#Yeah part of it too is that his mom has lived paycheck to paycheck her whole life as a phenomenal single mother

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

“it’s not just committing to each other, but committing to care for each others families as if they are our own” this is soooo beautiful and true it made me emotional 🥹

Yeah!!!!! Me too!!!! 🥲🥲

tw: parent death

Like knowing that our parents are getting older and will not be able to afford nursing care (not that we want them there anyways) but like yeah!! I’m not just signing up to hang out with my bestie for the rest of our lives, I’m signing up to consider his parents’ well being for the end of theirs 😭 and like… to help him through that whenever it occurs. And vice versa. Yeah! just marriage to us feels a lot bigger than just the two of us!

[tokiwarcube]

The Bad Kind

Pickles hates his family, and everything to do with them… but there’s still that small piece of him that holds out hope for a normal life — for some modicum of love to be tossed his way. So maybe it isn’t weird that he’s attending this way-too-expensive wedding party… but what is weird is how chummy his mom is being with you.

Or, in which Pickles throws hands after Seth tries to get a little too friendly with you.

Pickles/Reader (GN) (Established relationship.)

Warnings: Seth. Nonconsensual touching (above belt)/sexual harassment, canon-typical violence. Happy ending, 3.1k. Enjoy!

He’s gonna pass out if he keeps breathing like this.

If Pickles had it his way, he'd never see his family again. It took a lot of work, and even more drugs, to forget the bulk of his childhood memories. And truthfully, few things would make him happier than to forget the rest of them, too. Just throw them away, leave them in the dark, and let him live. But try as he might, the past always has a way of clawing its way to the forefront of his mind, and into his life. Like right now.

His leg bounces rapidly from his seat at the edge of the ballroom, arms crossed over his chest as he picks incessantly at his cuticles. Seats flush against the wall, this small area has been your one place of refuge for the night. The rest of your small group had separated early, with most of the boys presumably wandering over to raid the bar and buffet, although from where you’re sitting, you can’t quite tell if they’ve stayed there or not. It's only once you reach out to take his hand in yours, smoothing over the blossoming red lines with your own gentle touch that he halts his movements. He turns to look at you then, finally tearing his eyes away from the crowd, gritting his teeth and pressing his mouth into a flat line. It’s a strained smile, but it’s something, at least.

You’re sure he’d burn this whole venue down if you weren’t in it right now.

"Inhaler?" You mouth.

He nods in turn, patting his pocket for emphasis, before interlocking his fingers with yours. He taps repeatedly, turning your hand this way and that as his eyes rake over the crowd, searching. You should be thankful that he’s staying seated, you suppose. Last time his parents guilted him into coming to one of these events — all hosted on his dime, mind you — he couldn’t help vying for some sort of attention and support from his mother, and the damage her umpteenth rejection left lasted far longer than you’d like to remember.

You lean into him, keeping your voice low: “You sure you don’t want to leave, hun?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

He very clearly isn’t, but you know well-enough that dragging him out of here right now would only make things worse — no matter how badly you want to leave. You hum, cupping the other side of his face with your free hand and press a kiss to his jawline.“Well, just let me know, okay?”

His lips upturn a fraction then, and he tears his eyes away from the crowd again to place a proper kiss to your lips. You smile softly as you pull away, and your mouth has just parted to distract him with some conversation — he had fallen asleep during your shitty little movie marathon last night, and you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily about it — but before you can speak you’re interrupted by the click of heels on porcelain tile, and a harping voice that has you stiffening.

All things considered, time has treated Molly rather well — your lover had to have gotten his looks from somewhere, you suppose, and she’s contributed her half well enough. Although you doubt she would ever let you see her in any other state, judging by the expertly layered wine-red box dye. You absently wonder if the dye job was on Pickles’ paycheck as well. His grip tightens on your hand as she approaches, and you can feel the warmth leave his body almost instantaneously as she comes to a standstill in front of the two of you.

Her gaze is piercing, and all at once he feels like a child again -- punished for crimes far too severe for his small hands to commit.

"Pickles, I was wondering when you would show up." Her voice is uncharacteristically chipper, but it lacks an element of invitation. She turns to you then, and when you lock eyes with her, her pinked lips turn upward, although this too lacks something critical.

“And it’s so good to see you again, too.” Your name rolls off her lips with ease, and your eyebrows bounce in surprise. “I hope my son hasn’t been giving you too much trouble at work? I mean really, with all the work that you do…”

Frankly, you hadn’t expected her to remember you at all — your first (and last) interaction could hardly even classed as a “meeting,” with how quickly it had ended. Vague memories of tequila and flashing lights — the faint recollection a firm handshake as you introduced yourself as his partner glimmers somewhere in the back of your mind — before being pulled away by a clamoring crowd. The memories are a bit fuzzy with all of the commotion — one of the boys had thrown hands with a waiter during the annual (mandatory) Christmas get-together, and after that, everything beyond getting the hell out of there was irrelevant. You can’t quite recall if you had ever told her exactly what you do for Dethklok, but you chalk it up to the trace alcohol that was in your system at the time.

“No, uh,” you stumble, “Things have been going great, actually. Smooth sailing, always a blessing to do what I love for a living.”

Her eyes crinkle at your reaction, laughing politely. She swirls her wine around in her glass absently, eyes trained on you. Pickles’ brow furrows in your peripherals, and you’d be lying if something didn’t feel off.

“Mom—”

“Now, don’t be modest dear,” she extends her hand towards you, manicured nails glimmering in the white light of the venue, “I’m sure it must be hard, corralling all of those boys. You really must have your work cut out for you!”

“Ah, really, they’re not much trouble at all.” You squeeze Pickles’ hand affectionately, dragging your thumb across his index. Her refusal to acknowledge her son isn’t lost on you. “Plus, it’s nice being able to make art with my boyfriend. It’s a good gig.” You titter out a soft laugh of your own, to be polite — don’t cause a scene.

She hums, sipping her wine. That seems to be the extent of her acknowledgement, however.

“Really, your work is incredible. Sure, it might not be my cup of tea…” She pauses then, tilting her head to the side. “But it’s good. Very good. I’d love to hear more about your process over a glass. Do you drink wine?” She shows you teeth then, eyes darting between your hand and her own.

“Ah, not—”

“Babe,” Pickles squeezes your hand, patting the top fondly before shooting a soft smile at you, “It’s fine, go have fun.”

There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes when he says it, and this is quite frankly the opposite of fun to you — especially with the growing unease brewing in your stomach at her insistent gaze — but with a look like that, you find it hard to say no. You wonder if this is the most amiably she’s acknowledged him in recent years, and it’s that exact thought that pushes you to your feet. Maybe you can slip in a good word or two.

You smile back at him, drawing your hand from his hold to cup his face — beard scratching fondly against your hand — and press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah? Alright hun, let me know if you need anything, okay?”

And with that you’re taking his mother’s hand, and letting her drag you across the room. It’s a bit too pristine and white for your tastes — white marble walls melt into the ground, creating a strange sort of homogeneity that, even with the towering pillars that intersperse the room, make the expensive sight rather… bland, visually. You move through the crowd towards the small bar at the front, talking all the while about the newest album and your contributions — the crowd is larger than you would have thought for Pickles’ family, although to be fair, he couldn’t remember whose wedding he was paying for this time, so you suppose they could have simply been one of the more tolerable extended members. The boys are nowhere to be found, surprisingly — you absently wonder if there’s another bar in the building, or if they’ve simply fucked off to cause mischief elsewhere.

She hails the bartender, signalling for another glass of her own drink as you speak. And for what it’s worth, you are engrossed in your conversation — you swirl the wine in your glass, watching the dark drink cradle the glass again and again as you walk her through the creative process. She nods, humming politely with a sip from her glass every now and again, occasionally casting a look towards your untouched glass. You have half the mind to offer it to her with how she’s staring it down — you wouldn’t miss it, really.

“Well, that is quite a bit of work, now isn’t it?” She smiles at you again, and that growing unease returns once again.

“You know, my son Seth is getting into the music business too. I’m sure he’d appreciate any pointers you have.” Her eyes look past you for a moment, brightening sincerely for the first time tonight as she rises from her seat. You follow her movements as she walks past you, and you feel your stomach sink when you see where she’s pacing off to.

Or, more accurately, to whom.

“You two will have so much to talk about, I bet you'll get along just perfect."

Seth trades places with her, and you feel your stomach sink. Of course she has ulterior motives. You’re being used as a business consultant. You sigh internally, forcing a smile onto your face when your eyes lock. The smarmy grin on his face leaves a growing pit of disgust in your stomach, and you realize that this has absolutely been the plan from the beginning. Fucker. You sigh to yourself, gritting your teeth: All you’ve gotta do is give him some vague pointers, you tell yourself — nothing you haven’t done before.

It’s easy to get along with someone when you can’t get a word in, edge-wise.

You sip at the wine absently, letting your eyes unfocus as he rambles at you — it isn’t a particularly good wine, certainly not the exact drink you would have chosen — although to be fair, if you knew you were going to be listening to Seth talk for the rest of the night, you would have chosen something stronger.

“It’s gonna be great, I know it—”

Like absinthe.

“— I’ve got a producer lined up to work with us and everything—”

Or Everclear.

“—We’re only missing a few people in this whole thing—”

Hell, you’d do a shot of lead-radiator moonshine, if it would put you out of your fucking misery. Maybe you’d go blind, so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. You don’t think bad moonshine could make you go deaf, which really would be the ultimate reprieve right now, but you’d be damned if you wouldn’t give it a shot, anyways. You hum absently, letting your eyes roam the wall behind him in search of a clock, but no cigar. You feel like you’ve been here for a fucking century.

“—and it's like, I get it, the money must drive you crazy. But listen, you and me, we could really do something. A babe like you would drive sales crazy—”

Hold on.

You blink back into focus and furrow your brow at his words, pausing at you bring your glass back down to the table.

“I’m sorry?” You can’t help the incredulity that bleeds into your voice, but he seems to misconstrue your offense as something else entirely.

"I mean it, you're gorgeous. You could do so much more than this… thing, you’ve got going on with my brother." he leans forward into your personal space, "You've just gotta let me work my magic."

You feel the bubbles of anger rising in your throat, but you quickly shove it down. Don’t cause a scene, you repeat to yourself. You grit your teeth and force a tight-lipped smile onto your face.

"I'm not sure what you're implying," you force, "but I'm perfectly happy where I am, thank you."

You pat the top of the bar, signaling the end to your conversation, before rising to your feet. It’s not worth causing a scene over a shitty sales pitch, or bad flirting. You polish off your glass in a final sip, tossing a $20 onto the granite top before moving to stride past Seth; only, you don’t.

“Come on, babe,” His hand lands on your bicep, pressing you back gently towards the seat. But you don’t budge, pulling your upper body away from him further. The nickname, ordinarily sparking such sweet feelings in your chest when spoken from the lips of your lover, sounds repugnant in Seth’s mouth. But worse than that is his touch — the unwanted contact, however brief it might have been, makes your skin crawl. You take a step back, looking to put some distance between you two.

“Don’t touch me, thanks.” You keep your voice steady despite the repulsion, and even as anger and anxiety begins to take over when he rises from his seat to follow you. You know he’s not going to do shit in a public space like this, but that doesn’t help to assuage the nervousness brewing in you. You step back again, trying to make distance and filter into the crowd, but he mirrors the movement.

“Listen—” he starts as he reaches forward -- to touch your arm? Your hair? You can't be sure, because as you step back to dodge his advance again, Pickles appears seemingly out of nowhere.

You hear the crack of fist on jaw more than you see it, and the sound of shattering glass follows just after. The people at the bar flee from the scene in a panic as Seth’s back meets the granite where you had just been, but he doesn’t have time to strike back at Pickles as the smaller man’s fist meets his face. Crunching cartilage gives way to a sudden cacophony of shrieking, and you’re shoved harshly in the panic, with only brief snippits of words filtering through it all.

"Don't fucking touch them!"

"Get off of him!"

"Oh, fuck you!"

You stumble, pushing yourself forward as you right your footing. A circle has opened up around the two of them, and with rapidly darting eyes, you see Molly on the edge of the ring — face as red as her hair as she screams something you can’t quite make out, but it's then that you see his father stomping his way through the crowd on the other side, and you leap back into action.

Pickles has his fists curled in the front of Seth's dress shirt, pressing him flush against the bartop, and he seems torn between hitting him again and simply throttling him — although with the blood pooling from the latter's nose and mouth, you suspect he’s gotten more than a few good hits in already. It’ll have to do.

“Babe, we’ve gotta fucking bail.”

Calvert’s shoes sound like gunshots on the marble flooring as he stomps towards the three of you, and you don’t know what the fuck he thinks he’s gonna do, but that’s exactly when you decide to simply hook your arms under Pickles’, pulling him off his brother. He’s about to duck in for another hit, but your insistent tugging combined with the head tilt you give to signal that it’s time to fucking leave is enough to get him to let up.

His breathing is labored — he put his inhaler in his pocket this morning, you’re certain, — and you all but drag him through the crowd the second he nods back at you.

Clutched pearls, wide eyes, and parted mouths — the faces in the crowd blur into a smear of shock and fear, stoked further by the frightened whispers that seem to choke the room. But you don't spare the time to bask in the tension, parting the crowd with a determined stride, and before you know it the cool night air kisses your skin.

You vaguely hear the rest of the guys follow you out the door — where the hell they were for all of this would be a question for the next day— but the two of you don’t stop running until you reach the car.

A breathy giggle escapes you as you bounce into the velvet interior, and you realize at some point in your scramble you had lost a shoe to the night. You stretch yourself into the corner space of the limousine, holding your hands out towards Pickles.

He pants, stopping just before the lip of the door, bowing with his hands on his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, “Hold on, just gi- give me a second.”

You laugh, leaning forward to pull him in. “You can breathe better sitting, you know.”

He makes some sort of unintelligible noise, glancing up before taking your offered hands.

“I’m not made for running,” he says, dropping into your arms. He catches his breath for a few minutes — left pocket has inhaler, you remember, although he never pulls for it. His breathing evens out slowly, and once he’s capable of speaking again, he pulls back to look at you. His brows are knitted in concern, hands coming to cradle your biceps.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?”

You loop your arms over his shoulders, dragging the blunt of your nails along the back of his neck fondly. Maybe you should be more rattled — maybe you’ll crash in a little bit once the adrenaline high of the past few minutes comes down — but with the lightness in your chest, you suspect you’ll be okay. The feel of him on your biceps, and not the vile hands of moments ago, soothes over the residual anxiety. You smile, squishing his face between your fingers and placing a kiss to his pouting lips.

“Call me babe?”

He furrows his brow, searching your eyes for something, before murmuring a quiet “babe?” through your grip on his cheeks.

You laugh to yourself, grinning wide. Yeah, you’ll be fine. You place another kiss to his lips and return your hand to its home around his shoulders, gazing at him fondly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I should have got to hit him at least once, though.”

Laughter filters through the limo as he relaxes in your hold, and that’s when you know that he’ll be okay, too.

“He’s a little freak, Pickles.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The bad kind.”

“Yeah dude, I know.”

[reputationmunson]

In This Together | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The beginning of your journey through parenthood with Eddie

Content: pregnancy fic (reader finds out she’s pregnant), mentions of nausea and throwing up, fluff, use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9K

a/n: so this is the first part “series” and if you have any requests/things you would like to read for this please let me know and i will be more than happy to oblige!

_

For the past week, life has been throwing you punches left and right. 

On your way home from work one night, your car decided that in the middle of a thunderstorm would be the perfect time to break down. Luckily, your mechanic husband came to the rescue. Unluckily, he ordered chinese takeout for dinner to cheer you up, which led to you getting food poisoning. 

You’ve had to call off of work for the past five days due to being ill. Somehow, Eddie must’ve skipped on the side dish of foodborne illness because he never ended up getting sick. 

Eddie has been picking up a few extra shifts this week because you were so stressed about missing work and the effect that would have on your paycheck. Honestly, money hasn’t been much of an issue lately, but he insisted on working so his chance for a promotion would increase. 

You’ve been an emotional wreck without him lately. Every time he leaves you feel like he’s going off to war and you have no idea when he’ll return. He thinks it’s adorable while you think you’re going insane. Sometimes throughout the day you’ll spray his cologne, even though the scent has been making you a bit queasy for some reason. 

You haven’t been able to keep any food down, so you decided to give your mom a call and ask for her special soup recipe. She always made it when a friend or family member was sick and you swear it has healing powers. 

“Hi, mom. it’s me” you say, voice hoarse from all the throwing up. 

“Hi, sweetie. you sound awful, is everything okay?” 

Tears immediately fill your eyes when she asks. Your period must be coming soon because your emotions have been all over the place.

“Not really. I’ve had food poisoning and I can’t keep anything down, so I just wanted the recipe for your soup” 

“Oh, honey. Is Eddie there to make it for you?”

“N-no. he’s working like all the time recently because he’s up for a promotion and I just miss him so much that I think I'm losing my mind and I'm also starving but the thought of eating anything makes me want to puke '' you sob. 

“y/n, are you pregnant?” 

“what? no i’m not preg-” your voice drifts as realization hits you. You missed your period last month, but chalked it up to stress and this month is halfway over and you still haven’t gotten it. 

“y/n? are you there?” 

“y-yeah i’m here. I just, um, I think I need to sit down.” 

“I’m coming over, honey. don’t worry everything will be okay” 

In shock, you hang up the phone without saying another word. Could you really be pregnant? I mean, let’s be honest you and Eddie go at it like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. 

You and Eddie have discussed having kids on many occasions, but you both agreed to wait until the time was right. You wanted to move into a bigger house, nothing too fancy that you’d be paying off for the rest of your lives, but one big enough for your little rascals to run around. All you ever both wanted was a house filled with love and laughter, no matter how big or small. 

_

After anxiously sitting in silence, your mom walks through the door with handfuls of grocery bags and she looks just about as frazzled as you do. 

“yep. you’re pregnant.” is the first thing she says and you groan. “how do you know? Are you secretly psychic or something?” 

“all mothers are psychic, you’ll find that out very soon. So, I bought all the fixins for my soup, three pregnancy tests, and a gallon of water. Drink up, i’ll start cooking”

You pour yourself a glass of water and chug until there isn’t a drop left in the cup. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma! Between Eddie’s hair and your eyes, this baby is going to be beautiful.” 

“Alright, I’ll go take the tests but please don’t get your hopes up” 

In reality, you had your hopes up too. The thought of having a baby that was a mix of you and Eddie was the most amazing thing you could ever think of. You hoped they’d have his eyes, which if your kid is anything like their dad, they will use those big, brown eyes against you.

Maybe this hypothetical baby will even have a passion for music and Eddie can teach them how to play guitar. You can see it now. Your baby wouldn’t even be a year old before Eddie tried to form a family band. 

“Don’t look at the first test until you take the other two!” your mother shouts as you disappear into the bathroom. 

You take a deep breath to calm yourself after you're done and the anticipation is killing you. This plastic stick is holding the answer to your future and you still had two more to take before you could find out. 

_

Almost a gallon of water and three pregnancy tests later, the pink sticks lay face down on the bathroom sink counter. 

“Will you look for me? I can’t do it” 

“Let’s do it together, okay? This is a wonderful experience” your mom squeezes your hand and you try to gather yourself. 

On the count of three, you each pick one up and you gasp when you turn it around. 

Two pink lines

Two. Pink. Lines

“It’s positive!” you shriek, anxiety replaced with glee. “Are they all positive?” you scan over all three and they show the same result.

You start to cry again, but this time it’s happy tears. Like the tears you cried when Eddie told you he loved you for the first time, then again when he got down on one knee, and also when he vowed to love you for the rest of his life no matter what, a promise he’s yet to break and you are confident he never will. 

Your mom also begins to cry tears of joy while giving  a hug. She was right, this is a wonderful experience. 

When the thought crossed your mind during the phone call earlier, you were horrified. Now, you realize there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re having a baby with the man you love more than anything. 

“When are you going to tell him? I don’t know how long I can keep this in!” she exclaims 

“I’m telling him tonight I don’t think I can wait longer than that. But, please don’t say anything to anyone until we’re ready” 

“I won’t. Now, tell me how you’re gonna tell him!” 

_ 

Once your mom left, you decided to make yourself more presentable and set up a nice dinner for when Eddie got home. He would be home any minute and you were oozing with excitement. 

The table was set, soup was on the stove, and you had put the tests in a gift bag with some tissue paper. 

You had no worries about Eddie reacting badly to this news and not only did that soothe your nerves, it also reaffirmed that being with him was the best decision you ever made. 

You hear his vehicle pull into the driveway and you scurry over to the door, ready to greet him the second he walks in. 

“Eddie!” you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck right when he comes inside. “hey, baby” he arms wrap around your waist and pulls you into him. “How are you feeling?” he pulls back slightly to put his hand on your forehead to check if you have a temperature. 

“So much better now that you’re home” you nuzzle into him and bask in the feeling of his presence. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to make dinner. you’re sick” he pouts and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him. He tastes like spearmint gum with a hint of the chapstick you force him to wear because his lips are too pretty to be chapped. 

“My mom came over and made it, actually. she says hi, by the way” you lead him over to the couch and sit down. “Her special soup? fuck yeah” he says and you giggle at the enthusiasm. 

“So, I was gonna wait until dinner but I have a present for you” you say, giddily. “A present for lil ol’ me? oh you didn’t have to, darlin’” he says in a fake southern accent. “Stay here, you goof” 

You return to the living room, gift bag in hand and a big smile on your face. Eddie hasn’t seen your smile much since you got “food poisoning” and it’s the best present he can think of. For now, at least. 

“Don’t just stare at me! Open it!” you excitedly demand as you stand in front of him where he’s sat on the couch. 

“you’re just so goddamn pretty. i missed that smile” fuck, you love him so much. If you weren’t so nauseous and in anticipation for him to find out you're pregnant you’d take him to the bedroom and show him just how much you appreciate him. 

“Eddie, I love you, but if you don’t open it right now I’ll make sure to never smile again” you threaten and try not to smile, but you can’t help it. After all these years, you still feel the same way you did on your first date with him. Absolutely lovesick. 

“Jeez, no need for threats, Mrs. Munson” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes. 

He tears through the tissue paper like it’s christmas morning and stops in his tracks once he looks in the bag. 

“Is this?” He pulls out each test and stares intently at each one. “Are you?” He looks up at you with wide eyes and apparently he’s lost the ability to form a sentence. “yeah. we’re having a baby” and here come the waterworks again. Damn hormones. 

His hand rests on your stomach and you cover his hand with your own. “Are you okay with that?” you whisper and he stands up, hand still on your belly. “I’m - fuck- I thought I’d be scared shitless when this day came, but I’m not. Are you okay with this?” 

