. 

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point. 

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before. 

something about it makes your heart stutter. 

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread. 

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest. 

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly. 

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer. 

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away. 

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally. 

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery. 

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat. 

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever. 

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden. 

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it. 

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest. 

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed. 

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song. 

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it. 

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes. 

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks. 

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum. 

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls. 

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen. 

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes. 

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him. 

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up. 

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this. 

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face. 

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye. 

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo. 

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back. 

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest. 

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation. 

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince. 

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father. 

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod. 

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother. 

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard. 

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer. 

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see  if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out. 

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights. 

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it. 

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours. 

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence. 

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity. 

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil. 

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter. 

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares. 

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth. 

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours. 

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now. 

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between. 

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support. 

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly. 

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw. 

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter. 

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear. 

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair. 

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank. 

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter. 

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all. 

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face. 

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right. 

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin. 

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head. 

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights. 

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head. 

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that. 

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue. 

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt. 

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid. 

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod. 

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room. 

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again. 

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place. 

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss. 

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge. 

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world. 

you’d die if he were to let go of you now. 

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming. 

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it. 

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out. 

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge. 

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin. 

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit. 

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you. 

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes. 

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.  

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst. 

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it. 

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest. 

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

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