“I’m a little scared when I think of things like how we’re gonna have to move eventually and ya know, the whole childbirth part that’s probably gonna rip me to shreds, but I’m happy. Really happy” 

“Me too and I think I’m gonna get that promotion to manager, which comes with a huge raise. We’ve been saving up for this since we got married, babe. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“I’m gonna get huge” you whine and he chuckles then presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I know. think about how big your tits are gonna get” he jokes. “Eddie! this is supposed to be sentimental!” you chide with a laugh. “But, seriously. Are you still gonna love me when I'm all swollen and grumpy? or when I make you get me ice cream at two in the morning?” 

“First of all, you already make me get you ice cream at two in the morning. Second, you’re carrying our baby. If anything, I'm going to love you even more” he promises and pulls you into a loving hug. 

“Is it okay that I’m somewhat terrified?” you ask, words a little muffled from your face being buried in his chest. 

“I am too, but we’re in this together, yeah?” he assures you.

“yeah. together”

_

my baby fever has been through the roof lately i can’t wait to write more of these :)))

_

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

LOVING ‘THE OTHER HALF’! You literally write Bruce so perfectly… lowkey curious to see what would happen if the reader finds out he’s The Batman… 🫣

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Length: 3.9K

Warnings: Some angst; Bruce Wayne’s Top Notch Communication Skills and secret keeping; canon-typical violence

You’d thought—well, you’d hoped—that as time went on, the questions would go away. You’d hoped that his behavior would make me even more sense. 

It hasn’t. 

If anything, your perception of Bruce has become incredibly confusing. You enjoy your time with him, no matter what the two of you get up to—dinner, parties with his friends or your friends, a night in. More often than not, it’s a night in. After the incident at work, your boss started sticking you with opening shifts. The commute’s way less cantankerous from Bruce’s place, and you’re happy to spend the nights with him, anyway. You sleep better when he’s there. 

The problem is, he’s usually not there.

You always fall asleep with him, but you have awoken on more than one occasion to an empty bed, and an empty penthouse. You’ve texted Bruce on those nights, but his phone has always rung in the apartment. He leaves it sitting on the coffee table. Where the hell does he go without it? Does he have a burner phone? What kind of weird-rich-guy-eyes-wide-shut bullshit is he getting up to that he’s leaving his phone in the apartment for…Hours? You love him, but whatever it is that he’s keeping a secret is beginning to tear your apart.

You want to ask. You have been dying to ask, but it just never feels like the right time. 

-- 

“You and Brucie have been alright?” 

“Oh,” You flounder as Liz nudges your hip with hers, waiting expectantly for your answer. Your hands still over the nibbles that you were putting out on a tray before you resume mechanically loading the spinach puffs that you made. “It’s—Yeah, we’re good.” 

“When are you going to move in?” 

“What?” You splutter a laugh, unable to help it. “Why would I—Did he say something to you?” 

“Oh,” Liz raises her hands in defense. “Sorry. He said you were staying over a lot, you know.” 

“I mean, I have. He’s stayed at mine, too. He’s not moving in with me—definitely not moving in with me, Mish would never stand for it,” You taper off in a mumble. 

“Mish?” 

“My roommate, Michelle.” 

“I didn’t know you had a roommate.” 

“Mhm!” 

“Does she work in a store, too?” 

It feels like a loaded question, and it’s one that you would’ve taken as a jab when you first met Liz. But sometimes you realize that Bruce and his friends live so far above the average Gothamite that they don’t know what it's like to have to live from paycheck to paycheck, in narrow, badly lit apartments that most of your paycheck from your cruddy job goes to. You’re determined not to take offense when they make stupid, probably accidental demeaning comments. 

“Nope!” You chirp. “She’s an administrative assistant at a marketing agency.” 

“Oh! Could you do something like that?” 

You smile a touch tightly, your irritation welling. You’re certain that one was on purpose. 

“You know what, Liz, I think if I really wanted to, I could do just about anything.” 

“Are you two still gabbing in here?” 

You glance back at the sound of Bruce’s question, smiling sincerely at the sight of him. 

“We’re just catching up, having girl chat. Don’t be such a lurker, Wayne,” Liz scolds. She takes the tray that you’ve organized, shooting you a wink before heading for the living room. You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. Bruce reaches out, snagging one of the spinach puffs from Liz as she passes him. You smile as he takes a bite of the morsel, then grunts and shoves the rest of the bite into his mouth, sucking some melted feta off of his thumb. 

“Tasty?” You tease. 

“Very. Where’d you get the recipe?” He asks through the mouthful before he swallows.

“My mom.” 

“Mm. Thank her for me.” 

“Sure,” You chuckle. 

“What were you two talking about?” Bruce asks, bracing his hands on the counter behind you. 

“Nothing. Just…Like Liz said, girl stuff.” 

Bruce’s eyes narrow a touch as they wander your face. Then, “She said something about your job again, didn’t she.” 

“She kinda did.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her.” 

“It’s alright. If it really starts to bother me, I’ll talk to her about it myself.” 

“You sure?” 

“I’m positive. But thank you.” You reach up, straightening Bruce’s collar. You go still as you spot the blooming of an angry purple bruise on his skin. You know that it isn’t anything you’ve seen before, that it certainly wasn’t anything you could’ve inflicted. It turns your stomach. What the hell has he been getting up to? 

The question sits on your lips, but before you can say a thing, a thud comes from the other room. The sound makes your heart jolt, but you calm when it's chased by raucous laughter. You and Bruce turn your heads toward the sound, and you lower your hand from his shirt, folding your arms against your chest. 

“What do you think that was?” Bruce asks. 

“I don’t know, but they don’t don't strike me as the type to break out the Twister mat.” 

Bruce chuckles before he turns back toward you, his hands resting on your hips. When you don't reach for him in kind, he crowds closer, his smile faltering.

“What is it?” He plies, tipping his head. 

“Hm?” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” You answer too quickly. You know it by the way Bruce’s frown deepens. 

“What’s wrong?” His question has more of a concerned edge to it now. 

“Nothing is wrong,” You insist, speaking with a pointed slowness. “I’m just…” You search Bruce’s face, taking in the genuine, concerned expression on his face. 

Your questions are all crowding on your lips, threatening to spring forward. Where the hell does Bruce go at night? And how does he know the intimate details of things he oughtn’t? You’ve checked the recording of your interview from the store’s attempted burglary. There was no mention of the route that you and the burglar took to the back office—not from you, and not from the reporter, or your manager. There was no way for Bruce to know where the office was, unless he’d asked your manager—but if he had, she would’ve gushed to you about his speaking with her. 

What lie will he use this time? Spelunking, again? Base-jumping, maybe? You search for the words, drawing in a deep breath. You care so deeply for this man, but you can’t trust him.

“I—” You start, then go quiet, raising a hand and scrubbing it over your face, breathing, “Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.” 

"Can't do what?" Bruce reaches up, cupping your jaw and tipping your head toward him as worry twists his face. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?” 

“Bruce, I—” 

You freeze, stunned as you hear another loud pop in the hall, chased by the thudding of boots, and a yell of, “Get on the ground!” 

Before you can even think to react, Bruce draws you close, tugging you toward the island and pulling the two of you down to hide behind the counter, his head resting protectively on your head. Your heart drops into your churning stomach, fingers grasping nervously at him. The two of you listen as the boots thunder past you, down the hall, to where Liz and the others are screaming and panicking. Bruce peers over the counter slowly, looking around before he draws you up. You half-stumble after him with nervous feet, watching as he yanks a kitchen knife out of the holder and opening the pantry. He practically shoves you in, pressing the handle of the knife into your hand and warning, “Keep quiet, stay here.” 

“What?” You breathe, “No, nonono, Bruce, don’t—” You wince as he shoves the pantry door shut. You can just see through the slats that he’s running out of the kitchen. You stand trembling in the pantry, both hands wrapped around the knife's handle. You can hear footsteps, and a few more yelled orders before—

You yelp as the kitchen is plunged into darkness before you slap your hand over your mouth, as if you can snatch the sound from the air and shove it back inside. Your hand shakes, palms and fingers sweating around the knife. Your body is wracked with the same panic that you felt at work. You hear a yelp, a shout, a gunshot, and a few more screams. It’s another moment before you hear someone run into the kitchen. Your heart stills in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You flinch as you hear and see the flash of a gunshot. It’s closely followed by the grunting and groans of someone being beaten. They’re shoved into the counter next, and you hear the rattle of things being swept off of the counter. 

“Who are you?”

The question is gruff and sharp—the vigilante's tone is low, growling. You frown. You know it. You know that sound. You know that voice. You’ve heard it in rare occasions, in far more exciting moments—amorous moments in rooms that are often just as dark. You find yourself stepping closer, straining your ear to catch on the gruff voice again, over the babbling, panicked incoherence of the begging burglar. 

You close your eyes despite the dark of the room, taking in the sound of the voice. You know it—Oh, god you know it— 

“We just picked this random spot, man, we didn’t know who was in here!” The burglar swore. 

“And it just so happened that you weren’t otherwise occupied?” 

Occupied.

Your jaw drops open as your mind flashes to one of Liz’s bathrooms—to your hand smoothing a condom over Bruce’s length as he yells over his shoulder that the bathroom is occupied. There’s a pause, the clang of metal hitting bone, and the dull thud of a body falling to the floor. Before you can stop yourself, you yank the door open and hiss, “Bruce?” 

The kitchen is silent and still. The loudest sound is the thudding of your heart. 

“Get back inside.” 

Your knees go weak. It’s Bruce’s voice. But there’s no way he would’ve had time for someone else to leave, for Bruce to come in. 

“Get back inside,” He urges again. You take a few panicked steps back into the pantry, yanking the door shut again. Your hand holds tightly to the knife, your mind whirling with your revelation. 

When the cops find you, you’re still crouching in the pantry, a knife in your hand and tears in your eyes. Liz is a mess, insisting that Bruce has been kidnapped. You cover and reassure her—tell her that he couldn’t have been, that he left the kitchen right after he ate the spinach puff, that he’s probably back at the penthouse. 

Frankly, you’re not sure wherever the hell he might be, but hey. That’s nothing new. 

--  

He gets back to the penthouse at three in the morning. 

You’re probably not as startled as you should be, but you’re still wired and awake. You've spent the last few hours talking yourself in and out of the revelation. You didn't see who it was—you couldn't. The voice is familiar, sure, but you've heard audio recordings of Batman on the news, and it's wholly possible that someone just sounds like Bruce. You have grappled for every justification, every possibility, but in your heart, and in your gut, you know the truth.

You haven’t gotten a single call or a text from Bruce since the incident, and you look up to find Batman standing in the entryway of the apartment. You hesitate before you push yourself off of the couch. You take a few slow steps toward him, hands flexing nervously at your sides. He keeps quiet and still, as if he’s still hidden within the shadows. You take another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you. You raise your shaking hands carefully, resting your hands on his helmet. You gently lift it away, watching as it ruffles his hair. Your eyes sweep him—his tensed jaw, the darkness around his eyes. 

It’s surreal. You’ve known—you’ve suspected for the last few hours, but to see it now—to see Bruce in armor, to find the man you love behind the mask—

“Okay,” You manage, turning away from him and drawing in a deep breath to try and steady your wildly pounding heart. “Okay.” 

Your hands flex in the material of the mask, and you look down at it, tipping it to and fro. 

"Did you just have this stashed somewhere near Liz's?"

"No. I left by the fire stairs."

"And went where?"

"I had to go rattle a few cages."

“...It's been you the whole time?” You ask. 

“Yes.” 

“So what happened at the shop—” 

“I knew.” 

“And you came to mine and just acted like you had no idea?” 

“I had to make sure you were alright.” 

You stare down at the helmet, fingers sweeping over it. It’s so heavy. 

“...Who else knows?” You ask. 

“Alfred.” 

“Of course.” 

“And someone at Wayne Enterprises. Lucius Fox.” 

“Anyone else?” 

“...I told you about Rachel.” 

You nod, muttering, “Right.” Your fingers flex around the helmet. “How the hell did this—How did it start?” 

“...Can we talk after I take this off?” 

You glance back and find him gesturing to his body. You nod, holding the helmet out to him. Bruce hesitates before he takes it. He doesn’t go. He just looks over you. You shake your head a touch. 

“What?” You ask. 

“Are you alright?” 

For all of your muddled feelings, a little bit of your anger and confusion melts. “Yes. Are you?” 

Bruce nods a little before he turns away fully, eyeing the mask in his hands as he heads down the hall. You can only resist the urge to follow for a few moments. You stand in the doorway of his bedroom, watching the shades come down. He glances back at the sound of you before he begins to remove his armor. You tip your head to the side, watching him shove a row of suits in his closet aside and open a panel on the wall, jabbing a few buttons before you hear a hiss. You watch him step inside and out of sight. 

This could still be fake, right? This could still be fake. He could’ve just used his, like, millions of dollars to get an exact replica of the suit…But it wouldn’t explain why he knew exactly what had happened at the shop. It would explain his weird bruises, his nighttime disappearances. 

You straighten up as you hear Bruce come back, watch him tugging his sweatpants up and over his hips. He’s facing away from you, opening a dresser drawer. You pass the closet as you approach him, just catching sight of the suit descending before the back panel slides closed, obscuring the compartment from view. 

You can see Bruce's body clearly now, for the first time—and it’s beyond bruising. There are scratches and marks riddling his back and sides. Most of them seem old, and faded. You can see the span of the bruise—the radiating bloom of it spreading from his neck, stretching to the slope of his shoulder. You reach out hesitantly, resting your hands on his hips. He goes still—in tension, confusion, you’re not sure. You crowd up close, brushing a gentle kiss to the tender skin. His shoulders relax under the carress, his body leaning back into yours just a little. You smooth your hands gently over the ridges of his abs, nuzzling into his neck. 

You watch Bruce raise his hand, reaching for the light switch. 

“Don’t,” You mumble. When he goes still, you tip your chin up, lips brushing the shell of his ear:

“I wanna see you.” 

Bruce glances guardedly at you over his shoulder before he dips his head. He lowers hand to rest on yours, gently prying it from him. Your stomach flips nervously, then settles as Bruce slowly turns to face you. You can’t help the way your eyes skate and wander his torso, catching on each additional bruise, each fading scar. You raise your hands, gently running them down over his shoulders. You shiver as Bruce raises his in turn, smoothing them up your back.

You crowd closer, pressing your face into Bruce’s neck. He curls his arms around you, nuzzling your temple. You press another careful kiss to the bruise, squeezing your eyes shut as your emotions swell sharply. It’s almost too much to take, knowing that this man who spends his days among Gotham’s elite, grinning at paps, feigning ignorance and carelessness, spends his nights trying to make the city a safer place. You lean back from him, raising your hands to hide your face, and the prickling of tears in your eyes. Bruce doesn’t immediately tug you back in—he gives you some space. You draw in a shaky breath, clearing your face and scrubbing at your face to try to stave the tears off. 

“Okay,” You mumble. “Okay. I need a drink, and you—” You wave in his direction, “You need to talk.” 

--  

It takes him time—time that clearly pains him, that he doesn’t seem to want to take. The two of you sit on opposite ends of his couch. He’s sprawled out across the cushions; you’re scrunched up on the other side, leg bouncing anxiously. When he comes to a stop, he’s staring down at his hands. It’s only a moment before he tacks on, 

“I’m sorry.” 

You frown, shaking your head. It’s confusing. What the hell is he sorry for? Lying? 

“I shouldn’t have let you find out. I think it may be best if we…Part ways.” 

Your gaze lifts to his, brows knitted. 

“...Are you kidding me?” You ask after a moment. 

“No, I’m not—” 

“Oh—” You laugh, stunned, unable to help yourself, springing off of the couch with all of your nervous, pent-up energy. “Oh, that is bullshit, Bruce.” 

“It is not bullshit!” He barks back. “It’s for your safety!” 

“If you wanted me to be safe, you wouldn’t have said a word in the kitchen. You would’ve just gone on your way—or kept using that—that stupid gruff sex voice you use—” 

“Sex voice?” 

“You know, that,” You scrunch your face up, “That, you know, when you—” You clear your throat and lower your voice, letting out a garbled, growling noise. 

“I do not sound like that.” 

“You have before. Like, more than once.” 

“It is not a sex voice.” 

“And it is bullshit, for the record,” You add again, planting your hands on your hips. “If you really, really wanted to cover it, you would’ve stayed in the apartment for when the cops got there, faked that you were as freaked out as everyone else. Or you would’ve come back to the apartment in your regular clothes and told me you’d just stepped out for some air and the cops had kept you from coming back inside. You’re as tired of hiding this from me as I am of you hiding it.” 

Bruce’s face falls, and he shifts in his seat to brace his elbows on his thighs, looking down at his empty hands. 

“I didn’t know that you knew something was…Off,” Bruce admits softly. 

“Not a clue?” 

“A few hints, but I didn’t think it was about the suit.” 

“...Okay, two things,” You close your eyes, holding up two fingers as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not just about the suit, it is about what you do in the suit. I get why now, but—You know.” 

“What’s the other thing?” 

“What the heck did you think I was off about?” 

“I know you’re not stupid. I know you’ve seen some of the blood, some of the bruises. Guess I thought I’d covered it well enough.” 

You can’t help but scoff. 

“With what?” You ask incredulously. “The polo, the base-jumping, the spelunking, or the invisible shaving cuts?” 

“Alright,” Bruce groans, running his hand through his hair. You’re quiet for a moment, looking him over before you turn away from him. 

You can’t tell him not to do it. You can’t pretend that Batman hasn’t done good for this city, or that you haven’t been at the receiving end of it, seen it firsthand. If it had been different—if Bruce had come to you with the idea of an undertaking of the sort, rather than having already established himself as a vigilante—you would’ve told him that it was a ghastly idea, that he’d have himself killed in a day. Still, knowing what Bruce gets up to, night after night, is making your stomach squirm. 

You hear the creak of him rising off of the couch, then feel him coming up behind you. 

“Look,” He sighs, “Batman doesn’t exactly have friends in this city. If you’re linked to him, you could get hurt.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip. 

“I doubt I could ever be linked to Batman when I’m not even linked to Bruce Wayne,” You counter.

Bruce reaches out, resting his hands on your hips, tugging you back. You wobble, then sway back into him a little reluctantly. You stare down at the floor, considering. 

You could still cut ties. Your acquaintance is early enough that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows among his friends, or your parents—and, all things considered, maybe Alfred.

“If you want me out of here, tell me,” You finally say, just managing to hide your dismay. 

“It’s—” Bruce starts before he sighs heavily, grip tightening on you. “I want you safe.” 

“I’m safe with you.” 

Bruce curls his arms around your middle, pressing his face into your shoulder. “But what if, one day, you’re not?” 

You glance down at Bruce. You find his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in upset and fear. You go quiet for a moment, then rest your head against his, closing your eyes. You can’t blame him for the assumption. He lost his parents to the city. He doesn’t want to lose you, too. 

You turn in his arms, curling your arms around his shoulders and drawing him in. Bruce burrows close, fingers grasping desperately at your shirt. You press a kiss to his head, combing your fingers through his hair. Bruce takes his time straightening before he cups your cheeks, smoothing his thumbs over your cheekbones. He takes in your face slowly, as if it’ll be the last time. You draw a deep breath in through your nose, steadying yourself. Oh, no. 

“Can we go to bed?” You plead before he can say anything else. “Talk about this more in the morning?” 

Bruce hesitates, then nods, mumbles, “Alright.” 

--  

Bruce takes his time joining you under the covers. You let yourself watch him, and think. You’re almost afraid to go to sleep. You’re almost afraid for the sun to come up. You can’t fathom what he’ll say then.

But tonight, when he shuts the lights off, he leaves the blinds up. You can make him out in the dim light of the room as he lays down beside you, as the two of you settle down on your sides and watch one another. You reach out, resting your hand on his cheek as he takes your other hand in his. He nuzzles into your touch, his eyes slipping closed. You see him take in a deep breath, then push it out slowly.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Bruce looks completely relaxed. He’s not shrouded or hidden from you. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as he turns his head, brushing his lips against your palm. 

Next Part

[reinemichele]

Okay I started to type this out on this post but I don't think OP would want to hear about all that (which honestly applies to every story in my family) and I had already decided Not to talk about black lung on their post (but yes a lot of men on my mom's side of the family died of black lung <3)

Anyway . Uhhh I'm not sure how many details I should include, I don't want this to get too long... I can talk more about my dad's parents in a different post later on, but it's not really relevant right now.

So, when my dad was 17 and my mom was 15, they were out walking and saw someone getting mugged. My dad tried to help the guy, who was able to get away, but the mugger stabbed my dad in the spine with a knife <3

My dad was in ICU for over a month and was told he'd never walk again. Neither of his parents came to visit, but when my dad started getting disability paychecks, my dad's dad cashed them <3 "so that this can be your rent" <3 (And then had the nerve to, years later, ask my parents why they didn't tell him that they were having a baby 😀 [Name] if you weren't already fucking dead, when I get you--)

The food at the hospital was awful, so every day my mom would get my dad food from del taco and take it to him. It was a 45 minute drive to the hospital and then several floors up to the ICU.

This is where it gets relevant lol so . my mom, obviously, comes from the same lineage I do, and has also always been terrified of elevators. So she'd walk up several flights of stairs, every day, for over a month. Sometimes hospital staff would ask her if the elevators weren't working, and then she'd have to be like . no but they scare me 😥

Anyway, if you're curious, my dad did end up walking again. Doctors said it was a miracle. He lost sensation in part of one of his legs, so he had to be careful about where it was/what it was touching, like the surface of a really hot car, etc. But he did survive a life-threatening spinal wound and managed to avoid becoming permanently paralyzed.

My mom always says that he used up too many of his 9 lives early in life (IE when he was a baby he had a really high fever that no one thought he'd survive, but all it did was eliminate 80% of his hearing in one ear) and that's why he died at 41 (car accident). But that's really neither here nor there; I just wanted to talk about how... funny, but only funny in the sense of "yeah, I'm mentally ill in that exact same way, too" not "haha what a loser wimp baby", how funny it is that my mom opted to walk up several flights of stairs every single day instead of using the elevator a single time. And how funny (in a sad way) it is that you can trace our fear of tight spaces back to a family of coal miners.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Two (Harry Styles)

a/n: you guys thank you so much for all the love you’ve showed part one!! 🥺 im so happy you like the story! i wanted to post part two a little later, in the weekend but i got so happy for all the reactions that i decided to move it earlier so here it is! i’ll try to update soon, the longest it will take is one week probably. im working on my thesis and have a lot of school work so please be patient with me! feedback is very much welcomed, as always, your reactions and comments mean so much to me!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 10.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

Pulling Izzy out of daycare dramatically lessened the amount of time she could spend with her friends, so the situation needs extra attention on her socializing. You’ve been trying to take her to the park as much as possible so she could meet with kids her age and Harry has been arranging a lot of playdates for her with her friends from daycare.

When you come back from meeting your brother for lunch on a Sunday, you are greeted with not two, but eight little feet running around the living room, many of Izzy’s toys have been brought downstairs and the coffee table is filled with fruits, snacks and drinks for the kids. You know the two little guests, it’s Yara and Zac, the three of them were like a little gang back when Izzy was attending daycare. Yara’s moms and Zac’s mom are sitting on the terrace, letting the kids roam around freely, Harry is in the kitchen preparing some sandwiches for the guests when you arrive back.

“Hi, do you need help with anything?” you ask, catching his attention.

“Oh, hi! No I’m fine, thank you. How was lunch with your brother?”

“Great,” you smile at him before leaving him to do whatever he has to do.

“Miss Y/N!” Yara greets you, waving in your way while munching on an apple slice.

“Hello Yara, Zac,” you smile at them before walking out to the terrace to greet the parents. “Hi! Ava, Saige, it’s nice to see you again. And Linda, hello!”

“Y/N, hi! Harry told us you might return soon, so good to see you!” Ava greets you as you join them at the table. They’ve been the nicest parents while you were working at the daycare, though you weren’t the only victim of the closed-minded cowards that got you fired. Ava and Saige have faced quite a lot of backlash for basically daring to be a same-sex couple out in the open. You’ve heard many complaints from other parents about how they don’t want them to pick up their daughter together. Apparently, it’s confusing for the kids to see two women to be the mothers of the same child. Ridiculous.

“I was out having lunch with my brother. How have you been?”

“Things are the same, you know,” Saige shrugs with a scowl. “But your firing has got us thinking about pulling Yara out as well.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, it’s starting to get really ridiculous. I mean it’s one thing that we get weird looks, but firing you was kind of the last straw,” Ava nods.

“And how have you been here, Y/N? How is working for Harry?” Linda asks.

“Oh, it’s amazing, really. I love taking care of Izzy, she is so easy to handle and I love seeing her learn and grow. And Harry is a great boss, I got really lucky.”

“Lucky indeed!” Ava smirks, making them all laugh as you feel yourself blushing. “Even I sometimes dream about the man,” she adds, keeping her tone down.

“How do you keep your cool?” Linda sighs. “If I had to live with this man, I would go nuts.”

“Well, Izzy keeps me pretty busy, and he is my boss, so…”

“It’s not like HR would be up your ass if you got involved,” Saige shrugs, taking a sip from her iced tea.

You don’t get to react, the kids run out, taking over the playground, Harry arriving right behind them with a plate filled with sandwiches for the guests.

“Ladies, sorry for the wait,” he smiles, placing the food to the table as he joins your little circle.

“Oh Harry, thank you so much!” Ava sighs, grabbing one already. “We were just talking to Y/N about how big of an upgrade it is for her to work here.”

“Is it?” he asks, slightly surprised as he glances over at you.

“I mean, the paycheck is better and it’s clearly a better environment,” you chuckle shrugging.

“I just don’t know why Claire lets those assholes control the place. She is the boss there, she should stand up against them,” Linda scowls.

“She is just trying to avoid confrontation.”

“No, she is afraid they would stop paying the daycare the money, so she is an ass-kisser,” Saige scoffs, making you laugh.

“Well, at least I have Y/N now to take good care of Izzy,” Harry smiles, his eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart skips a beat when he says that he has you.

“Lucky bastard!” Ava throws her hands into the air, making everyone laugh.

Enjoying the company, you stay outside instead of locking yourself up in your room. It’s nice to see the moms occasionally pick on Harry, they surely like to joke about him being a hot single dad, but he usually just blushes and smiles at the compliments. Linda and Zac leave first, then Ava, Saige and Yara head home as well when it’s nearing five in the afternoon. Though Harry tells you to just leave the cleanup for him, you insist on helping.

“Now I feel bad you are working on your day off,” he huffs as you help him around in the kitchen.

“It’s not working,” you roll your eyes. “I live here too, of course I’m gonna help keeping it clean.”

“You know, if your brother ever wants to come over, feel free to invite him.”

“Might take your word, because he is very curious about the place,” you chuckle. Harry smiles as he starts washing the dishes.

“He is welcomed anytime.”

“Thank you.” Putting away the snacks that was left you start drying the dishes while he is washing them, working next to each other in silence. Unlike his usual attire, he is now wearing just a plain white t-shirt with light-washed jeans. “You’re quite the moms’ favorite,” you tease him, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Saige and Ava like to pull my leg, but I know they mean well.”

“They are great people, I always liked them,” you smile glancing at him.

“I remember when I first met them at a parents’ meeting, they spotted how lost I was among all the moms and asked if I wanted to sit with them. Then Izzy became friends with Yara so we met quite a few times.”

“I find it a little funny we never met while I was working at the daycare. Izzy was in my group for almost a year and we just never ran into each other.”

Harry licks his lips before turning his gaze to you, finishing up the dishes and turning the water off.

“I saw you.” Your eyebrows shoot up. How did you not see him?

“Really?”

“Yeah, just a few times. Mostly it was Ruth who picked up Izzy these past few months. I had a huge project that ended just before you started here, so I didn’t have the chance to pick her up that much. But I saw you a few times. You were just always busy with the kids, I guess… you didn’t notice me,” he shrugs, holding his arms on his chest as he leans against the counter.

“It could get pretty intense sometimes even though it was just a daycare,” you chuckle, remembering to all the tantrums and fussy dramas that happened between the kids. Sometimes it felt more like a high school than a daycare, especially when friends were taken and lovestories happened through lunchtimes.

“Daddy! What are we having for dinner?” Izzy runs into the kitchen, tippy-tapping her hands on the counter that she can barely reach.

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“Yes! Maccy cheese!” Izzy cheers throwing her hands into the air. Harry smiles down at her, ruffling her hair and you can’t push down a smile at what she just called mac and cheese.

Harry starts prepping for dinner, he puts on some music that Izzy dances to and though you try to leave them be and enjoy their alone time, Izzy insists you stay and help as well.

“Izzy, let Y/N do what she wants, this is her day off,” Harry warns her, making her pout her lips at you. Not that you would have said no to her, but now you definitely can’t leave.

“It’s alright. I’m happy to help.”

Izzy sits on the counter in a safe distance from the stove, her duty is to watch the pasta cook while Harry takes care of the sauce and you set the table, knowing it won’t take long for the food to be ready.

“Daddy?” Izzy speaks up, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes, baby?”

“I love Maccy cheese. Does mom like it too?”

Harry’s eyes flicker over to you, as if he is embarrassed you caught a moment that shouldn’t have been revealed and you can tell he is still kind of torn how to handle the mentioning of his late wife. You keep a straight face, making yourself busy with cleaning off the counter top. You wouldn’t want to make him think he can’t talk about Maggie in your presence.

“Um, yeah. Mommy loves mac and cheese,” he nods, giving her knees a little squeeze before moving her off the counter to take care of the pasta.

Your eyes meet Harry’s gaze when you bring some water to the table and you can tell he is still thinking about the slip you just heard, but you give him a soft smile, trying your best to assure him nothing bad happened.

Izzy babbles through dinner about everything she did with Yara and Zac today, excited to see them as soon as possible and Harry promises her to arrange a meeting for them in the park sometime next week. You try to help with cleaning up, but Harry doesn’t let you, so pouring yourself a nice glass of wine you sit in the living room to watch some TV before going to bed. After dinner, Harry takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath and once that’s done she is allowed to play some more in her room.

Harry joins you soon on the couch with a glass of wine as well, seemingly tired from all the socializing he did. Peeking at him while the evening news is playing on the screen, you notice that he is not even paying attention, deep in his thoughts he is pulling on his bottom lip like he always does whenever he is deep in focus. You have a guess what he is thinking about, but you want to give him the time and space to figure out if he is ready to share or not.

“I, uhh—I never really told you why it’s just Izzy and I,” he speaks up and you turn to him with patience, knowing the importance of him bringing it up. “My wife… Maggie, she… We got married about six years ago and then two years later we had Izzy. She was six months old when Maggie…”

He is struggling to find the words, or to just even think about it and you don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you about any of it.

“Harry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I always feel bad that I don’t talk about her, makes it look like I’m trying to forget about her, but that’s not at all the case, it’s just… hard to think about how long it’s been and I still feel like it was just… last week.”

Harry sniffles and you’re not sure if it’s because he is getting emotional to the point where he is going to start crying or it’s nothing significant, but you feel the urge to assure him about your support. Reaching over you put your hand to his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes first fall to your hand and then to you, a sense of softness shining back from his green irises as he lets out a shaky breath.

“It was a car accident. She was driving home late night from her sister’s and a drunk driver ran the red light, crashed right into her car. They both were rushed into hospital, but Maggie’s lungs collapsed and she… they couldn’t help her. The guy had surgery and though he broke quite a few bones and had a serious concussion, he survived.”

You have to bite into your bottom lip, already feeling the tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. You can only imagine what it’s like to be called and find out your wife was killed because of the dumb mistake of someone else. And to think that Izzy was still so small, Harry was left with a baby and the immense grief so suddenly, it must have been the toughest time he had to go through.

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” you quietly tell him, his eyes flickering up to meet yours and they are glistening from the tears. He just nods, blinking a few times before drinking up his wine.

Before anything else could be said, you hear Izzy running down the stairs, soon throwing herself to the couch, cuddling to Harry’s side.

“Hey baby, want to go to sleep already?” he asks, softly brushing through her hair with his fingers. Izzy nods, blinking sleepily. Harry scoops her into his arms standing up from the couch and he is reaching for his empty glass, but you take it before he could.

“I’ll wash it, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, holding Izzy tight before the two of them disappear upstairs.

You don’t stay out too long yourself either, washing the glasses you let a single tear run down your cheek before quickly wiping it away and heading up to your room.

The past two years you’ve been taking gigs as a photographer more and more, going to weddings, birthday parties, baby showers or anniversaries to snap photos of others’ most precious moments. You are not a professional, nor do you treat yourself as one, but the more events you attended and the more work you put out, the more popular you started to get. Now you have about two bookings every month and you are able to ask for a quite impressive amount of money for a session that people are willing to pay for your pictures.

You’ve been putting off your gigs since you moved into the Styles mansion, wanting to focus on all the changes in your lives, but now that you’ve gotten quite used to your new life one month into it, you are getting back to your usual. This Saturday you’re doing a photoshoot of a soon-to-be-wedded pair who also booked you for their upcoming wedding in a few weeks. It’s kind of an engagement photoshoot since they couldn’t do one when they got engaged months ago, but they didn’t want to miss out on the chance to do one before they official tie the knot.

Harry and Izzy are planning to go to the zoo today, something she’s been begging to do for weeks now and Harry finally gave in, so all three of you are going to be quite busy today. The photoshoot takes place at this fancy, mid-century styled café the couple chose, so you decide to dress up yourself a little too. Putting on a maroon colored pencil skirt that hugs your hips and waist tight, you tuck into it a white silky blouse, making you appear like some kind of eyecandy assistant straight out of a Hollywood movie, especially with your low bun, which is less for the look but more for practicality, since you don’t like it when your hair gets caught in the straps of your camera.

Swinging your camera bag to one shoulder and your handbag to the other one, your camera hanging from your neck, you head downstairs, rushing a little because you’re short on time already. Izzy is sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is packing them some lunch and snacks for the day.

“Oh! Y/N, you look so pretty!” Izzy beams at you when you near the corner. She is dangling her legs playfully, her piggy tails curling adorably on each sides of her head. Harry’s head snaps up and his lips part upon spotting you.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” you smile at her, caressing her cheek, tickling her a little that makes her giggle.

“Where are you going?” she asks curiously.

“Izzy, don’t question her all the time, that’s not too nice,” Harry warns her, but you just shake your head.

“It’s alright. I have a photoshoot today. I have to take pictures of a couple that’s going to get married soon,” you explain to her and Harry’s ears perk up, eyeing the camera that’s hanging from your neck.

“I didn’t know you are a photographer,” Harry hums, closing the cooler.

“Well, I’m not a professional, but I’ve been doing photoshoots here and there.”

“That’s amazing!” he smiles warmly.

“Thanks. Well, I gotta go because I’m running a little late. Have fun at the zoo!” you smile, at them before walking out. You reach the front door but stop for a moment to read the text the bride has sent you letting you know they are running a little late as well. That’s when you hear the conversation between Harry and Izzy coming from the kitchen.

“She looked so pretty!” Izzy sighs. You expect Harry to just hum or ignore her words, but for your surprise, he answers her.

“Yeah, she really does.”

You blush like a teenage girl, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest as you smile, walking out of the house.

The father-daughter duo is still out when you get home later. You make yourself a tea and sit out to the terrace with your computer, starting to edit the photos right away so you can send then over to the couple as soon as possible. They turned out pretty good, you love the colorful vibe the café had and it went well with the pair’s outfits.

You get so into editing that you don’t even notice Harry and Izzy arriving home, just when the sliding door opens and Izzy runs up to you, holding a stuffed animal that appears to be an otter.

“Y/N, look what daddy got me!” she cheers holding up the toy.

“Oh my god, it’s really cute!” You pull her to sit on your lap as she hugs the toy, clearly happy to have a new addition to her already existing army. Harry walks out with a bottle of water and a glass. Joining the two of you at the table, he pours some water for Izzy and makes her drink it.

“We spent an entire hour watching the otters,” he chuckles, brushing Izzy’s hair out of her face as she chugs the water down.

“Can’t blame you, they are really cute,” you chuckle. Izzy puts the empty glass down and hops off your lap before announcing that she is gonna show her new toy around in the backyard before running away from you.

“Are those… the pictures from today?” Harry shyly asks, eyeing your laptop’s screen.

“Oh, yeah. Wanted to get a headstart on editing,” you nod turning it so he can have a better look. “Want to see what I got so far?”

“Of course!” he nods smiling.

You click through the photos you’ve already edited, there are about ten in total and you’re quite satisfied with how they turned out to be.

“Wow, they look… really good, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you smile blushing a little.

“What events do you usually do?”

“Mostly weddings and engagement shoots, birthdays, these kinds of stuff.”

“It’s really amazing,” he nods smiling.

“I… Hope you won’t be mad but I’ve shot a few pictures of Izzy too these past weeks,” you admit, hoping he won’t get upset for you, doing it without his permission. “I didn’t use them anywhere, I wasn’t planning to, I just thought they were nice moments.”

“Oh, can I see them?”

“Of course!”

Opening up the folder you put her pictures into, you start clicking through the few photos you took of her. There’s one of her during her swimming lesson, laughing happily as she holds onto the edge of the pool, her wet locks sticking to her head. Then there’s one when the two of you were baking cupcakes and she got icing all over her face and tried to lick it off, her tongue sticking out on the picture. There are some of her just roaming around the backyard, exploring the bugs hiding in the grass, some of her napping with her favorite stuffed animals on the couch and then the last one was taken when she was jumping in her bed, you caught her up in the air, the widest smile on her face as she was laughing straight into the camera.

“Y/N, these are… wow. They are all so good, I love them!”

“Really?” Your smile grows wide, happy that he likes them.

“Yeah! Do you think… do you think you can send them to me?”

“Of course! I can get them printed for you, if you’d like. There’s a place where I go to get my photos printed, they make them look like they were taken on an analog, old school camera, I love that little extra touch on the pictures.”

“That would be fantastic,” he smiles, clearly in awe of your work.

You spend the rest of the afternoon editing while Harry and Izzy take over the kitchen as usual. When you’re on your way up to your room with your laptop after you decided to call it a day, you catch them in there, Izzy making Harry dance around with her while they are chopping the veggies. Harry is swaying his lips to the rhythm, humming to the song as Izzy is jumping and twirling around, singing from the top of her lungs. Despite the terrible loss of her mother, there’s no doubt Izzy is having the best possible childhood, getting all the love she deserves from her dad and you feel happy you are here to witness them grow together.

You did not see your parents’ divorce coming, probably because it’s been over six years since you’ve moved out and you only saw them every other week at best. You always tried to come around as often as possible, wanting to spend time with Trevor and of course, them as well, but you had to focus on building your own life. You had to worry about your work, your own living space and not much later you started dating Keith so you were pretty busy to say the least. You weren’t there when things started to go downhill, but Trevor was. He had to suffer through every fight and screaming match they had without any support and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you couldn’t just move back home. However you’ve always tried to do everything you could to support him through these hard times. He knew he could call you anytime he had enough of the spiteful atmosphere at home and you were quick to come to his rescue.

You were mad at your parents, there’s no need to lie about it. But not because of getting a divorce, you knew better than to expect them to suffer in a marriage they weren’t happy in, but the way they handled has always been just… unacceptable. Especially because in the midst of their anger and hatred towards each other they started to forget that they still had a kid living home who had to listen to everything they threw at each other, things no son should ever hear about his parents, no matter if they were true or not.

Being a teenager in high school is stressful enough as it is, but having to deal with your parents’ nasty divorce is just something no teenager should have to go through. Trevor has been dealing with it for a while now and he is trying his best to just shut them out whenever they are going at it, but sometimes it’s not that easy. That’s when he seeks comfort at you.

It’s a Thursday evening when your parents decide to drive Trevor up the wall with their screaming and fighting again. You’re watching a movie with Izzy and Harry in the entertainment room, working on your laptop simultaneously, confirming some photoshoots for the upcoming weekends. Harry has let Izzy play with his hair while watching the movie, so now she is all over her daddy, decorating his hair with little hairclips and hair ties while the man is just sitting there without a complaint.

Your phone starts buzzing on the couch and Trevor’s photo is flashing on the screen. Putting the laptop aside, you grab your phone and walk out of the room not to disturb them with your call.

“Hey!” you greet him happily, but your stomach immediately drops when you hear him draw a shaky breath on the other end of the line. “Trev? What’s wrong?”

“Can I please spend the night at yours?” he pleads weakly.

“What happened, are you alright?” you perk up right away.

“It’s just… dad came over this afternoon and they went at it again and now they are doing it over the phone, mom is like really out of her mind right now. I have a math test tomorrow and I don’t think I can sleep here like this. She is still screaming at him over the phone.”

“I’m leaving right now, pack a bag, alright?”

“Thanks,” he breathes out and ends the call. Rushing back into the entertainment room Harry turns to you while Izzy is still busy with his hair.

“Uh, I know it’s really sudden and all, but my brother just called, would it be fine if he spent the night over here?” Even though Harry himself told you it’s fine to have people over, you still feel like you need to ask for his permission, especially if your guest is planning to stay the night.

“Is he alright? Of course he can come over.” Sitting straight up he asks Izzy to sit down a little which she gladly does, turning her attention towards the movie.

“It’s just, um, our parents are having another scream match. They are… They are in the middle of getting a divorce and they are not handling it right,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Do you need me to come with you? You seem very upset, you sure you can drive?”

“No, it’s alright, but thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be back soon with him and thank you so much for letting him stay,” you breathe out. He just nods with a sympathetic smile before you turn around and leave.

Through the drive over to the house where you grew up your anger just grows with each turn you take. You love your parents to death, they raised you in a quite unusual and hard situation, they had to grow up with you when they had you so young, but they always made sure to give you everything you needed. And you know they have the same kind of love towards Trevor, but their hatred for each other is blinding them and they probably don’t even realize how much it affects him, but you are not letting them ruin everything because they fell out of love. Trevor deserves the same kind of supportive and loving environment to grow up in just like the one you had and there’s nothing that could change that.

Pulling up to the driveway you take a deep breath as you march up to the front porch and use your keys to let yourself in. The shouting hits your ears right away, it’s coming from the kitchen, but Trevor is the first one you spot on the top of the stairs. His hood is on and he has a backpack in his hands as he comes down the stairs with a pained and tired face.

“Hey! Left the car open, go get in there, I’ll be out in a minute,” you softly tell him as you give him a quick hug.

“Thanks,” he mumbles before walking out.

Following your mother’s voice to the kitchen you find her with a half empty bottle of wine, cussing your father out through the phone.

“Go and fuck that bitch you went out to have dinner with last weekend! Yes I know about that!” she spats and you wince at her words.

“Mom!” you call out, but she doesn’t even register your voice.

“Fuck you, Fred! Fuck you!” she continues, so you raise your voice a little more.

“Mom!” This time she finally hears it and turning around she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming,” she adds, her voice soft and weak this time, the anger long gone from it.

“I’m here to pick Trevor up. Put dad on speaker, I want to have a word with you two,” you tell her firmly and she gulps hard, nodding as she sets the phone to the counter, putting your dad on speaker.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” you hear him question from the other end of the line.

“I could ask the same thing!” you snap back, fed up with the way they have been acting. They might have lost a good chunk of their youth because they were busy taking care of you after having at just nineteen, but that doesn’t give them the right to act like literal cavemen in front of your brother.

“Trevor called me all upset, begging me to come and get him. What is wrong with you two? You have been at each other’s throats all the damn time, it is not healthy not just for Trevor but to either of you!”

“Y/N, sweetie, there’s just a lot going on—“ your mother tries to explain, but you cut her off.

“I don’t fucking care! Whatever is going on between the two of you, Trevor should be first! No matter what! He needs you both, he needs the support and love, but he is only getting the screaming and fighting. This is not right!”

“It’s a hard situation, you have to be patient with us, Y/N,” your father sighs over the phone and you can’t hold your ironic laughter back.

“Patient? I’ve been patient with you these past about five months since you’ve been literally tearing each other to pieces. Do yourselves and everyone else a favor and just get it over with. Dad, pick up all your stuff and don’t come here for mom’s sake. Mom, don’t snoop around dad’s life, because it’s not your business anymore. Stop being ignorant and maybe start to think about the kid you still have living near you.”

Your words might have been harsh, but it needed to be said. You can tell by your mother’s shocked expression and from the way your dad is dead silent in the call that your message finally hit them in the head and you hope they are willing to get their shit together so Trevor doesn’t lose his mind.

“Trevor is staying with me tonight, we’ll see when he wants to come back, but you better think about what I just told you,” you warn them before walking out and leaving them to think about their actions finally.

Trevor stays silent on the road back to Harry’s and you don’t try to force him to talk, it’s clear he has had enough for today. Arriving back home you park your car next to Harry’s Range Rover and the two of you walk inside in silence.

It’s past Izzy’s bedtime so you’re not surprised to find only Harry in the kitchen when you walk into the house. Harry seems cautious, almost worried as he spots you and Trevor in the hallway.

“Trevor, this is my boss, Harry. Harry, this is my brother, Trevor,” you introduce them to each other quickly. They shake hands with a manly nod.

“Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” Trevor clears his throat, feeling a little out of place.

“No worries. Feel free to use any of the guest bedrooms,” Harry smiles softly.

“Oh, we’ll be fine sleeping in my room,” you assure him but Harry shakes his head at your words.

“We have plenty of space. Please, use them!”

“Thank you,” Trevor mumbles and you shoot Harry a thankful look before walking your brother upstairs.

You opt for the room next to yours, Help Trevor get comfortable, making sure he has everything he needs for the night.

“Did you get into a fight with mom and dad?” he asks, when you are sitting on the edge of his bed, about to leave him alone.

“I just told them to get their shit together,” you chuckle, giving his leg a squeeze under the covers. He cracks a smile at you, but it’s not as genuine as it should be. “I’ll drive you to school in the morning. My room is right next to this one, come over if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Good night, Trev,”you tell him switching the lights off and walking towards the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” he calls after you before you close the door, letting out a long breath.

As you make your way down to the kitchen you see that Harry is still there, his eyes snap up to you, filled with concern and worry.

“Everything alright?” he asks as you make yourself a tea.

“Yeah, he was just fed up with the constant screaming. I can’t blame him, my mother didn’t even realize I was there until I raised my voice at her.”

“I’m sorry about that. Must be hard dealing with high school and a nasty divorce.”

“It is,” you sigh. “But thank you for letting him stay, really.” “I meant it when I said it’s just as much your home as it is ours. He can come over anytime, don’t worry about that,” he shrugs.

“Thank you. I’ll drive him to school in the morning, but I’ll be back by the time you leave, is that alright?”

“Of course,” he smiles warmly. “You two look a lot alike.”

“We get that a lot,” you chuckle. “It’s the eyes and nose shape, I think. We got those from our mother.”

“People say I look like my sister too, but I don’t really see it, if I’m being honest,” he chuckles lightly.

“Yeah? Why?”

“No idea,” he shakes his head laughing. “I just don’t see it, but I couldn’t tell you really.”

Sipping on your tea you stay in the kitchen with Harry, the light conversation about his sister and eventually his mother eases the stress that has been gripping on your chest from the encounter you had with your parents earlier. You’re not sure if he tried to talk you through it because he saw how much you needed the distraction or if it’s just how he is, but either way, he really helped you to relax.

Cleaning after yourself the two of you head to bed, saying good night to each other before disappearing in your rooms.

“This place is like… really huge,” Trevor sighs in awe when the two of you are eating breakfast together the next morning.

“I told you, it’s a mansion,” you chuckle, digging into your oatmeal. “I’ll show you around next time you’re here.”

“T’was nice of Harry to let me stay,” he hums.

“Mhm, he is a cool boss,” you smile at him.

“And kinda handsome…” Glancing at Trevor you see the sly smirk on his lips and you give him a stern look.

“Stop right there, alright? No funny thoughts!”

“Funny thoughts?” he laughs leaning back in his seat. “I just made a statement that he is a nice looking man, that’s it. Do you not agree?”

“I’m not commenting on the topic,” you diplomatically answer.

“On what topic?” Harry appears from the stairs, making you both turn his way. “Good morning,” he smiles warmly.

“Morning!” Trevor nods his way before he turns back to you, still smirking. You narrow your eyes at him before answering Harry.

“The topic doesn’t matter. Morning, Harry!”

He pours himself some coffee that you brew earlier before joining the two of you at the dining table. He strikes up a conversation with Trevor, asking him about school and his future plans once he graduates and luckily, Trevor is on his best behavior despite the comment he made earlier, he is not trying to put you into an uncomfortable situation. He knows better, because if he upsets you now, he will not be returning to the mansion, that’s for sure.

“Alright, get your stuff, we are leaving in five,” you tell him when both of you are done eating. Nodding he disappears upstairs as you take care of the dishes quickly.

“Is he staying tonight as well?” Harry asks, following you into the kitchen.

“Oh, no. I’m sure mom wants to talk to him after last night, so it’s better if he goes home.”

“Hope things will get easier for him,” he smiles and you return it, thankful that he let him stay here when he really needed a place for himself.

“Thanks for everything, Harry” Trevor smiles at him when he arrives with his backpack.

“Of course, come back soon, but under more peaceful conditions,” he chuckles nodding in his way.

“I’ll be back soon!” you call out before walking out of the house with your brother.

“So how long have you been crushing on your boss?” Trevor asks in the car and your eyes widen as you try to keep the car straight in the lane.

“Excuse you?”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s kinda obvious, you swoon at everything the man says, haven’t seen you this soft since your high school graduation,” he chuckles, finding your reaction quite entertaining, but you’re not enjoying the situation that much.

“I do not have a crush on Harry,” you shake your head laughing, but you can’t ignore the knot in your stomach at your own words. Was this that big of a lie?

“That’s too bad because I think he has a thing for you too,” he shrugs, carelessly staring out the window, like it’s that casual to discuss you and your boss having possible feelings for each other.

“When did you become an expert on these stuff?” you huff, glancing at him shortly before turning back to face the road.

“I’m not an expert, but I’m not blind either. And I saw the way he looked at you.”

“What way?” you scoff.

“Like he is thankful you are walking this Earth.”

“Did you take this from a rom-com on Netflix?” you tease him, but he just shrugs. “Of course he is thankful, I’m helping him with his daughter. It’s not easy being a single parent and I’m helping him immensely. But there’s nothing else behind that.”

“Sure, good luck convincing yourself,” he sighs when you park the car down at his school. “Thanks for the ride and the night too. I’ll call you later.”

Leaning over the console he gives you a quick hug before hopping out of the car and walking towards the main building.

Arriving back home you find Izzy sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal on her lap, watching her favorite morning cartoon, but no sign of Harry and for a moment you get scared you got back too late, but then you realize he wouldn’t leave Izzy home alone.

“Hey Sunshine, did you sleep well?” you ask, caressing her rosy cheek as you join her on the couch.

“Mhm, what are we doing today?” she asks, showing a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“You have French class today with Lyon and in the afternoon I thought we could learn about otters. You seemed to like them a lot at the zoo.”

“Yes! They are so cute!” she cheers happily just when you hear footsteps coming from the stairs. Turning around you spot Harry walking towards the living room, but your lips part immediately when you see that he is putting on another shirt, his naked chest on display since he hasn’t buttoned it fully. What you saw not long ago from your balcony is now so much closer, the swallows peeking out from under the shirt and you see the little cross pendant hanging between his pecs, something you’ve only seen if he pulled it out of his shirts which didn’t happen that often.

Harry stops in his tracks when he sees you on the couch with Izzy and a blush paints his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were back,” he breathes out, his fingers working fast on the buttons to get himself presentable again though you wish he would just get rid of the whole thing… “Izzy spilled some juice on me so I had to change quickly,” he explains, finishing with the buttons and he quickly fixes it so he looks just as spotless as always.

“You poured too much into my cup!” Izzy defends herself furrowing her eyebrows at her dad.

“Of course it was my fault, who else’s would have it been?” Harry huffs as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Y/N, I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know it’s pretty sudden and on a very short notice but could you maybe look after Izzy tonight? Niall called me and begged to meet up with him for a few drinks. I would call Ruth, but she is out of town this week.”

“Oh sure! No problem,” you smile at him.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to do? Don’t feel pressured to say yes, I should have asked in advance, it’s just—“ “Harry, it’s fine. I’m okay looking after her tonight,” you assure him before he talks himself down from letting you do it. “Go have fun, you barely get out of the house without Izzy.” If you’re being honest the only place he goes to without his daughter is work and it’s a little saddening, he deserves some time out from his daddy duties.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you with gratitude. “I won’t be out too long, I promise.”

“No worries, have fun with Niall,” you wave in dismiss.

“Thanks. Have a great day. Be good, baby. I’ll see you in the afternoon.” Harry kisses Izzy’s forehead before grabbing his suit jacket, wallet, keys and phone and heads out to start his day.

“Alright, daddy is off to work and we also have a day ahead of us. Come on, let’s get started,” you smile at Izzy who nods in agreement.

Harry swears he didn’t come home earlier than his usual because he feels bad for asking you to cover the evening, but you know that’s a blatant lie. He is home by three and frees you for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you with about two extra hours. He informs you that he would be leaving around seven, so dinner time will still be his duty, but you’ll have to put Izzy to bed at her usual time, which works perfectly for you.

A little before seven Harry disappears to take a quick shower and get changed before heading out, while you sit out in the living room with Izzy, reading her from a book she chose after dinner.

When Harry returns, he is dressed more casually than he usually does for work, wearing a pair of beige slacks and a black shirt tucked into it, the first three buttons left undone, showing just a hint of his tattooed chest for the viewers.

“Okay, I just called a car, it’ll be here any minute. Please call me if anything happens, I could come home anytime.”

“Harry, I take care of her all day, I’m sure we’ll be fine for one evening as well,” you chuckle, trying to ease his nervousness about leaving his daughter home at a time he is not used to.

“Right,” he lets out a soft chuckle. “Thank you again. And Izzy, be good. Y/N will put you to bed tonight, but I’ll be here in the morning, okay?”

“Okay!” she sings, completely fine with the new arrangement.

“Alright, see you soon, good night!” he calls out on his way out of the house.

Sitting at the rooftop bar, Harry and Niall take up a small table for two near the railing so they have a nice view of the city below them. The waitress brings their order, tequila on the rocks for Harry and a good pint for Niall, and the latter man can’t ignore the fact how pretty she is in her tight white shirt and short black skirt, smiling coyly at the men as she asks if they want anything else.

“We’re good for now, Darling. Thank yeh,” Niall smirks and even winks at the woman, who is seemingly enjoying the attention from him, but deep down she would be happier if it was Harry who was trying to flirt with him. However he is busy on his phone, typing out an email even at this ungodly hour, which pisses his friend off.

“Would you stop being a workaholic prick and maybe glance at the woman that wants to fuck the shit out of you?” Niall snaps at him, grabbing his attention, but he just rolls his eyes.

“That would require my interest as well, which is not there.”

“That’s fucking sad. Really, mate. How long are you going to act like a crybaby? I’m getting tired of your long face. I get it, shit happened, but you eventually have to move on.”

Harry tries to ignore his words, eyes glued to the screen of his phone hoping his friend would just drop it, but that’s not what Niall is like. So instead of leaving him to be, he grabs his phone, snaps it right out of his hands and then shoves it into his pocket.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” he growls at his friend who just gives him a hard look.

“Harry, I’m worried about you. You do nothing, just work and be with Izzy.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t spend time with my daughter?” he asks twisting his words.

“You know that’s not what I mean. Spend as much time with her as possible, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“I’m taking care of myself. I sleep and eat well and I workout regularly. I don’t see what else I might need.” “Fuck. You need to fuck,” he points out, making Harry roll his eyes again.

“You know, sometimes I question why we are even friends…” Harry grumbles under his breath as he takes a sip from his drink, feeling like he definitely needs the alcohol if Niall is gonna pick on him all night.

“Because I’m the one who pushes you out of your pit of sorrow, m’friend. And right now I feel like I need to step in, because you are turning into a bitter old man.”

“I’m not bitter,” Harry narrows his eyes at him.

“And neither are you old, so why are you acting like you are?”

“Look, I know that you are a fan of the bachelor life, going to parties, sleeping around with any woman you can get, but that’s just not for me, it never was, not even a long time ago.”

“I’m not trying to get you to act like a frat boy, Har. I know you are too soft for that, but I think it might be time for you to, I don’t know, open up a bit.”

“Open up?”

“Yeah! Go out, meet new people, preferably women,” he adds with a knowing look. “It’s been more than three years, Harry. You can’t stay at home and mope around forever.”

“I really don’t think we should be having this conversation right now.”

“If not now, then when? I tried to talk to you about it many times, but you always just dodged it, so I gave you more time to adjust to the situation, but I think we are over that,” Niall sighs, leaning onto the table. “We both know time flies by. Soon Izzy will go to school, she’ll have her own little life and before you could even blink twice, she is gonna be a teenager, barely talking to you, only caring about some boyband, her friends and shows. The time will come when you’ll have to step back a little and I don’t want you to stay alone.”

“First of all, Izzy is 4 and she won’t be allowed to even think about being independent until she is twenty,” Harry starts off as Niall rolls his eyes at him.

“Yeah, sure. You’ll have an amazing time when she becomes a teenager.”

“Don’t even talk about her being a teenager.”

“It’s going to happen!” Niall snaps and Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Okay, let’s just calm down.” He takes a deep breath even though he is the only one getting mad right now. Harry might feel uncomfortable, but he is not one to lose his temper that easily. Niall on the other hand is known to be a little too passionate at times.

“Alright. Please know that I’m just trying to be a good friend. What happened is tragic and I can’t even imagine what you went through, though I was here all along so I have a slight guess. I’m happy that you are doing vehemently better now, it’s amazing, but I know that you’ll be miserable if you stay single forever.”

“I’m not gonna start dating, Niall. It’s just… too soon. I can’t get into a relationship now.” Harry shakes his head, gulping from his drink again, the alcohol burns down his throat as he grimaces shortly.

“I get it that you don’t want a relationship, but dating might not be that bad. I’m pretty sure there are some hot single moms you know who would love to go out with you for dinner or some shit.”

“I’m not interested in any of them,” he shrugs.

“Then what about Y/N?” Harry’s eyes snap up at his friend, flexing his jaw out of instinct.

“What about her?”

“She is pretty, nice and funny, completely your type. Why don’t you try it with her?”

“She works for me,” Harry replies right away.

“No one fucking cares,” Niall scoffs. “And because you didn’t say that you don’t like her, I assume you are into her.”

Harry lets out a heavy sighs shaking his head. You’ve not been the only one who’s been noticing the other. Ever since he has caught you watching him while doing his morning yoga, he couldn’t shake the thought of you and he took a special notice about a lot of things about you. Like the way you scrunch your nose every time you smile when Izzy says a word wrong, or the way you like to put up your hair into a ponytail when you’re playing with her in the backyard and there’s always a tiny strand that hangs lose at the back of your neck because it’s too short to reach up to the ponytail, but his favorite thing is how your voice is a little hoarse in the morning when you come down for the first time from upstairs. The thought that he is always the first person you talk to in the morning just brings this pleasant feeling into the pit of his stomach, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

He can’t deny that he finds you beautiful either, how could he not? You’re just a wonderful person inside and out and he is thankful his daughter is in such good hands when he is away at work. But he hasn’t dared to think further than this, his mind just doesn’t let him, however Niall’s words are now poking at the sleeping giant.

“Stop assuming things,” Harry mumbles, looking away from his friend, feeling like he is being grilled.

“Stop denying things,” Niall retorts, earning a huff from Harry. “Okay, don’t ask her out just yet, but try to get closer to her. Become friends, try to open up and get to know her a little more!”

“I don’t want to get closer to her!” he replies, but he can easily point out how big of a lie that is, even though he is trying his best to make himself believe that it’s not.

“So you don’t have a crush on her?” Niall raises his eyebrows at him.

“Where are we, in middle school? I’m 31, I don’t have crushes,” Harry scoffs.

“Okay so then you don’t mind it if I ask her out?”

“You are not asking her out, Niall,” he sternly replies, reaching for his drink once again, that’s nearing its end very closely. He needs to order another one if Niall decides to be an asshole all night.

“Why not? He seemed to like me when we met, I think we both would have a nice evening, might even take her home—“

“Shut up, Niall. You are not going out with her!”

“Really? What’s stopping me?” he smirks, knowing well what he is doing and where this is heading. Harry opens his mouth, but then no words come out, because he realizes what he wanted to say should not be said out loud.

Because I like her, a tiny voice tells him in his mind. Niall’s smirk grows even bigger, because even though Harry didn’t answer, his face tells it all, confirming what he has been trying to force out of him all evening.

“Yeah, just as I thought,” he laughs, taking a few gulps from his beer. “I’m not telling you to fuck her brains out immediately, but it might be nice if you just got to know her a bit more. And if things seem to take, like… a turn, if you know what I mean, don’t chicken out, just go with it.”

“You know, Niall, you should worry about your own love life the way you worry about mine.”

“There’s nothing to worry about!” He beams, clearly without a worry. “I’m too good of a catch to be tied down, so I’m enjoying life to the fullest right now.”

“Aren’t you tired of waking up next to a different woman every morning?” Harry sighs, feeling exhausted just to think about the way his friend lives.

“Don’t judge for something you never tried. I like it, it fulfills all my needs, why should I change?”

“Because you worry about me ending up alone when it’s most likely gonna be you.” Harry gives him a look, but it doesn’t seem to affect him. He shrugs it off easily.

“Difference is that I like being alone, but you don’t. You are wired to have a partner in the long run while I’m perfectly fine with my adventures. So do me a favor, and be less of a little hermit. You’ll thank me later.”

Niall’s words stick to Harry’s head more than he would have liked it. The two friends stay at the bar until about midnight and while Harry leaves to go straight home, Niall heads to another direction with the pretty waitress on his arm, who served their drinks relentlessly all night.

Arriving back home Harry tips the driver generously before heading inside, seeing that you’re still up, the lights in the living room and the TV illuminating the area. Walking further inside he spots you cozied up on the couch, a thick blanket thrown over yourself as you watch some kind of detective documentary, chewing on your bottom lip in focus. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight of you, taking just a split second to savor the moment and wrap it up in his mind.

“Hey, why are you still up?” he questions walking inside. Your eyes tear away from the screen, blinking up at him as you smile slightly, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Rounding the couch Harry joins you, sitting down as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Got caught up a little,” you chuckle, nodding your head towards the TV. “Did you have a good time?”

“As much as it’s possible to have a good time with Niall around,” he chuckles, making you smile.

“He is not that bad, is he?”

“He can be a little asshole sometimes,” he admits. “But it was fine, we had a nice… talk.”

“I’m glad,” you smile sheepishly, before turning back to the TV.

Harry’s eyes snap to the screen as well, but he is not following the case at all, his mind is busy thinking about everything Niall has told him.

It really has been three long and torturous years without his beloved wife and just as Niall said, the beginning of this time was almost lethal. He never thought there would be a day when he would wake up and not feel like curling up into a ball and just cry all day. Those times are now gone, because with a lot of help from his friends, family and even a therapist, he was able to find his purpose in life again: his daughter.

Harry knows that his friend is right, he can’t live his life on his own, that’s just not how he is built, but it’s not as easy as it seems. Especially with the haunting thoughts he has been harboring, kept away from everyone in his life, because he has always been too afraid to say them out loud. That would make them become even realer than they already feel to him.

Sitting on the couch next to Harry you glance at him for a second and can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Everything alright?” you softly ask. His green eyes flicker over to you, as if he is debating whether he should talk or not.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you nod.

“But it’s kind of personal.”

“Okay, then ask and I’ll decide if I want to answer or not,” you chuckle softly, pushing yourself up a little so you can focus on him better.

“After things ended with your… ex, when you found out that he was cheating on you… How long did it take you to get back out to the field, if you know what I mean.”

His question surprises you, it really is a personal matter and you’re not sure why he felt the need to ask you about it especially now, but you have a guess why it’s relatable for him. You lost someone you loved and though the situation is a very different nature, somehow it’s still similar in a way.

“Well, I told you earlier that it was the kind of situation where I blamed myself for what he did,” you start off and Harry nods, patiently and curiously listening to what you are saying. “I was convinced that he cheated because I wasn’t enough, because I didn’t give him everything he wanted and that it was all my fault. It took me weeks to see clearly and realize that even if I wasn’t giving him everything, it wouldn’t have given him the right to cheat on me. Sometimes it’s really hard to lift the blame off yourself, especially when you were the one putting it there.”

Harry’s lips part at your words and because he is not speaking, you’re not sure if it’s the good or bad kind. You really wish you could just read his honest thoughts, but it seems like he is keeping them to himself so you continue.

“I think it took me a good, like… four months to actually move on. I went on a date for the first time about six months after Keith and I broke up. I’m not saying I’m over the fact that I was cheated on, but it’s not stopping me anymore to live my life. I had to accept that just because of what happened, I still deserve happiness and to be loved.”

Love is a beautiful thing, but it’s very powerful and you learned it the hard way. To love and be loved is essential, love makes life so much better and more special, but it can also scar you terribly and leave you dried out and in pain. You have to learn to accept the love you get and remember it whenever you are not getting enough. It’s a rollercoaster, but the highs make the whole ride worth it.

Harry stays silent as you turn your attention back at the TV, seeing that he is busy chewing on your words. Whatever his reason was to ask you, he is clearly processing the answer he got, making his own conclusions and you wouldn’t want to bother him while he does that.

The documentary soon ends and you realize how late it really is. Saturday is your day off, but you don’t want to sleep through the whole thing, you have a few errands to run. So switching the TV off you fold the blanket and drop it into the basket next to the couch. Harry snaps out of his thoughts when you stand up from the couch, realizing that you’ve shut the TV off already.

“I’m going to bed, you should too,” you smile at him softly as he nods, standing up as well.

You’re already on the stairs when Harry calls out after you. Turning around you keep one foot on the next step, glancing over at him, still standing by the couch.

“I’m… I’m really sorry he couldn’t appreciate you.”

You smile at him warmly, because it says so much about him as a person. Apologizing for something he had absolutely no control over, something someone else did, someone he doesn’t even know. Yet he still felt the need to say sorry.

“It’s alright. I’ll find the person who’ll give me the love I deserve,” you tell him before turning back around and walking away.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 20 - The Compass [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Coming home can be unpleasant.

After getting a phone call from the FBI, you were now sure of one thing:

Karma really needed another hobby other than messing with you, and this break up was definitely not going the way it was supposed to go.

For starters, people who broke up with each other were not supposed to see each other this much. You had different lives, different social circles, different jobs and somehow universe kept pushing you two in each other’s space.

To make things worse, the last time you talked to Garcia she had offhandedly mentioned Luke dragging Spencer to a nightclub much to his displeasure and introducing him to a friend of his. Naturally, your mind was full of images of Spencer in a happy relationship, eventually moving to a house in the suburbs with her and having kids and all that.  

“I don’t know what Luke is thinking,” Garcia said, “But I’m two seconds away from pulling him aside and giving him a piece of my mind. Reid is obviously still not over you, ambushing him to introduce him to a girl won’t change that.”

Needless to say, you had been in a terrible mood for the last couple of days.

“What’s taking her so long?” you checked your wristwatch and Nolan looked at you over his newspaper.

“Oh she’s talking to the board of the charity auction,” he said, “There are some last minute changes, apparently.”

You heaved a sigh and checked the time again, “I can’t stay for long,” you murmured and Nolan raised his brows.

“Oh? In a hurry?”

“Me and Spencer and…well, some of his team will go by the woods,” you said, “They found some bones near dad’s cabin close to the weekend house and they think it might help me remember where the rest is buried.”

He made a face, “That’s disturbing.”

“Nah, I thought going on a dead body remains hunt with my ex in the woods near one of my childhood trauma places would be romantic,” you deadpanned, “You don’t do that with your exes?”

“Not really?”

“Oh man you’re missing out.”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “I take it things haven’t improved on the heartbreak front?”

“I wouldn’t know, apparently his friend is setting him up with someone.”

“Mm, let me guess,” he mused, “Your plan is to do nothing about it?”

“No, I’m actually following your example,” you smiled at him sweetly, “I’ll just wait for decades and hope the girl turns out to be a serial killer.”

He tilted his head. “Touché.”

“Aw thank you,” you pushed at the food in your plate, “No seriously, what can I do? I can’t just go to him and tell him not to date other people. We broke up— I broke up with him.”

“You could explain the reason behind that.”

“I can’t do that.”

He clicked his tongue, “Well then, I suggest you get ready just in case he happens to ask for your help planning his wedding.”

“You’ve been absolutely no help at all Nolan, I appreciate that.”

“I’m offering you my wisdom and you’re not taking it,” he held up his hands, gesturing surrender, “I also suggested to get his superiors to fix a meeting with him to talk to him about certain boundaries and mistakes but…”

“Get his superiors— I’m sorry, what?”

“I play poker with the head of the department he works under.”

“Of course you do.” You sipped your coffee, “When did you suggest that exactly?”

“Oh not to you, to your mother,” he nodded to himself as he saw the look on your face, “Yeah. But then I saw how it could not only damage some professional relationships, but also it’s better to let young people solve their own problems, no matter how easy it is to solve them with an outsider’s influence.”

You pulled your brows together.

“Try again.”

“I asked your mother and she said no.”

“Oh thank God.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yeah no, don’t do that. We’re not in high school, you know?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiled slightly at the scandalized look on your face.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand in the air, “It’s strange that mom said no though. She doesn’t really like him nowadays, and she keeps listing all his….disadvantages whenever I talk about him.”

“Disadvantages?”

“Mm hm. The other day she said it was maybe for the best in the long run, because he’s an FBI agent so considering his paychecks, we would eventually fight about our future children’s tuition fees.”

Nolan thought for a moment, “She does have a point, considering what FBI pays their agents…”

You blinked a couple of times, “Right,” you said, “That’s exactly why I broke up with him. Because who would be paying for our hypothetical future children’s future tuition fees, yeah. Deal breaker, that one.”

“It could be a contributing factor though—“ he started but you heard your mother’s heels approaching and soon enough she walked into the living room and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Darling, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she told you before pecking Nolan on the lips, making him smile, “This whole charity auction, honestly…”

“Do I have to come to that thing?” you looked between them, your brows pulled together in an attempt to make them take pity on you but your mother tilted her head.

“Yes you do.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “You know, I’m going through a break up—“

“You’ve been going through a break up for more than a month now, you’re not allowed to use that as an excuse.”

“My heart is broken!”

“Good, focus on charity then.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Nolan, “What’s the real reason she’s dragging me to this?”

“Oh no, I’m not getting caught in this crossfire.”

“Mom?”

She cleared her throat and sipped her coffee, “The other day when I visited Nolan at work, he happened to introduce me to this very handsome Chief Marketing Officer who’s handling—“

“Oh no.”

“Keep in mind that we pay him more than what FBI pays his agents.” Nolan stated, laughing up his sleeve as if he found it hilarious and you scrunched up your nose.

“Nolan, I know you were born in the eighteenth century but that’s actually not a problem we have these days.”

“He’s single,” your mother said as if she wasn’t even listening and you threw your head back, letting out a whine, “He loves dogs and squash—“

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not sitting at our table,” your mother said, “I fixed another surprise for you at our table, and I figured you’d want to keep your options open.”

“Besides, if your ex boyfriend is moving on…” Nolan trailed off and your mother raised her brows.

“Oh, Spencer has a girlfriend now?”

“No!” you said way too loudly and then cleared your throat, “I mean—I don’t care. But I don’t think so, I would’ve heard it.”

“See? More reason for you to meet other people.”

You pouted, “I hate this so much. I can’t believe I’m being dragged into this nonsense only because you guys are making me, this is seriously bullshit…”

“Y/N, do you want some cookies?” Nolan interrupted your grumbling, “One of my assistants brought them from France the other day.”

You scoffed, “How old do you think I—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders, “Actually yeah, I’d love some cookies right now.”

                                                  ***

Unfortunately, when you left your mother’s house you had overestimated the traffic and how long it would take you to get there so by the time you had pulled over by the road leading into the woods, you could only see one FBI car. You didn’t have to wonder who was in it when your eyes caught the sight of Spencer leaning against it and your heart skipped a beat.

“Fuck…” you murmured to yourself and considered for a short second to drive away until others got there, but it was too late. Spencer turned his head, saw your car and stopped dead on his tracks so you heaved a sigh and pushed open the door to step outside. You looked around before you pulled yourself up to sit on the hood before you fished your cigarette pack out of your purse.

“You’re early.” Spencer said and you raised your glances to look at him for a second before lighting your cigarette.

“So are you,” you put the lighter back into your purse, “Came by yourself?”

“Luke is talking with the police.”

“Lovely,” you exhaled the smoke and he crossed his arms, looking up at the sky for a moment before stealing a look at you.

You had no idea what to say to him. After that one day of truce, it was like you were back to being enemies and ignoring each other. The fact that he might have been ready to date another person made you feel even worse if it was possible, especially after that phone call between you. He had said that he was a mess just like you were, he had said you had taken a part of him when you left him, and—

You didn���t even know what you hoped for. You knew it wouldn’t change anything, and yet the thought of him being with someone else was more than enough to make you feel like you were falling off a cliff.

Maybe it was just the truce talking. Maybe he didn’t mean any of that.

Your phone vibrating in your purse made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked at the caller I.D., then frowned and answered.

“Hey, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“On a Sunday?” Lincoln’s voice reached you, “Who’s the workaholic now?”

“Still you Linc,” you said and Spencer’s head shot up, “What’s up?”

“I just called to let you know that they just moved me to your table.”

You pulled your brows, “I’m sorry, what?”

“At the charity auction. My table was 3, they just e-mailed me to say I’ve been moved to 1.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re the surprise?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Somebody needs to stop my mother.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I…That’s great, we’ll sit together then. If you like sulking the whole night, we’ll be just fine.”

“Come on, it could be fun.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, at least you’re not alone.”

“I’ll drink throughout that night, you sure you can keep up?”

“Do you even know who you’re talking to, you amateur?”

“Oh it’s on.” You smiled slightly and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you at our table then. With drinks.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said before you hung up, and put the phone back into your purse before you felt Spencer’s burning gaze on you, so you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked and he scoffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Professor.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his gaze fixed on the woods and you tilted your head.

“Fine.”

He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth, as if trying to decide whether to say anything or not before you could ask again, Luke approached you two, another car pulling over by your car.

“Hey there.” You greeted Luke as you jumped off the hood and he tilted his head.

“Why are you shorter?”

You motioned at your sneakers, “I figured since we’re going into the woods, heels would be a bad idea.”

“Is this the first time I’m seeing you without heels?”

“Probably.”

“Should we get going?”

JJ stole a look at Spencer and you, then turned to Luke, “Actually, do you mind coming with me to the car for a moment? There’s this file I want to get your opinion on.” She nodded at you, “You guys go ahead if you want.”

You pulled your brows together for a second, trying to understand what was happening but then decided you wouldn’t question it and stepped into the woods, a shiver running down your spine.

It looked way too familiar.

You gritted your teeth and started walking, and it didn’t take long for Spencer to catch up with you.

“So I never got to ask you,” you managed to say after almost ten minutes of complete silence, “That…that blood vial in that petal bowl, whose blood was it?”

“Anthony’s.”

“Right,” you murmured as you kept walking, “Was it….was it something my dad did back then?”

“No.” Spencer said curtly and you looked over your shoulder.

“So then what does it—“

“Are you dating other people?” the words left his lips in a hurry as if he didn’t know how to stop them and you stopped dead on your tracks.

“I beg your pardon?”

He opened his mouth for a moment like he was trying to find the right words but then he closed it and shrugged his shoulders.

“Never mind,” he murmured, walking past you and you gawked after him for a while before you rushed after him.

“No, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

Maybe your whole theory about Spencer being a genius therefore not being able to be jealous wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m not— is this about Lincoln?” you held up the phone in your hand before you sped up to catch up with his long strides, “There’s this stupid charity auction bullshit and we’re both attending it, that’s it.”

“Alright,” he murmured, still walking and you let out a breath.

“Spencer!”

“What?” he turned around to look at you, that fire burning in his eyes again, “I said never mind, okay?”

“I’m not dating Lincoln!” you exclaimed “And I— even if I were, at least he’s not someone I met at a nightclub my friends forced me to go, unlike some of us.”

“What does that-” he started but it hit him in a second, “Garcia told you.”

“It came up.”

He raised his brows, “Yeah? How?”

“It just did.” You managed to say even if your cheeks were burning, “So what? You’re going to stand there and ask me that when you’re moving on already?”

“I’m not moving on!” he said as if you had just insulted him, “Besides, you broke up with me remember?”

“Yeah and you wasted no time Spencer, congratulations.” You murmured as you walked past him but as soon as your eyes caught the sight of the huge cabin by the small hill, your breath got caught in your throat and you took a step back, the memory flashing through your mind so fast that the headache hit you out of nowhere.

Your father tugged you by your hand through the woods as you yawned, rubbing at your eyes.

“Are you sleepy honey?”

You nodded, looking up at him, 

“Daddy I thought we were going to come here tomorrow, with mom and Mina.” you said as you hugged the huge teddy bear you had brought with you when your father had woken you up and told you that you would be taking a small trip to the cabin.

“We are,” he said, “We will go back home after our hunt is done here.”

“Yeah but mom says Mina and I can’t be outside the cabin at night,” you murmured, “The lake is too close, remember? We might fall in, she says.”

“She’s right, no leaving the cabin by yourself when it’s dark outside,” he said, “Or else no chocolate for a week, you know the rules.”

“Okay, okay…” you yawned again, and your father knelt down so that you could look him in the eye.

“Petal honey, I want you to pay attention,” he said, “Look around. Let’s say you’re in the woods by yourself and you’re hunting. You know how we hunt, right?”

You took a deep breath, “Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.”

“Very good,” he said, “When you’re hunting in the woods, what’s the first thing you do?”

“Look up at the sky,” you said, “That’s how I know where I am.”

“Good start. How about if your prey is running to get away from you? How do you chase them?”

“People aren’t calm when they’re being hunted,” you repeated what he had told you, “They make noises. I follow that, and wait for them to tire themselves out.”

He nodded, then you both climbed the stairs to the front door of the cabin.

“And what’s the one thing you remember?”

“To stay calm and patient.”

He smiled at you and opened the door to the cabin so that you could see the bloodied person tied to a chair, screaming through the gag.

“Good,” he said, “Let’s go over what we do with the prey, shall we?”

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice cut through the memory, almost grabbing you and pulling you back to the reality and it was only when you realized you weren’t standing anymore, instead you were on the ground on your knees, gasping for breath.

“I can’t—“ you choked out, pressing a hand over your chest “I—I can’t breathe—“

“Yes you can,” he helped you sit and lean your back to the tree trunk, “You just need to focus on me, alright? Can you breathe with me?”

You sniffled, trying to match your breathing with his and he nodded,

“There you go,” he said with a smile, “You’re doing great. Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded your head, still desperate to cling to anything that would protect you from that memory and he entwined his fingers with you.

“Keep your focus on me,” he said as he wiped the teardrop off your cheek with his free hand,  awakening a fire right beneath your cheekbone, “Here’s what we’re going to do, you will inhale when I squeeze your hand, exhale when I stop. Can we do that together?”

You inhaled when you felt his grip tightening around your hand, then exhaled when it became loose again.

“Y/N?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Hm?”

“Why are public proposals so bad?”

A teary laugh escaped from your lips, “Professor…”

“No, I want you to tell me,” he said as you inhaled again when he squeezed your hand, “Why are they so bad?”

“Because they—“ you exhaled, “They’re not private.”

“They could be romantic.”

“But they’re not,” you protested, “They’re not romantic. They’re pretentious.”

“Pretentious?” he squeezed your hand once more and you took another breath.

“If you need an audience for something like that, you’re pretentious yeah.” You said as the nausea slowly retreated and he pushed your hair behind your ear before his knuckles brushed over your neck, it lasted only a moment but it was enough for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he offered you a small smile.

“Anytime.”

“Brings back the memories, huh?” you leaned your head back to the tree trunk and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “Yeah it really does.”

You pressed your lips together, “Spencer, why are you helping me?” you asked him, taking him by surprise, “With….all this. I thought you hated me.”

He swallowed thickly,

“I can’t hate you,” his voice was almost a murmur, “I wish I could. Trust me, I tried.”

“Guys?” you heard Luke’s voice and you turned your head to see them approaching, “What’re you—what happened?”

“We’ll meet you there in a second,” Spencer said, shooting JJ a look and she nodded.

“Okay,” she said, “Come on Luke.”

They walked past you to the cabin and you looked up at the sky for a couple of seconds before willing yourself to focus on him again.

“You remembered something,” he said and you nodded.

“A memory,” you managed to say, “I…Spencer, there are dead bodies in there.”

“I know, we found bones in the backyard—“

“No,” you cut him off, “You don’t understand. There are dead bodies in the cabin.”

He pulled his brows together and you pulled your hand out of his before standing up on shaky legs, still holding onto the tree for support.

“Y/N, we can wait-” he said but you shook your head and made your way to the cabin until you reached the stairs. Every cell in your body was screaming at you to run away, but you managed to force yourself to climb the stone stairs and stopped for a moment at the door as Spencer stepped to stand next to you. Everything looked exactly the same as you had left them all those years ago right before your father was arrested.

A shudder went down your spine, the same as the one you had gotten when you woke up in your apartment after being drugged. Something in here was way too dangerous for you and it wouldn’t rest until you were at its mercy so you had to get away before it could dig its claws under your skin, but-

You had to do this. You could do this.

You had been through much worse than this before.

You had survived your father, you had survived his copycats, you had survived everything thrown your way so far, you could survive this as well.

You rolled your shoulders back and stepped into the huge living room, the memory pushing at your mind but you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus.

“We can leave if you want,” Spencer murmured and you dug your fingernails into your palms hard enough to hurt.

There was a reason why police couldn’t find anything in this goddamn place when they first checked. You had repressed the memory just like you had repressed the rest, and now that you were here…

The memories about the cabin were swirling in your head, each more terrifying than other.

“Luke.”

Luke turned his head, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind stepping aside for a moment?” you asked, “Actually, if no one could—if no one could stand on the rug that’d be ideal. Thanks.”

JJ shot you a look but nodded at the two other agents walking around the living room and you slowly approached the magnetic chess board by the coffee table, holding out your hand over the pieces for a second. Panic roared through you but you gritted your teeth and moved the pawn, then put the bishop where your father taught you to put it way back then.

“It’ll be like a treasure hunt, but you need to keep it a secret,” he had told you, “Pinky swear?”

You turned the queen in hand your for a moment, then put it right next to the bishop and the small basement trapdoor which was impossible to see even if someone was looking for it clicked under the rug. Spencer froze for a moment before he and Luke pulled the rug off the floor and pulled open the hatch but the smell coming from downstairs made you cover your mouth.

“Stay here,” Luke told the agents as he went downstairs and Spencer followed him right before JJ did. You stalled there for a moment, trying to repress the fear pinning you to your spot before you stepped closer to the stairs leading down to the secret basement.

“Miss—“ the agent said but you ignored him and made your way down. JJ and Spencer already had their flashlights on as Luke held his gun, ready to pull the trigger at any unexpected movement.

“You can’t be here.” Spencer told you but you weren’t even mood to snap back at him. You dragged your fingertips on the wall until you found the switch and turned the light on, the smell getting worse and worse.

There were three huge boxes by the wall, all tightly shut and you had a feeling—

No, not a feeling. What you had was a memory and you knew exactly what was in them.

Spencer turned to you, apparently ready to tell you to go upstairs again but as soon as his eyes caught something over your shoulder, he froze, his jaw clenching. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and faster as Luke stopped dead on his tracks.

“Y/N, go upstairs.” Spencer said, his tone way too controlled until you turned your head, “No wait, don’t look—“

But it was too late. The bloodied message on the wall made you gasp as you took a step back, unable to look away as that familiar dread filled you once more, the simple line causing goosebumps to rise on your skin;

Welcome home Petal.

                                 Chapter 21 

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [epilogue]

Warnings: sexual comments, pregnancy and children, marriage and weddings, just cuteness, mentions of IVF, mentions of parental issues, language, mentions of marital issues, mentions of fuckboy!Tommo

Word Count: 7,996

Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, for those that have stuck with me through all of this. It's been a journey and I'm so grateful for those that stayed for the whole thing. This series has been such an important part of my life and writing and I don't know how I'll function without it, but I'm grateful to have finished it and gotten it out there for others to enjoy. 💖

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                                          Welcome to Our Forever

                                               Thomas & Y/F/N 

                                                August 5, 2023 

White roses and eucalyptus line the wooden board announcing your wedding to the man of your dreams. Maybe not the best decision to have a summer wedding, but Harrison and Ivey had only wed some three months before, and you refused to take away her shine. As it was, when she sat beside you in her auburn colored dress to have her hair and makeup done, she was glowing, reminiscing on her big day with a brand new wedding band to go with her engagement/wedding ring, and a new ID showcasing the Ivey Eleanor Osterfield namesake. 

It wasn't necessarily the first time you four girls had been together since graduation, but the time that you spent together had dwindled since going out into the real world. Phoebe was making bank as an emergency room nurse at UW Emergency just off campus and she and Keaton had started living together in University District. Cole had moved Scarlett into his apartment once Keaton had moved out and she's been working as a financial analyst the past two years. He'd mentioned proposing to her, but hadn't officially done so yet. Ivey and Harrison were living in an apartment not far from you and Tom, Harrison working at the Seattle Art Museum, and not too far from him, Ivey was working as an editor in downtown Seattle. Still, after two years, the four of you were meeting up for date night often, you and Ivey mostly discussing wedding plans and crazy stories from your day, while the boys talked sports and alcohol. 

Since graduation, you and Tom had adopted a little gray pitbull from a local shelter, similar to Tessa, whom you named Rosir. With the help of your dad and the first few paychecks from your therapy office, you were able to purchase a car, a Subaru Crosstrek, which you and Tom used for weekend getaways and vacations. He'd even taken the time to revisit the same house he and the group stayed in in Oregon two springs ago with you. 

"You remember how you told me you wanted something like Ivey and Harrison that night shit went to hell?" He had asked you as you lay in bed one night, bare chests pressed together and Rosie laying just off to your side on the floor, squeaking her toy. You had hummed and nodded, leaning on his chest, 

"I regret that." 

"Don't say that. I just hope that it's been better than what they have. I've tried to make you happy." You smiled up at him and nodded, 

"I've never been happier than I am now." You had reassured him. He'd smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You'd discussed the shitshow that was the last two years of your relationship and how now, you couldn't see being with anyone else and you were convinced that your kids wouldn't have what you did, with a fractured family. Most of Tom's wounds had healed and he was focused on you, his career path, and your future. You were putting everything that had happened in the past behind you for the better now, focusing on your wedding, your marriage, the future. 

"You nervous?" Phoebe asks as an artist drags a brush with eyeshadow across her lids. You shrug as you're drawn from your haze, 

"Less nervous about marrying him than I am about graduation." You admit. She smiles, 

"I'm in love with you two. He's fucking lucky to have you." She murmurs, closing her eyes again. Ivey sighs, 

"I think you've beaten me out at being the most gorgeous on your wedding day." 

"No, don't say that. You were absolutely stunning." 

"Yeah, but are you seeing yourself? Tom is going to lose his shit." She explains. You smile, staring at yourself in the mirror as your makeup artist brushes blush along your cheeks. You giggle, 

"Okay, fine, I do look hot." You murmur. The three of you laugh along before Scarlett sighs and moves into the room, 

"Your dad and Cole are fighting again." You roll your eyes, 

"I almost just wish they hadn't tried to reconcile." You tell her. She smiles, 

"I mean... at least they're trying for you and all of our future kids." She reasons. You sigh, 

"Yeah, I guess." She sits behind the three of you, waiting until you're all finished before she helps you slide into the a-line dress you'd chosen, the girls gasping, 

"Oh Y/N, you look gorgeous." Ivey says. Phoebe and Scarlett agree and when Nikki enters the room, she gasps and covers her mouth, tears springing into her eyes, 

"Oh Y/N darling..." She mumbles. You smile, taking her hands when she approaches, 

"Do you think he'll like it?" You ask her about her son. She nods, sniffling softly, 

"Oh I think you could wear a burlap bag and he'd think you were exquisite, but this..." She nods, "he'll absolutely love you in this." She assures. You smile, 

"Great. You look amazing yourself." You tell her, looking her over in her maroon colored mother-in-law dress, 

"Well thank you sweetheart." She murmurs, a dusting of red coating her cheeks. She clears her throat, 

"I uhm, I have something for you." She says. It's only then that you notice the worn black box in her hands. You follow her to the small couch, sitting just beside her before she opens the box and reveals an old pearl necklace, "My grandmother got this as a gift and it's been passed down through our family. My mother wore it on her wedding day, I wore it on my wedding day. If you'd like... I want you to have it, wear it today and any day in the future as my first daughter-in-law." She tells you. You stare at it, mouth agape, 

"Oh gosh... Nikki... are you sure?" She nods immediately, 

"Of course. They're to be passed down. Hopefully you get a daughter to do the same to and the tradition can continue in our family." She tells you. You dab at your eyes with a tissue, 

"Thank you so much. It's beautiful." You tell her, moving forward to hug her. She hugs you back, kissing your cheek softly. She helps you latch it around your neck and by then, the girls are completely ready, 

"It's time Y/N/N." Ivey tells you with a cock of her head. You take a deep breath, 

"Gosh... really?" She shoots you a sympathetic smile and nods, 

"Fortunately." She tells you. You allow Nikki to fasten your veil into your hair and hand you your bouquet, the girls each collecting theirs before you stand before the full length mirror, staring at yourself. You take a deep breath, 

"The next time I step foot into this room, I will be Mrs. Tom Holland." You murmur more to yourself more than anyone. You watch Ivey smile in the mirror before you turn to them and nod, 

"Okay, I think I'm ready." You tell them. They each nod before leading you from the room, walking the short distance to where the boys are waiting at the end of the hall. Tom had more groomsmen than you had bridesmaids, but you didn't really care. Three of his seven groomsmen were walking alone, his brothers leading the pack down the aisle together. You honestly thought it was cute. Cole maneuvered his way over to you to kiss your cheek as your father appeared, 

"You look beautiful." He tells you. You smile, glancing up at your dad, 

"Thanks Cole." 

"You know mom would be more than proud of you." He reminds you. You nod, indicating to the veil, 

"And she's with me." When your dad had offered up the diamond encrusted lacy material your mother had bought for her own special day, you sobbed and agreed without a second thought. It was such a simple yet meaningful gesture, especially coming from your dad and you haven't thought twice about it since. Cole's eyes are glistening as he nods and Scarlett slips her hand in his bicep. 

Sam, Harry, and Paddy are the first down the aisle together, Tom's smile wide when he sees them. Ivey and Harrison are the first couple down the aisle with her as your matron of honor. Scarlett and Cole are next with her being your maid of honor, but you told Phoebe she was also your maid of honor. You weren't letting her feel left out in this situation. Gil was last down the aisle, helping your flower girl and ring bearer, both younger cousins of yours, down to their respective sides. You take a deep breath as you watch Tom stand at the head of the aisle, nervously swaying side to side, hands clasped in front of him. Your father flexes his bicep to imitate a squeeze, 

"Don't pass out on me. At least let me get you to him." He jokes. You smile, 

"Course not. But... this is the last time your little girl will be a Y/L/N." You tell him. He hums, glancing down at you when you look up, 

"You'll always be a Y/L/N, but I'm okay with you being a Holland. Tom is a good man." He reminds you. You smile and nod, 

"I agree." You murmur before "Canon In D" starts, giving you your cue. You take another deep breath before your father starts the walk, and all of your guests stand. Your dad reaches out and pats your hand as you walk out into the sunlight, your videographer (thank you dad) crouching beside your fiancè to capture his reaction which is quite honestly, the sweetest, most heart touching thing you've ever seen. He reaches up to brush his tears away, pivoting from foot to foot quicker as he takes a deep breath and blinks away the flood of tears that threaten to spill. You smile up at him, walking steadily with your father until you're standing just before him. He takes a deep breath as your minister asks who gives you away. Your father replies and hands you to Tom who helps you onto the small pedestal across from him. He sniffles softly, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. 

The ceremony progresses quickly and before you know it, you're announced as Mrs. Tom Holland. Tom smiles wide before he's wrapping an arm around your waist, the other curled up your back as he dips you, sealing your deal with a final kiss. You hold him to you, staring up into his eyes when he stands you straight before he pivots on his feet, smile as wide as it can get as you're announced as husband and wife. He gives your hand a squeeze and waves it in the air as your guests cheer and clap. 

You scurry off, holding onto Tom as he kisses you over and over again and continuously tells you how beautiful you look while your wedding party makes their way back down the aisle, your bridesmaids and his groomsmen all crowding around you with congratulations thrown your way. You flaunt the ring, and before the guests pour from your venue and towards the large brick building for the reception, Tom's family and your dad and Heidi follow your wedding party to the designated picture area. 

The pictures, you can tell, are going to be absolutely gorgeous. Harry and Nikki were both more than happy to be the wedding photographers, and absolutely denied being paid for the work. But you'd seen sneak peeks of some of the shots they'd snapped of your wedding party and you were in love. You'd finally sobbed, and Tom had let you when Nikki flashed you a photo of yours and Tom's foreheads pressed together, his hand brushing along your cheek, wedding band shown off blatantly. It hadn't hit you, how serious getting married was and now it was. 

You'd been the last to depart the area where your professional photos were taken, Nikki and Harry leaving you for a private moment to yourselves, the first in nearly two days since the boys stole him and the girls had stolen you. You'd stood in silence for a moment, admiring the scenery of the woods around you before he'd untucked a hand from his pocket and reached out for yours. You'd threaded your fingers together, 

"Has this been the wedding of your dreams so far?" He asks softly. You smile, nodding, 

"Since I was a little girl I dreamed of marrying a prince. Now I have him, and this," You gesture around you, "This is more than I could ever ask for. It's been beautiful so far and merging our families has been a dream." You tell him, taking a step closer to him. His smile widens, 

"Good." He murmurs. Standing on your toes, you lean in and kiss him. He hums, 

"Can't believe I married the girl of my dreams." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"It is all very surreal. All of the times we talked about marriage and kids and now we're here, doing it." 

"Hell yeah, I don't fuck around." He jokes. You roll your eyes, 

"But... now that we have a moment... what do you think of the dress? Your mom said I could wear a bag and you'd still think I look stunning." 

"Oh definitely, but... yes... this is absolutely gorgeous. You look stunning darling. More so than ever." He tells you, holding you at arms length to look you over. You twirl for him, the bodice of your dress flourishing around you and Tom smiles, 

"So beautiful." Dragging you back in, he leans in to kiss you, arms bound around your waist, your hands rested on his shoulders, smoothing down them. He hums, 

"We should sneak off and have married sex now." You giggle, tipping your head back which draws him in to trailing kisses down your throat, 

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try and do a quickie in this dress. You'll get lost in it." You tell him. He chuckles, 

"I believe you. You've got a lot of tulle goin on here." Nodding, your rest your hands atop his shoulders, staring up at him, 

"You've made me so happy the past four years... I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." You tell him. He smiles, 

"The feeling is so fucking mutual." He tells you, hands curled around your back. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs, 

"I promise to make you happy every day of my life. You mean the world to me." He tells you. You sway him softly, holding his waist, 

"I promise to do the same." 

"And after tonight, we'll go to Fiji and have a good time, just the two of us, and then we'll come back and try for a baby." He starts. You giggle again, 

"You have our whole lives planned out then huh?" You ask. He nods, 

"Definitely. Won't be long now before we're house hunting and moving a sweet little babe in." He murmurs in your ear. You sigh, 

"Is it bad that I kinda wanna stay in the apartment for a little while after having a baby?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, 

"No, not really. We... did talk about turning that spare into a nursery for her. We could go through with it." 

"And we're still stuck on them being a her huh? You do know I'll kill you if we have a boy first and you even think about being disappointed." You tell him. He hums, eyebrows knitting together again, 

"No, of course not, I would never. Any baby that comes from you is loved by me darling. You don't have to worry about it." He confirms. You nod, letting the silence permeate between you for a moment before you sigh, 

"We should probably be heading back. No one can do anything without us." You tell him. He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before sighing himself and nodding, 

"Yeah... let's go get a beer." Smiling, you hold your hand out for his again, lacing your fingers with his. He smiles as the prongs of your ring scrape against the pad of his finger and you give a tug of his hand to lead him up the trodden path towards your reception. Once on the concrete, leading up to the building, Tom squeezes your hand, glancing at the sign announcing you as husband and wife, 

"I cannot believe I am Mrs. Thomas Stanley Holland." You say. He chuckles again, 

"Sounds so fucking amazing." He tells you. You smile, 

"It does. I get to change my nameplate at work. Mrs. Y/N Holland. So exciting." He smiles before you round a corner and your wedding party is there, beers in hand and cheering directed your way. Tom waves his hand, cheeks flushing red and chuckles leaving his lips, 

"Stop, stop-" 

"You're a married man now Tommo!" Haz starts, 

"Yeah, what happened to the forever bachelor thing? Who are you and what have you done with our Tom?" Gil jokes. Tom rolls his eyes, 

"A beautiful girl crashed the party and roped my ass in." He admits. You smile and accept a beer from Cole, another handed to Tom, 

"Well congrats. You two make a beautiful couple. And... now you're my brother." He tells Tom, dragging him in for a hug. You smile, watching your husband and brother hug before Cole turns to you, 

"And you look beautiful Y/N/N. Mom is so so so fucking proud of you. I just know it." He tells you again. He leans in and kisses your cheek. Ivey pops up from inside the venue, 

"Alright guys. We're headed inside. Back into formation." You smile, looping your arm through Tom's. You'd chosen to have your DJ announce your wedding party, the group dancing in and once you make your way inside, it leads into your first dance. The other Holland boys lead, both sides of the families laughing at their antics. Ivey and Harrison follow, then Scarlett and Cole, and Keaton and Phoebe, finishing with Gil. Tom squeezes your hand in his arm as the DJ speaks again, 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Holland!" He cheers, the roaring from your guests loud as Tom escorts you in the door, twirling you and showing you off to your family. Your cheeks hurt from the smile you carry and Tom let's out an airy laugh as you hand your bouquet off to Ivey and he wraps you in his arms, holding your body close as the first notes of your first dance song play through the speakers, all eyes on you. But none of it matters. All that matters are the chocolate colored eyes you know every inch of. The ones you've come to love and the ones you get to stare into for the rest of your life. He's yours, and you're his, and this is what forever feels like. 

                                                          --- 

You giggle and cling to Tom as he carries you across the threshold of your suite. He gently sets you on the bed, watching you lay out beneath him, 

"So stunning." He murmurs. You roll your eyes and sit up a little to pull your veil off, 

"I see the cheesiness hasn't dissipated." 

"Well no. It'll only get worse from here. Instead of taking it as my girlfriend or fiancèe, you're taking it as my wife. Now you for sure aren't going anywhere. It's so much worse." He tells you. You giggle, kicking your heels off. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, 

"Is it bad if I say I'm glad that part is over?" He asks with a cock of his head. You shake your own head, 

"No... it's stressful. Especially for me when there was so much for me to trip over." You tell him. He hums, 

"You did great. You looked amazing all night and you were such the little party host." 

"I'm the bride, I have to be." He sits on the bed beside you, clearing his throat, 

"Yeah, I guess." Sighing, you roll so your body is pressed into his side. He leans back on the bed on his elbow, loosening his tie, 

"It was a pretty good night. You did good on the planning love." He chides. You smile, 

"Thanks babe. I put my heart, soul, and money into this perfect day." He nods, raising his eyebrows, 

"That's for damn sure." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"I couldn't imagine any other wedding being more perfect than ours. It was really fucking beautiful." 

"To be fair, your dad paid for a lot and my parents contributed too." He reasons with a shrug, staring up at the ceiling when he moves to lay back on the bed fully. You smile, leaning in on his chest. He sighs, 

"I loved every minute of it." 

"That's all that matters. You only get one wedding and it should be perfect." 

"It was. I love you." He smiles and leans up to kiss you, 

"Love you too darling." You sit in silence for a moment before you sit up and take his hand, 

"Unzip me, I have a surprise for you." You tell him. He hums, sliding the zipper down your back and moving to lean on his elbows again as he watches you slip from the wedding dress, revealing a beautiful set of ivory colored lingerie, an intricate piece that draws Tom's eyebrows up again, 

"Well that's one hell of a surprise." 

"I had every intention of wearing blue but this is a wedding night set and I couldn't pass it up." 

"Yeah, no, you'll have all kinds of opportunities to test out different lingerie. Heaven forbid you pass up this opportunity for wedding night lingerie." He murmurs. You smile, stepping from the puddle of tulle, lace, and satin at your feet and leaning in on his knees, 

"So I assume you like it." You coo. He snorts, 

"When have I ever not liked lingerie on this sweet little body?" He asks. You giggle, 

"Never." 

"Exactly." Moving his hands onto your hips, he drags you into his lap, your lips covering his. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands up your back. Your fingers move down to unbutton his shirt. You smooth over his stomach, his hands traveling down to hold onto your hips, 

"Shall we try and figure out what's so different about married sex?" You ask him. He smiles, pulling back to look into your eyes, 

"I think that'd be quite great actually." He murmurs. You smile down at him, 

"Just think... you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant now because we're already married." He chuckles, watching you reach behind you and unclip your bra, tossing it aside. He licks his lips, 

"I'd love to know what these'll look like when you end up pregnant." He murmurs, moving to massage your breasts into his hands. You tip your head back, holding his shoulders. You slide your hands beneath his button up brushing it from his shoulders. He sighs, 

"So perfect." 

"So yours." You murmur. He chuckles, 

"You're damn right." You giggle before he's leaning back, pulling you with him. You lean on the bed over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him, 

"I love you husband." He smiles wide, 

"I love you, wife. More than you'll ever know." You lean back in to kiss his throat, his hands skirting down to your hips until the cold metal of his wedding ring is pressing into your lower back. 

The next night, after landing in Fiji and checking into your bungalow, Tom slides down into the sand beside you. He sighs, squinting in the setting sun and holding a beer out to you. You take it, thanking him softly and sipping from it. He does the same as you look him over. He looks calm for the first time in months. His hair is flat and he's wearing a tee and a pair of cotton shorts, no shoes on. You smile when he looks at you and his eyebrows furrow, 

"What?" He asks through a laugh. You shake your head, 

"Nothing, I just love you. You look good right now." You move to lay your head over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, laying his head over yours and reaching out to squeeze your knee, 

"Happy first night of forever." He mumbles. You squeeze his body against yours, 

"So far, so good." You tell him. He hums, 

"Can't go wrong with me." Giggling, you sip from your beer again, leaning your arm on his knee, 

"I will admit, seeing "Mr. and Mrs. Holland" on the door was a really surreal thing for me." You tell him. He smiles, moving his hand up into the light to look at the ring on his finger, 

"I've always been called Mr. Holland in a professional sense but... hearing Mrs. Holland and knowing that it's in reference to my wife and that you're finally, fully mine is like... insane." He admits in return. You nod, 

"I agree." You murmur. Nudging the neckline of his top down, you brush a finger across the hickey you'd left the night before. He smiles, 

"The markings of a spoiled little wife." 

"I really don't think I'll ever be over the whole wife thing. Like... hearing you say it blows my mind. I definitely thought I'd be your girlfriend for the rest of my life and you'd never be ready to marry me." 

"I was ready to marry you the second you came back from New York after Spring Break." 

"Liar." 

"I did. I never wanted to let you go again. I had fucked up and never wanted to risk losing you again." He explains. You smile, looping your arms under his and leaning your head on his shoulder, 

"That's truly adorable. You've still had your moments but... I have no doubt that all the growth you've done since that whole mess has helped you. Really." He nods, 

"I feel a lot better, that's for sure." He tells you, sighing. You hum, 

"I'm glad. You know... we both have to be in a good mindset to have a baby." 

"Speaking of, you are okay with having a baby like... soonish right?" He asks. You shrug, 

"Yeah, sure, why not?" 

"I just obviously wanna make sure you're comfortable and we're on the same page." He tells you as you move to lounge between his legs. You scoff, 

"Bitch I just married you. There isn't a thing you could do to make me uncomfortable. We're one now." He chuckles, laying his hands over your stomach, 

"But you would tell me if something is out of your comfort zone right?" He asks. You nod, eyebrows knitting together, 

"Course." 

"Good." Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh, closing your eyes. He presses his lips to your temple and leaves them there, breathing you in. The setting sun provides a nice warmth, 

"I say we just never go back to America. We just run away and become permanent travelers." Tom chuckles, 

"And abandon my very expensive diploma, I think that's a dumb idea love." He tells you. You hum, 

"You could very well get a big break in Europe without the degree." You reason. He hums, 

"That'd be great to take you back to my home." 

"Well since we'll be traveling, you very well could give me a better tour of your little hometown." You confirm. He nods, 

"That sounds really good." A silence settles over you, the sound of the waves crashing being the only noise around. He reaches up and rubs over your shoulders, 

"I'm glad we're here." 

"Me too." You tell him quickly. He smiles, 

"I'm really glad you agreed to marry me." He says. You giggle, 

"Me too." His smile widens. He leans in and kisses you softly when you rise to your knees and turn to face him, 

"I think we should revisit the newlywed sex." He implies with a raise of his eyebrow. You hum, 

"Me too. Definitely." He chuckles softly before he's standing and taking your hands, leading you back through the sand to your bungalow, pushing you on the bed softly once he slides the door closed. 

                                                          --- 

                                           *Seven Years Later*

"Mia darling, please don't do that." Tom calls to your oldest child, hoisting Harper, your current youngest into his lap with her holding his fingers and climbing his chair. He focuses on the two year old, her hair falling down her back and her legs tangled up in her dress. He rubs her back once she snuggles into him, kissing her forehead. 

Not long after your wedding, you were pregnant with Mia. The second Tom found out she was a girl, he couldn't drop the smile, convinced that the talk of having a girl first all throughout college was just divine intervention. Seeing your husband as a father that first time was unlike anything else. He couldn't put his baby girl down. You were his girl, and he followed you around like a lost puppy, but the second you gave birth to little Mia Faye, he was hooked. And the process continued with your first son three years later, Wyatt James was held in Mia's lap, who was always in Tom's lap. And then again with his second baby girl, Harper Monroe. And now here you are, pregnant with your final baby, another sweet boy who Tom talks to daily, first thing in the morning before he wakes your three older kiddos to bring to bed and see you and at night, right before you go to bed, wishing your little wiggly bean goodnight. He already has a name, Oliver Ethan, and you're excited to have a complete family, four kids to grow up together and travel with, something you and Tom have loved doing since being out of college. 

Cole sighs as he sits beside Keaton who holds his and Phoebe's daughter, Emma's tiny purse, glancing up at his ex-roommate, 

"'S the matter? Being the father of the birthday boy is tiring?" He teases. Cole rolls his eyes, 

"Not only that, but when his papa decides it's time to spoil him and he wonders why mommy and daddy don't do the same, it can get interesting." Cole explains. You smile, rubbing the baby bump over your dress. Tom watches you, 

"I'm just glad that he has a papa. You and dad have gotten along pretty well since he's moved out here." You tell him, reaching up to stroke through Tom's hair to soothe you both. Cole crosses his arms watching his daughter, Daisy, follow Scarlett around, Logan and Ashton, Ivey and Harrison's older boys by her side like they always are when the group is together, 

"I guess so, yeah, it's been... weird. He avoids bringing up mom which makes it awkward but... he's a good enough grandfather. The kids like him and if Scarlett needs help and I'm not available, he's been there." He explains. You nod, leaning into Tom's side. Harper twirls your hair around her finger sleepily, Tom leaning in to kiss her pudgy cheek, 

"Regardless, you guys are talking and actually acting like father and son. Now we have like an actual family again." He nods, 

"Yeah..." Keaton yawns, 

"And what about you Ke? Now that dad's back here and starting that branch of his company here and you're working for him again, how's it been?" He glances up as Phoebe slides into the chair beside him, 

"Yeah, it's good. Back to better payment, being the assistant. It's pretty nice." 

"And no such luck with the baby making?" You ask. He smiles, looking to Phoebe, 

"We're getting there. It's been a hard process but... IVF has been going pretty well." 

"I'm trying to calm the fuck down." Phoebe starts, dragging her fingers through her hair, "I know that going through all of this, the IVF'll fail and then I'll get pregnant naturally." She says with a roll of her eyes. Keaton smiles, 

"The embryo we transfer next month is a girl. Our little Sophia so... hopefully. Fingers crossed." He says. You smile and nod, 

"All our fingers are crossed." You tell them. Keaton smiles, glancing up as Wyatt runs up to you, 

"Mommy..." 

"Yes my love?" You ask of him as he leans in on your legs, 

"Can I go with Mason to his room to see his toys?" He asks you. You brush his hair from his eyes, 

"Did you ask Auntie Scarlett or Uncle Cole if you could?" You ask him. He glances around, 

"Mason asked auntie." 

"If she tells him yes, you can go with him but- hey, Wyatt... but if you go in his room, you need to be careful and don't do anything bad okay? Pick up after yourself like we tell you to do at home." You tell him. He nods before running off to find his cousin. Tom is smiling when you look to him again, 

"What?" You ask. He shakes his head, 

"You're just a really great mum is all." He mumbles, helping Harper slide from his lap again, "Where are you headed love?" He asks, but she ignores him and runs off towards the jumper. You giggle at the pout on his lips, glancing up when Ivey sighs behind you. Her and Harrison slide in between you and Keaton and Phoebe, the little green blanket she left with half an hour ago to quiet the crying cradled in her arms again, 

"He okay?" You ask. She nods and rolls her eyes, 

"He's had a little bit of colic so... he's just cranky but... he's fed and asleep. He should be good for a little while now. Logan and Ashton been good?" 

"Yup, only pulled Daisy's pigtails once." You joke. She huffs, 

"I believe you. Ashton, if you don't tend to him in time, pulls your hair to get up on your chair or whatever he wants. I swear... sometimes if Harrison doesn't collect them while I'm feeding or something, he's sleeping on the couch." Harrison snorts, 

"Yeah, we've had to take up stock in ice cream to keep the boys away from mum." He murmurs. You giggle, watching Ivey roll her eyes before she reaches an arm out and rubs over your belly, 

"How's this little one? You're about in your eighth month huh?" She poses. You nod, pressing a hand to the base of your belly, 

"Yeah... he's doing good. He was super rambunctious last night. We were up all night last night watching him swim and kick. He's gonna be our biggest baby I think." You tell her. You carry a huge smile and taking a glance at Tom, you see he does too. He's so proud of this family you've created. He loves you and all three, almost four kids you have, 

"And Rosie is back to being her protective little self with new little man?" Harrison asks. You nod, 

"Soooooo much. She's normally with the kids but if I sit down, she's right in my lap, head laid over the bump." You tell him. He smiles, 

"She's been pretty great eh?" 

"Oh and her and Tessa get along so damn well when my parents bring Tess down." Tom pitches in. You smile, 

"They've both been great. We were blessed in a lot of ways." 

"That is so good. She's been such a great girl for you." 

"She really has, and Y/N never had animals growing up so she's been a great little companion for Y/N's first time." Tom explains. Ivey nods, glancing up at you, 

"And she's grown up with the kids technically." You pose. Ivey smiles, 

"That Christmas card... so damn cute. You guys with the matching kids and Rose. I can't believe how tall Wyatt is getting. I bet he'll be taller than Tom before we know it." She winks as Tom rolls his eyes, 

"Ha ha. Very funny." She smiles, 

"You know I'm kidding. He's so cute though. All those freckles. He looks just like you Tommy." 

"Well he's lucky then." Your husband murmurs, smiling when you swat at him. He leans over and kisses your cheek, 

"He's hooked on his mumma though. Doesn't ask me for shit. Goes straight to her." 

"Well you've got two baby girls that go to you. So... I'll keep him." You defend. Tom chuckles 

"Who is that? Is that Auntie Y/N/N?" You glance up just in time to see a tan little boy move into your line of sight, giggling. You smile up at him, 

"My little Hunter!" Gil chuckles as you take his little boy, laying him in your lap to tickle him. Tom laughs along as the little boy squeals and Gil leans in to kiss your cheek and then Ivey's, 

"Bout time you showed." 

"Mmm, Minah kept changing his outfit." He mumbles. You hug Hunter into you, smiling as Tom ruffles his hair, 

"Why didn't she come?" Harrison asks. Gil rolls his eyes, 

"Uhm, her mom's in town. But... I don't think she would've come anyways." He tells him. Ivey cocks her head sympathetically, 

"Still having problems?" 

"Yes, and she wants another baby like that'll magically save our relationship." He remarks. You smile up at him, 

"Well I dunno about you but I think this little one is great." You tease, tickling Hunter again. Gil's smile returns when Hunter giggles, 

"He's the only thing that keeps me sane." He tells you. Tom nods, 

"That's how it works." Reaching out again, Tom brushes long strands of hair from Hunter's eyes, 

"I think Wyatt and Mason went to Mason's room. You wanna go see?" You ask him. He nods, squirming from your arms and running off. Scarlett catches him in the doorway, standing on her toes and pressing a hand to his head. She smiles before walking to the table you all sit at, 

"Are we having fun? I see there's only one kiddo here right now. Hi sweet boy." 

"He's not so sweet right now." Ivey mumbles as Scarlett leans over her shoulder and coos into the blanket in her lap. Surprisingly, the little one smiles a toothless smile up at his aunt, the smile growing wider when she reaches down and pokes his nose, 

"Not feelin good baby?" Ivey shakes her head, 

"Colic still." 

"The gripe water didn't work?" Scarlett asks, 

"Very briefly." Ivey confirms. Scarlett clicks her tongue, 

"Damn. Poor thing." Ivey nods, rocking the bundle. When both girls look up, they find you smiling at them. Ivey giggles, 

"What?" You shake your head, blinking tears away, 

"Nothing... just wondering how we got here. What happened to the girls I was introduced to eleven or so years ago? We were so young and carefree and look at us now. We're all moms. We're all wives and killing it all." Tom hums, reaching out to brush the stray tear that falls away. Ivey clicks her tongue, blinking rapidly, 

"Oh babes. You pregnant and me coming down from postpartum doesn't help this shit." She moves in, laying her head over your shoulder. Scarlett whines before she's brushing Tom aside and wrapping her arms around you and Ivey. Phoebe's heeled boots click as she rushes in to join the group hug, Owen, in Ivey's arms cooing up at her too. She smiles, 

"I know I was quite the party girl but... these little ones are the best things we could ever do. Ten... almost eleven, twelve when I get a clear head, these are our greatest accomplishments." She tells the three of you. You nod, pressing her hand over your belly, 

"Definitely." Your baby boy kicks out against her hand in agreement, making the four of you giggle. Tom smiles too, watching you and the girls hug before you part and you take his hand, squeezing and pressing it to your belly. He hums as he rubs the bump, 

"He's gonna be a rambunctious little thing. Reckon we'll be exhausted after chasing just him around." He says, scooting closer to you. You smile, reaching up to drape your arm over the back of his chair, trailing up his back, 

"Well you're the one that had the years of experience of chasing girls around so I think you're suited for the job daddy." His smile widens, 

"Please never mention that in front of the kids. I don't need my little girls knowing and my little boys thinking it's okay that their dad was a womanizer in this very gender equalizing, accepting time." He murmurs. Leaning into him, you kiss his cheek, 

"I promise not to." 

"Thank you." Scarlett, who had previously walked away, starts back towards you, wide smile on her face, 

"I have another tiny slice of cake. I know you and baby boy want it Y/N." You gasp, holding your hands out, 

"Oh my God yes, you're a lifesaver!" You squeal. Tom watches, chuckling softly as you snatch the thin slice of chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream frosting from your sister-in-law. You offer some to him, but he shakes his head. He glances up at the bouncy house, clearing his throat after a moment, 

"Uh oh. The sugar monster's coming. You made a grave mistake accepting cake behind her back like that." You glance up, watching Harper trot towards you, climbing back into her father's lap. He holds her steady moving his legs closer to you to allow her to chomp the piece of cake from your fork. He tucks hair behind her ear, 

"That's good huh lovey? You are never getting to bed tonight little one." You giggle, watching a sparkle flash through Harper's vibrant brown eyes, 

"But with her daddy's puppy dog eyes, no one can resist her." You reason. He nods and leans in to kiss her cheek, 

"Well that's for sure." He murmurs. Once you've finished the cake, Tom holds Harper close, the little one allowing her daddy to love on her. He glances at you and raises an eyebrow and you know exactly what he's asking. The second she saw the cookies upon entrance, it's all she was stuck on for a while. She's such a daddy's girl because he spoils her and you just know he's asking if he can give her a cookie because she's been so good with no tantrums. You chew the inside of your lip, 

"Just one." 

"That's all I'm asking for anyways." He confirms. You nod, 

"Fine then. Nothing more though." He nods, pulling her from his shoulder, 

"Harp, I have a surprise for you, you wanna know what it is?" He asks her. She nods, standing on his thighs, holding onto his hands. He smiles, "You want a cookie? I know you wanted one earlier." Her eyes light up and she nods, bouncing on his legs gently. He chuckles, 

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you one then, yeah?" She nods again, clinging to him as he stands and your heart flutters. To believe that the same man that fought you on a relationship and constantly pushed you away, is now holding your two year old daughter to his hip at a kid's birthday party is beyond imagination, and it is the most beautiful thing ever. 

                                                         --- 

You smile as Tom grabs your wrist, pulling you flush to his body, 

"I know you're exhausted love, and I'll go get you some ice cream after the kids are in bed but... I missed seeing you with all of our friends. You looked stunning all glowing and pregnant out there." He tells you, pressing a hand to your belly. You smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek, 

"You're the sweetest." His smile widens before he leans down to kiss you, 

"I've spent a long ass time loving you and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Especially when you're pregnant with my baby. You and those three... almost four in there, I'd kill for." He reminds you. You sigh, 

"I really lucked out in the husband department then huh?" You ask. He chuckles softly, 

"Guess so, yeah." Popping open the passenger side door, Tom waits until you climb inside to close you in. He climbs in beside you quickly, turning the car on before Mia speaks up, 

"Daddy?" 

"Yes love?" He asks, turning in his seat to face her, 

"Can we listen to Frozen?" 

"No," Wyatt speaks up, "put on Cars." 

"How about we meet in the middle and settle for some Brother Bear or... Lion King?" Tom poses, settling the argument your kids'll inevitably have. And it works. Tom finds the soundtrack for Brother Bear in his phone, quickly shuffling it and stuffing the device in the cup holder. His Spotify has slowly become Disney movie playlists since he's become a dad and he loves every second of it. Harper swings her feet, staring out her window as she hums along to a song, Tom watching her in the rear view mirror with a smile plastered on his lips. You reach up and stroke over the back of his neck, leaning over to kiss his cheek, 

"You are so perfect Tom Holland." You tell him. He draws his eyes off the road for just a moment to look at you, 

"Well that makes two of us Y/N Holland." He says, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Squeezing his fingers in yours, you sigh and twist in your seat to look at your babies. 

Wyatt resembles his daddy the most. He has the same signature curls and eyes and you can already see he's starting to inherit the same nose Sam has and those Holland freckles have emerged. He's definitely a little mama's boy and with the way the girls favor Tom, you hope Oliver will follow in his big brother's footsteps. Mia has Tom's eyes too, but her features resemble you a little bit more. She has your hair type and color, and your nose and eye shape. Tom loves that about her. Harper has more of your features as well, but she's a near perfect combination of the both of you, a gorgeous little girl that Tom coddles the most because she'll let him. He's been in love with all of your babies since the day they were conceived, the most amazing father and husband, getting up at ungodly hours to let you sleep in and him take care of the kids. He's always been an early riser because of golf and now, being a dad, he has the skill to master it like he was never sure he'd be able to. His true calling in life, the cure for his anxiety, has been you and his babies. 

Dragging his hand back up to your lips, you kiss it, 

"I love you so much Tom Holland." You whisper. He smiles, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to look at you, 

"And I love you. More than you'll ever know." He replies, dragging your hand up to kiss it. Tears spring into your eyes again as you stare into his eyes and recognize that boy you met nearly eleven years ago, the one that only wanted to be with you sexually and wanted to avoid you emotionally. You recognize the boy that tore apart your relationship again and again, but always chose to get better for you. And now he's the most perfect husband and father. And that's all that matters to you. 

Yes, you were nervous moving to Seattle, starting new, but your friends, Tom, they've made it easier to live. They've changed your life for the better. They’ve given you immense amounts of love and Tom, himself, has given you a love like no other that created four beautiful babies. And you wouldn't change a thing. Moving from Beverly Hills to Seattle, has proved worth it.

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[sigurdjarlson]

you get it! reading greg as totally amoral slime might not be wrong but it's kinda meh. especially when you could read him as somebody who's too poor to put principals above a paycheck from a cushy office job. it ads some much needed depth and it's technically not wrong. I mean, he's well-off now, but there was a time when he had literally no money. he spent his first night in new york sleeping on a church pew. then he stayed in a youth hostel with like, 8 other guys and one shower. he ate doggie bags full of stale office cookies leftover from work that morning. he came really close to being outright homeless and if he'd quit working for atn because of 'the culture' he would've been. like, yeah, it's interesting to theorize that he's jealous of the roys and is fucking them over out of just greed, but a big part of his initial problem was just being THAT broke. brokeness will literally fuck with your whole moral code and who knows how long he spent being broke? but money corrupts so there's no getting out of succession with your principals. thesis statement. if I were greg I'd be worse though, so who's to say

I think that’s a big part of it too. Greg has so much more to lose than anyone else in the game. Logan will never truly let his children be free (which is tragic in its own right) so they will never be where Greg was since he’d be relinquishing control of them.

Greg will fall right back to rock bottom if he chooses the wrong team and screws up. You’re right in some ways he doesn’t really have the luxury of deciding to stand by his morals or any loyalty he may or may not feel because without a job he’d be completely broke (unlike the Roys who live off Logan).

Not to mention he’d lose any of what he perceives as a familial attachment to the Roys if he did so and then what’s he left with? His mom and grandpa again?

Greg is all about survival.

And the amoral slime reading just seems so reductive to me when it’s not accompanied by context? Yes he’s turning his back on his morals again and again but why is he doing that? (I also find it weird people say he never had them in the first place just because Tom said so or he floundered for an answer there)

Greg seems to want to be a good person in the beginning. Even now Greg is not a particularly malicious person. Even when he fucks people over its mostly out of self preservation not a desire to hurt just to hurt people.

He’s not being malicious when he’s being a leech either he’s trying to survive in the only way he really knows how and well, he probably figures the Roys are fucking billionaires so they’ll be fine (and they will be financially) they also generally treat him like shit so..

(That’s why I don’t care when he’s leeching off them lmao)

And I think it bugs me cuz a lot of times they imply he’s like innately an evil person and that just doesn’t vibe with how I view morality or Greg. I also think it’s missing the point of “power and money corrupts”

I’m not sure if jealousy is why he’s fucking over the Roys but I do think there is jealousy there even if he doesn’t actively think about it that might fuel why he wants this life so bad.

An Interesting thing I see is that characters like Gerri who makes her decisions based solely on self preservation get called a girlboss but Greg is evil lmao. Like I love Gerri but she is not a good person. No one who actively chooses to work directly for Logan is a good person.

None of these characters are good people but to read them as being evil for the sake of evilness is extremely reductive. They’re all very complicated and that’s why they’re fascinating to watch. They’re a product of their environment and yet they are still responsible for every choice they make. We all are.

They have sparks of goodness in them too but it’s often eclipsed by the bad because their world doesn’t allow for anything else.

But like you said it money is an issue and a huge factor for those who aren’t born with the the Roy silver spoon in their mouth (and despite what a lot of people claim, Greg did not grow up with anywhere close to their level of wealth) and that’s a big factor in why characters like Greg who didn’t grow up extremely rich do what they do.

Greg is greedy but he’s greedy for different reasons than the Roys are. He’s greedy because he’s never had it and finally does and wants to keep it. He’s been at rock bottom and he never wants to go back.

The Roys feel entitled to the world because they’ve always had it handed to them. Because they’ve been raised to believe they are inherently superior to everyone else because of their family name.

Greg’s entitlement maybe comes from wanting what he feels his grandfather unfairly kept from them. It’s wondering why he isn’t worthy? Why are they apparently inherently better than him? He’s got Roy blood too shouldn’t he get some of the spoils too? The Roy kids didn’t have to do anything to earn their father’s fortune after all.

It probably feels very unfair.

Also a lot of people focus on the nepotism aspect of Greg and see it as evidence that he’s innately a bad person? I find that SO weird when the Roy kids are a million times worse in that department? Shiv even says without Logan running the show they won’t have jobs lmao.

(Greg didn’t even want to pull that card in the beginning)

And frankly I’m going to side eye anyone who says they absolutely would never jump on the opportunity to get a better life through nepotism if it was an option. If I could call one of my family members and say hey, can I work for you and get rich too?? I’d wanna do it.

The Roys don’t want the company just because they want more money. They already have it. They obviously want to keep it but also the Company is basically a metaphor for what they see as their father’s love and approval. (Something they will never ever get)

It’s tragic on every side but the motivations are quite different. (And yet similar in some ways too)

Is it right that Greg is choosing to do horrible shit? No. Do his actions make sense given the context of his character and make me feel sympathy for him despite thet? Yes.

He’s focused on survival. He’s desperate not to fall back to rock bottom and desperation can make people do terrible things like you said. People are willing to do all kinds of things to survive.

Greg is just learning how to survive amongst people who will throw him to the wolves. Why does he owe a single one of these people loyalty? Why is he the only one expected to be the better person, you know?

S3 is undeniably Greg at his worse and unfortunately I think that’s going to continue. It’s the nature of the world he’s living in and I think he’s finally completely giving up on caring what kind of person he is this season?

Sometimes I think people feel like almost betrayed by his descent into assholery because he was introduced as almost the underdog you typically want to root for? But that’s not the story they’re telling. They’re telling us money and power corrupts and Greg is no exception. You can’t be a good person and live that life at the same time. You just can’t.

You either adapt or you get torn to shreds

And it’s very easy to watch the show and go oh I’d never do any of that but if we were faced with the decision and situation…what choices would we make?

[thirstyforcharacters]

When the Universe Collides (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how smacking yourself in the face with a cabinet was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hi! Since the first episode of Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out today, I wanted to write something for Sam! He’s super underrated and deserves more love! Also, this soulmate AU is extremely self-indulgent and has absolutely nothing to do with the TV show, but tbh I don’t care. Hope you all enjoy it too! (no y/n, no pronouns) (PS: any italicized text is Sam texting and the italicized and bold text is the reader texting!)

Warnings: mentions of a stab wound (nothing explicit), cursing I guess 

WC: 2.2 k

Your soulmate must have one hell of a job.

Almost every day, you woke up with dark bruises covering your body. It seemed that whenever one faded, another took its place. At completely random times, you would double over in aches that you certainly didn’t inflict upon yourself. One time, in the middle of the night, you woke up with pain in your stomach so intense, it felt like someone had stabbed you! It turned out that it was a stab wound, but given that no one had stabbed you lately (or ever), you figured it was from your soulmate. You definitely didn’t appreciate that hospital bill.

But you still desperately wanted to meet them. Meet that person that completed you: your other half. As a teenager, you made your parents tell you the story of the day they finally met so many times, you knew it by memory. They were both in the library at college, and your mom dropped a psychology textbook on her foot! Her howl of pain was only matched by the “SON OF A BITCH” that came from your dad on the opposite side of the library. When the two of them made eye contact, they instantly knew they were the ones for each other (they were also immediately kicked out for making such a ruckus). You wanted to have that moment so badly; meeting your soulmate was a huge milestone in every person’s life, and you needed it.

Your best friend and roommate, Brianna, had met hers just two months ago. They had met at the beach, when out of nowhere, Bri had shrieked in shock and pain.

“A crab just pinched me!”

When you had looked at her foot and told her nothing was there, she was totally confused, until you saw a handsome guy with a crab hanging from his foot! He had introduced himself as Julian, and the two had been inseparable since. He was living with you now, and you had honestly never felt more lonely in your life. Sure, you had your dream career; you ran a music shop in New York City, selling instruments, making repairs, and meeting all sorts of interesting people. You had a decent apartment, a chill best friend, and the cutest Yorkie, named Muffin, on the planet. By all accounts, you had it pretty good. You were just missing your other half.

It was a rainy day in NYC. The chill of winter was still clinging onto the March air, and you shivered as you trudged from your apartment to your shop. Even though you had an umbrella to protect you from the rain, the wind blew right through the too-thin jacket you yanked off of the coatrack in a rush. Still holding your half-eaten toaster strudel in your hand, you pushed open the doors to Major Instruments and Minor Repairs, your pride and joy.

It was two floors: the first was where you sold instruments, and the repair shop was above. Acoustic panels were attached to the burnt red walls to help quiet down the place, since the hardwood floors didn’t do much to help with that. The checkout desk was directly in the center in the room. Surrounding it were reeds, bottles of valve oil, and guitar strings. Picks were placed in two clear, plastic bowls on the desk itself. In the front left corner of the room was a grand piano, situated right in the window so passersby could see whenever someone plucked its keys. The entire back wall was covered in guitars and basses. To the right of the desk was a large drumset, accompanied by a pair of drumsticks and brushes. On the right wall were string instruments; string basses and cellos were leaned against the wall, while the violins, violas, and bows were displayed on it. Woodwind and brass instruments were scattered across the room in various display cases. Instrument stands, bow rosin, and miscellaneous instrument parts were on shelves throughout the room as well. The spiral staircase leading up to the repair shop was in the back left corner of the room. Behind the staircase was the door to the back store room, where you kept your extra supplies and also where you took your breaks.

“Good morning!” called Andrew, one of your closest friends from college, from behind the desk.

You waved in reply, wandering to the back store room. You were lucky you had Andrew; you could rely on him to run the front desk while you and Brianna assisted customers on the floor. Unfortunately, Bri had the flu today, so it would just be you on the floor, which would make things a little more hectic. You hurriedly finished your strudel, took off your jacket, which left you in a black and white flannel, a matching black tank top reading “Music is Life,” black leggings, and black combat boots (you had an aesthetic to uphold), and strode back out to the main area.

“You seem in a bit of a rush. Everything okay?” asked Andrew, who was currently restocking bell covers.

You sighed, “Just a whirlwind of a morning. Bri has the flu, Muffin nearly choked on a chicken bone, I almost burned my toaster strudel, and I smacked myself in the face with my cabinet door by accident.”

“Oh, that’s where the new bruise on your eye is from,” he mused.

You snorted, “Yeah, for once it’s not from my soulmate.”

“Maybe he’s a spy. Or a superhero!”

“Yeah, or a criminal,” you joined in on the restocking, grabbing some trumpet mutes since the place opened in just half an hour, “thanks for opening up, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, “you know I don’t mind.”

The doorbell jingled and two of your instrument repair people, Sarah (for strings), and Natalie (for brass), entered. Natalie was lugging what was unmistakably a tuba case, while Sarah carried both of their instrument repair kits.

“Morning, ladies!” called Andrew.

“Good morning,” Sarah replied pleasantly.

Natalie huffed out a “morning” and dragged the tuba up the stairs.

“Her tuba’s broken. The tubing that holds up her mouthpiece completely snapped off. She’s going to try and repair it before her appointments today,” explained Sarah.

You winced, “That’s rough.”

Sarah dropped off both of their jackets and followed Natalie up the stairs leaving you alone with Andrew again. Soon after, Erik, your percussion guy, and John, the woodwind repairman, arrived, and it was time for the shop to open. For a while, it was just another mundane Thursday. Customers came and went. People tested the piano and drumsets, someone bought $100 worth of jazz scores, and a teenaged boy came in who somehow got a ping pong ball stuck in their trombone (you learned to never ask). But at exactly 1:47 pm, a time you would never forget, two very unexpected customers walked through the threshold of your store. You were up on a ladder, carrying a large, rather heavy, box of violin bows to situate on the wall, when you heard their voices.

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m a wizard at the saxophone.”

“Sure, Sam. I’ll believe it when I hear it.”

“I’m serious, dude! I played all the time before I joined the military, and I picked it back up a little bit again after the whole Avengers thing. I just need to get a new one.”

“Hmm, okay. We’ll see.”

“Bastard.”

You whipped your head around and saw the Falcon and the Winter Soldier themselves in your shop. Having superheros in your place was a first. And who knew Sam Wilson played the saxophone?

Andrew offered them a cheerful greeting and directed them toward the saxophones, which happened to be near the ladder you were teetering on. Every time you leaned up to put a bow on display, it wobbled so badly you thought you were going to fall. You really needed to allocate some funds toward a new one.

As you continued to place bows on display, you heard the conversation of the two gentlemen browsing the saxophones. Apparently, Sam much preferred the tenor sax (which you happened to play, quite well you might add). Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pick up a Selmer Paris model and inspect it. Those didn’t come cheap, but you were sure that saving the world gave a man a pretty decent paycheck.

“You think I can test it out?”

“I don’t know, dude. You should probably ask.”

You saw him nod, “Yeah, I guess so. And there’s not a reed in here, anyway. Excuse me!”

You realized he was calling you, so you craned your head to look at him. Both men were looking up at you, both with kind smiles on their faces.

“Is there any way I can get a cheap reed to test this out with,” Sam asked, “and are we even allowed to test them in store?”

You smiled back, “Yes, you can. We have test reeds at the front desk, just ask Andrew and he’ll give you one. That’s the only one you’ll get though.”

“Cool, thanks,” he replied while looking around, “nice place you’ve got here.”

Your smile grew a little wider, “Thank you! It took a little while to get it off of the ground, but I’m really proud of how it turned out.”

It was almost as if the universe wanted you to suffer. You stretched up to display yet another bow, and the ladder toppled to the ground, taking you with it! You shrieked in surprise and braced yourself for the impact with the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, you were caught in a pair of (ridiculously) muscular arms. When you looked into the arms of your hero, of course it was Sam himself. He was too handsome for his own good. The thing that stood out most to you were his deep brown eyes. And how, on the left one, was a bruise that exactly matched the one that you gave yourself this morning.

“Are you alright? That ladder must have it out for you,” joked Sam, though you could tell that he was concerned for you.

“I’m okay,” you squeaked, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem. All a part of the job.”

You nodded distractedly, still fixated on the bruise adorning his eye. He couldn’t be your soulmate, could he?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned.

“I-yes. I just got a bit, well, distracted.”

“By what?”

Well, it was now or never. You might as well just go for it.

“When did you get that bruise?”

He looked a bit surprised by the question, “The one on my eye?”

You nodded.

“This morning. It just popped up. Hurt a little bit, like something hit me in the face. Can’t be worse than what I’ve given my soulmate, though. I got stabbed in the stomach once and all I could think about was how confused and hurt they must’ve been,” came his reply.

It was him. It had to be! All of your random, serious injuries made so much more sense now.

“It did hurt,” you murmured back, “but not as much as the hospital bill.”

His face went from apologetic to elated faster than you had ever seen, “Wait, that means it’s you?”

“I think so,” you said, “I hit myself in the eye with a cabinet door this morning, and that-” you gestured to his face, “matches mine.”

“Oh, it does!” he exclaimed.

“Are you two done over there?” complained Bucky.

Thankfully, the Winter Solider had successfully rescued your box of bows.

Sam stood you up, and you could feel the embarrassment slowly creeping over you, “Yeah. Sorry about that, guys. Promise I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Seems like you need a new ladder,” Bucky told you.

“You don’t say,” you sassed back, prompting a laugh from Sam.

Bucky then strode off to return the fallen box to Andrew. He gave Sam a knowing look as he passed by. He wasn’t very slick, though, you totally saw him.

“Listen, since apparently we’re soulmates and all, I’d love it if I got your number. I’ll take you somewhere nice to make up for all of the times I’ve gotten you hurt,” explained Sam.

You smiled bashfully, “That sounds nice.”

He handed you his phone and you input your digits. As Sam and Bucky were in the checkout line, your phone buzzed.

Hey, gorgeous. It’s your new man.

You giggled softly and looked up at him. He gave you an exaggerated wink and launched finger guns at you, making you laugh a bit harder. You entered his number into your phone and decided to send a text back.

Looking forward to you making up for all of those broken bones.

Me too.

You knew you’d be happy with him. Whenever the universe collided in this way, it always turned out for the best. If your parents and your roommate weren’t enough proof, soon you would discover it for yourself. You couldn’t wait for all of the memories you’d make together.

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too - Chapter 5 < ao3 link

Or catch up! >>>

Chapter 1 / ao3

Chapter 2 / ao3

Chapter 3 / ao3

Chapter 4 / ao3

Story summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter summary: Bishop gives Mia a talk then Mia and Angel have some fun.

Rated: SMUT. Sex, oral, cream pie, all that good stuff.

A/N: Esai Alvarez in this story is played by Manny Montana with Rio from Good Girls tats! Just a reminder!

Chapter 5:

“Mija?” Mia hears Bishop’s voice travel up the stairs to the bathroom where she’s finishing getting ready for a party at the clubhouse. The boys just got a big payday and that usually means a fun night.

“Bathroom!” she calls back while touching up her mascara, not at all surprised Bishop is the one to pick her up today. Angel was very clear in his text this morning the reason he wasn’t climbing into bed with her was because her godfather mentioned he planned on stopping by. Angel also mentioned that he was tired as fuck and couldn’t wait to see her later.

It doesn’t surprise her that Bishop wants to see her, he always wants to touch base after being gone on a run, and him and the boys did two back-to-back over the last week and a half, with only being home one day in between.

What does surprise her was that Angel texts her when they are on runs. It isn’t frequent, of course, but it is at least once a day, sometimes more if possible. He doesn’t say much, just that everything is going good and everyone is whole, but just the fact that he even tries means the world to her.

Most the time with Esai, Mia didn’t know he was home until she woke up and found him in bed with her, or passed out on the couch, or heard from Bishop that they were home and wanted to get lunch or dinner or something. It was rare for Esai to text her daily on runs—maybe when they first got together or if something particularly shitty was going on with her mom. She got maybe one or two texts over a five-day period, if that.

She hears Bishop making his way through the shopping bags that litter her bedroom floor. “Nice to see you’re spending your money wisely,” he comments.

“You’re the one who said you wouldn’t take anything from me for the first three months,” Mia counters while twisting the mascara closed and giving her face a last once over. “I tried to give you more than half my paycheck because I know I owe you, but you—”

“I know, I know, I’m just fucking with you,” Bishop stops her with a chuckle as he leans on the doorjamb leading to the bathroom. “You’re only doing what I want you to do—rebuild your life. I’m glad you’re making yourself at home, or at least,” his eyes flick back to the mess on her floor, “making a few businesses happy. Took a trip to El Centro?”

“That’s where Letty said the good mall is, and some pretty awesome boutiques. She wasn’t wrong,” Mia answers with a shrug. “I got her a few things too, and I’m not letting Coco pay me back, just letting you know.”

“That’s his fight, not mine,” he responds with hands up in surrender and they both smile at one another. “You look… good,” he settles on after looking her up and down a moment later.

She’s wearing a new pair of Army green cargo pants that hug her ass and thighs but are baggy at her feet. It’s matched with a dusty rose top laced up through her breasts, showing skin the whole way, but has long flowy sleeves. She isn’t wearing a bra, of course, that would throw off the whole look, but is covered up enough that Bishop won’t say anything, even if his eyes do. It should elicit a different reaction out of Angel though.

“I know,” she replies, and he chuckles again, having learned long ago that fighting about her clothes was a losing battle. “Everything went good this week? No problems?” she asks while passing him on her way out of the bathroom and starts digging through the bags for her brand new white Nikes.

Of course, she knows all went well—Angel had told her so, but Bishop doesn’t know that.

“All the drops went good, prisons up the coast and in AZ are flush with enough H to keep our brothers inside on top, and the other charters are making their deliveries,” he informs her.

“And the Chinese? I know their order was a surprise, but it seemed like you all had it handled,” she says while slipping the Air Force 1s on and smiling down at her splurge. Her godfather’s right, it’s nice to have more than a handful of things to call her own again.

“We’re a well-oiled machine,” Bishop assures her and at this Mia chortles.

“You’re definitely a well-intoxicated one,” she jokes, and they laugh once more. “I’m glad everything went well, Bop. You guys deserve this party tonight, you’ve been working your asses off lately.”

“Like we need a reason to party,” he comments, and she grins. “But a big payday does always make the boys more agreeable, and that I’m a fan of.”

“I’m sure you are. I’m ready to go if you are,” she says and slips her phone in her pocket, the only thing she’ll need for the night.

“You, uh, don’t seem surprised I’m here,” Bishop mentions.

“We usually get together when you get home,” she reminds him. “I figured we’d be doing something. It’s past lunch, so dinner,” she adds on with a shrug. “And I’m paying by the way, no buts.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” her godfather states easily. “But, uh, wanted to check in, see how you’re doing now that you’re settling in at the job and the house, you know,” he goes on while taking a seat on her bed.

Realization washes over her. He’s not here for their normal post-run hang out, and this whole ‘check in’ shit is just that—shit. He knows how she’s doing with the job and the house, they talk every day, and before she started at the clinic he saw her everyday because she was making money at the clubhouse or scrap yard.

This isn’t just ‘checking in’. He wants to have a conversation about something particular but doesn’t know how to start it.

“I’m having flashbacks to my quinceanera, when you spent an hour talking about how I was about to become a woman,” she mumbles while taking a seat next to him, “but what you really wanted to know was if I was still a virgin because you knew Esai was about to ask me to be his girlfriend and you worried that he was going to deflower me that very night.”

“Did he?” he asks, and Mia looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That is none of your business, but no, he did not,” she appeases him, which isn’t a lie.

Technically, because she wasn’t a virgin that night, so when she had sex with Esai after her party she wasn’t deflowered. Not that he needs to know about that, there are some things her father doesn’t need to know. Esai was her first, but she isn’t fan of the word ‘deflower’ nor is she interested in talking to Bishop about the concept of virginity. No man’s dick is important enough to change any part of her identity.

“Good, good,” Bishop murmurs and nods. “My warnings didn’t stop you from slow dancing with him at every chance that night, though.”

“Bop,” Mia sighs and crosses her legs, “why don’t we do what we didn’t manage then? Just ask me what you want to know or tell me whatever it is you want to say, because it took me a good year to realize what you wanted from me during that long, excruciating talk before my party started.”

“I thought I was pretty clear about how decisions you made that night could affect you for the rest of your life, and how you needed to protect yourself, and do what you thought was right,” he replies.

“I was fifteen, Bop,” she reminds him. “Besides that, I knew Esai was going to officially ask me out, so I had a little more on my mind than figuring out what you were actually trying to tell me,” she goes on. “Plus, I was dreading what you all would say during your speeches, which I was right to because it was another hour of men talking about my virginity without actually talking about it and I was mortified,” she says then remembers that this isn’t the conversation her godfather wants to have. “What is on your mind, Bop?”

“Look,” he starts and leans forward onto his knees, his hands clasped together between them. “I know this shit ain’t my business, that we try to stay out of each other’s personal lives, but if it involves my club and one of my guys, I should at least know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?” Mia asks as dread trickles down her spine, not sure exactly how dumb to play. She doesn’t want to give away information he doesn’t know while he’s fishing for whatever it is he wants to know, you know?

Bishop continues, “I know these guys, Mia. I know them, I know their habits, their routines, and I know when something is off with one of them. They are my family just as much as you are, I’d die for them, and they’d do the same for me.”

“That’s morbid, but sweet,” she comments innocently.

“I’m being serious, Mia,” Bishop says, his voice booming. “I need you to be honest with me.”

“Then ask me what you want to know instead of trying to trick me into saying something,” she responds, her tone now just as serious.

“When we’re on runs and we’ve reached our drop point and we’re bone tired, we spend the night,” he starts. “But, boys being boys, they don’t always spend their time sleeping, if you know what I mean, and Angel is no exception.”

Mia’s stomach sinks. Does Bishop think she’s dating Angel and trying to tell her he slept with someone else on their run?

Sure, she and Angel aren’t together, but they agreed while they are hooking up to only hook up with each other. Then again, with the clinic opening she’s done little more than eat, sleep, work and repeat in the last two weeks. Maybe since she’s been too busy and tired for sex lately, he started to look elsewhere. After all, that’s what Esai used to do—get his needs met when on a run. It meant she was less likely to run into whoever he cheated with, and it also meant it was with a girl who knew better than to expect anything more from him.

“Okay,” Mia manages after a minute, not sure what else to say, and not sure why her chest feels like an open wound. It’s not the first time the guy she’s sleeping with stepped out on her when on a run.

So, Angel broke their deal, she doesn’t know what Bishop has to do with it, especially since he wasn’t supposed to know they were sleeping together in the first place. If he thinks they are dating does he think Angel just cheated on her? He always stayed out of her and Esai’s relationship—that is, until she brought him into it because she was a stupid, heartbroken kid who wanted her dad on her side, not caring what position it put him in with the club.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Bop,” she murmurs. “You know the rules, what happens on a run stays on a run, and I don’t know what this has to do with me.”

“I want you to tell me the truth about what’s going on with you and Angel, Mia,” he insists as he turns his face to look her in the eye. “I wanna know if you’re the reason why the guy who never makes the smart move and chooses to sleep on a run actually has done just that ever since you moved here.”

Oh. “Oh,” she mumbles and thinks of what to say as warmth blooms in her chest and she fights the urge to smile. He didn’t cheat on her!

Well, of course he didn’t, because they aren’t dating. He’s just the best friend she’s sleeping with.

“I know you two are close, and at the first I thought it was just him actually being tired, but it’s been months and—”

“Angel and I aren’t together,” she cuts him off quickly. “If we were, I would have told you,” she assures him. “That’s not something I would keep from you. I know what being with a guy in the club means, the power it holds, and the weakness it can be. I wouldn’t keep it a secret from you. Angel and I, we aren’t doing anything like that.”

“You sure about that?” he asks with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Yes. We’re sleeping together, that’s it,” Mia admits because there is no point in hiding it now.

They haven’t exactly been discreet. The boys know, Letty almost walked in on them, it’s only been two weeks and a few of the girls at the clinic are already whispering about him. Besides, Bishop’s too smart to think they are just friends; he knows the both of them too well.

“And we’re friends. Good friends, more like best friends, even though that makes us sound twelve,” she mumbles as an afterthought. “We can talk to each other, no bullshit, and he makes me laugh, but we’re just friends, I promise.”

“Friends,” Bishop repeats and then barks out a laugh.

“We are!” Mia insists. “I’m not fucking with you.”

He stands from the bed, a hand attempting to stifle his laughter. “No, no, I know you’re not. I know you believe you’re friends, that’s what makes this funny.”

“Bop!”

“You know, I was friends with your mother once,” he says.

“Ew! No, we’re not—this is not the same thing,” she tells him, standing so she can look him in the eye.

“Your dad was friends with her too,” he goes on.

“Enough, can we go now, please? You got the information you wanted, I’ve been adequately traumatized, I think we’re done here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can go. Just, be safe, will ya?” he pleads, his eyes much softer now.

Mia groans. “We went over this before my quinceanera too, Bop. I know how to use a condom and have my end taken care of—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” her godfather cuts her off. “I mean, I’m glad you’re using protection, but I’m talking about this,” he said and jabs a finger at her chest. “Your heart doesn’t give a fuck what’s going on up here,” he says and now points at her temple. “You have control over a lot in life, what you wanna do, where you wanna live, the stuff you wear and how you show yourself to the world, but your heart? That fucker you don’t have much control of, and it’ll get you every time, trust me. So, you protect it any way you can, you hear me?”

Mia nods and bites her lip. “I hear you, Bop,” she assures him. “But you see what you just said, that’s what you should have told me before my quinceanera,” she says. “That is the straightforward kind of shit a fifteen-year-old needs to hear.”

Bishop grins and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Shut up and get on my bike, will ya?”

“Sure thing, Papa,” she answers and leads the way down the steps and out the door, completely missing the look on Bishop’s face at her calling him dad, even if only in passing. If she had, she probably wouldn’t be calling him just ‘Bop’ much longer. “But I’m still paying for dinner!” she calls over her shoulder, not caring to listen to his response because she isn’t going to fold on this one.

Hours later Mia tilts her neck to the side, giving Angel room to continue his hot kisses, her eyes trying to focus on the fire in front of them, but everything is getting hazy. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have told you,” she murmurs, hoping he thinks her low tone is because she’s trying to be quiet, not because she’s breathless.

“What you mean?” he wonders, his lips now at her ear, his teeth teasing at her lobe.

“You wouldn’t be torturing me like this if I hadn’t told you Bishop knows,” she moans and pulls away when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “We need to stop. I told you we have to be respectful when he’s around.”

“Baby, this isn’t disrespectful,” he insists, his hands now playing with the lace strings at the front of her top. “If you want to see what that looks like though…” he says and tugs on the knot.

“Angel!” she gasps and slaps his hand away. “Be good.”

He grins and pulls away, leaving an arm around her shoulders and leans back in their bench seat. It’s the backseat of what probably was some kind of station wagon that the boys pulled out of the scrapyard. It fits three, and since they are so low to the ground Angel’s legs are spread out in front of them, otherwise they’d be touching his chest.

“Fuck, it feels good to be home for more than 12 fucking hours,” he sighs while scooting down the seat even more so his head can rest on her shoulders. “Feels even better to know I get to spend tomorrow doin’ nothing but you.”

At this, Mia laughs, and it’s full and hearty. “As long as you make it worth my time,” she comments. “I do only get one full weekend off a month, you know?”

“Mi dulce, have I ever not left you shaking uncontrollably on my cock?” Angel questions while lighting a cigarette, his actions very nonchalant after the sentence he just dropped.

“Hey, there’s a first time for everything,” she teases him.

He shakes his head at her. “Keep talkin’ shit, we’ll see how tough you are later,” he warns as he decides he isn’t comfortable enough and moves so his head is in her lap, his legs taking up the rest of their seat.

“Ooh, I’m scared,” she sing-songs.

“Better be,” he insists as smoke escapes his lips. “I just spent the last week on the road with dudes, busy as fuck, and without tasting my girl for sixteen days because of her job. I have needs, querida.”

Mia rolls her lips together to keep from laughing. “My poor little drug smuggler,” she coos. “Did you have a tough time partying in Oregon?”

“Yeah, fucking right. It always turns into a pissing match up there,” Angel grumbles. “They are the biggest charter next to Oakland, so they think they got bigger balls than the rest of us. The rest of ‘em forget they wouldn’t have any H if it wasn’t for Santo Padre risking our asses in the tunnels, over the border, and riding it up the fucking coast.”

“I’m sure you guys didn’t have a problem reminding them,” she comments with a hand carding through his hair.

“Didn’t have to,” he replies, “E did it for us. He’s still new to the prez patch, so he’s making sure everyone knows their places, that even though his pop isn’t the president of Oakland anymore doesn’t mean they aren’t in control.”

Mia’s movements stumble. “E? E—Esai was there?”

“Yeah. He likes to make himself known on big hauls, says he’s getting his hands dirty too, not just getting rich off our work,” Angel tells her. “Earns a lot of respect that way, and he gets to know everyone, even prospects.”

She nods, her eyes studying the orange glow. “He does have a way of making everyone feel special,” she mumbles. “Did he… did he, um, ask about me?”

Angel inhales deeply. “Asked Bish,” he says with smoke leaking from his mouth.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, they were walking away, wasn’t my business to listen,” he reminds her.

“Not your business?” Mia demands. “I’m—we’re best friends, it’s your business if I say it is and it is.”

“Oookay?” Angel says with his voice on the verge of laughter. “What did you want me to say?” he asks while flicking his butt into the fire. “’Wassup bro, you know the only girl you said you’d ever love? Well, I’m fucking her regularly. She says hi’?”

Mia shrugs. “You coulda gone without ‘the only girl you’d ever love’ part, I feel like that’s a little blow the belt,” she offers, and he chuckles.

“You’re alright with the ‘fucking her regularly’ part then?”

“I mean,” she starts with another shrug, “I’ve heard enough about his exploits, he can hear some of mine.”

Angel takes her free hand and links it through his. “You miss him. Just call him, querida.”

“He didn’t talk to you at all?” she asks, ignoring him, and his suggestion, as she does every time she thinks of it herself.

“We spoke, I guess? Said hi, asked how shit was, I said good, asked how his shit was, he said good, we laughed at something dumb Pac said—”

“Pac was there?” Mia questions, her voice sad as it tapers off. “Of course, Pac was there, he’s Esai's El Pacificador,” she mumbles to herself. “What’d you laugh at him for?” she demands with a punch to the chest with their connected hands.

“Ow! Nothin’! It was a joke. We weren’t laughing at him, geez,” Angel defends.

“Pac’s the fuckin’ best, he was always being made fun of by assholes when we were kids, but… he did it on purpose. That way they weren’t teasing anyone else,” she tells him. “Then Esai came around and a fight would break out. I was the look out,” she says with both nostalgia and pride splashed across her face. “We were the three musketeers.”

“Did that extend to when you and E started dating—stop fuckin’ hitting me!” he exclaims in a laugh.

“No, it did not,” she answers anyways. “But Pac felt left out so I’d make sure to plan stuff with the three of us,” she goes on. “He used to get upset because girls were afraid to date him knowing if they hurt him I’d fuck them up.”

Angel stares up at her and licks his lips. “Call them, baby, I know you miss them.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“It is. Especially with Paco, you think he’s gonna bring up what happened? He’s just gonna be happy to talk to you. He’s like a fuckin’ puppy with a gun.”

At this, Mia laughs. “You’re not wrong, but if I talk to Paco, he’s gonna tell Esai and—”

“So fucking call them both,” he cuts her off again. “Esai’s fucked you over enough times that he definitely owes you one. Call, you don’t have to say you’re sorry or explain shit if you don’t want to. If he’s fuckin’ smart he’ll just pick up wherever you left off.”

“Owes me more like a hundred and one,” she mumbles. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Alright,” he replies easily.

“That’s… that’s it? You’re not gonna keep pushing me or tell me I should do it or anything?” she wonders.

Angel sits up and gives her a shrug, “Ain’t my place. I said my part. I think you should reach out. You’ve never given Esai your new number, so he can’t do it. If you want me or Bish to pass your number along, just say so. Otherwise, it’s on you.”

Mia leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re cute, osito,” she whispers.

“Don’t spread it around,” he murmurs, then kisses her again.

“Imma spread something later,” she says and Angel chuckles against her lips. “That sounded better in my head,” she admits and drops her head to his chest.

“To be fair, I didn’t think we were spreading mulch around,” he replies while wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Fuck, that reminds me, I told Bish I’d cut your grass tomorrow.”

“You just volunteered for this?” she asks as she lifts her head enough to look him in the eye.

“He was about to make EZ do it, and I didn’t want him at the house—I’m tryna keep you naked most the day tomorrow—so I said I’d do it, that I was dropping by anyways,” Angel explains. “Now that he knows we’re fucking he knows that was a lie, but,” he stops with a shrug. “Imma still do it.”

“You’re trying to keep me naked tomorrow, huh?” she says with a smile. “Then how am I gonna give you a beer dressed in a tiny bikini top and my shortest shorts while you mow the lawn?”

Angel pulls her by the back of her neck until they are kissing. “That ain’t happenin’ unless you want me to take you right there in the grass.”

“Only if you’re on the bottom,” Mia counters, “I feel like grass would rub in a bad way, you know?”

He laughs as he drops his head to her shoulder. “So, you want my ass on fire?”

“Better than mine!” she replies. “And you get to stare at my boobs, so no complaining.”

“Never,” he murmurs, about to go into another kiss when they are interrupted.

“Either of you need a beer?” they hear over their heads and look up to find EZ.

“If we fucking did you look real empty handed,” Angel tells his brother, then grimaces when Mia smacks him once again. “Fucking stop that,” he mutters and rubs his chest. “It’s the same spot every fucking time.”

“No, we’re good Ezekiel, thank you,” Mia answers for them after a pointed look at his older brother.

“We are?” Angel asks with crinkled eyebrows.

“If you plan on driving me home, yeah,” she tells him and he pouts, but doesn’t speak up because he knows its code leaving soon.

He does, however, stand up. “Alright, if we’re heading out I gotta take a piss,” he says, taking her hint. “You should too, you know, for what I got planned for you,” he says while sending a wink Mia’s way before sauntering off.

“You know,” EZ starts while plopping down next to her. “He’s heading into the clubhouse like he hasn’t whipped it out in front of us all week on the road.”

“Yeah, most the girls have probably seen it too,” Mia agrees, and EZ laughs in agreement. “Woulda saved him a trip.”

EZ looks to see his brother disappear into the clubhouse. “Look, I, uh, wanted to talk to you real quick before Angel comes back.”

“Should I be nervous about this?” she asks, racking her brain for something EZ would need to talk to her about, but comes up with nothing.

“No, I just—” he stops and lifts his butt up as he reaches for his wallet. “When we were teenagers, Angel was real into art. He was really good at it too, it was something he and our mom did together.”

Mia nods, not wanting to tell him she already knew this, but is intrigued all the same. What could he have to tell her?

“But, uh, back then he doodled on everything. It drove our parents nuts. It would be all over the mail, the newspaper, his homework, everything,” he goes on. “He, uh, he stopped when Mom died, and as far as I knew he hadn’t gotten back into it,” he stops and looks to make sure Angel isn’t on his way back yet. “But, uh, before we left the motel at one of our stops, the guys made me go in to check the rooms, to make sure we didn’t leave anything. I saw this and took it without thinking,” he says and pulls a folded piece of paper from the wallet to hand to her.

She opens it with eyes crinkled to find a sketch of her done in pen.

“When I looked at it closer later I thought you should have it,” he finishes.

“I… um,” she stutters, her eyes glued to the paper. It’s only from her shoulders up, and it is rough, but undoubtedly her.

“You’ve brought out a part of my brother Pop and I haven’t seen in over eight years,” EZ tells her as she studies the sketch. “He’s not as angry or closed off. He actually even mentioned our mom the other day and we never talk about her.”

“EZ, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, Mia. I know you guys are just friends, but I know that my brother feeling lighter, and it’s all because of you. I just wanted to thank you and give you this. It’s of you, so you should have it,” he insists.

“Thanks,” she murmurs while refolding it and putting it in her pocket. “He’s my best friend, the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re the best he’s ever had too,” EZ tells her and stands, then offers her a hand. “Just don’t tell Coco, a fight might break out.”

Mia shrugs as he helps her up. “I don’t know, I think I could take him, he’s small, you know, and I have training.”

“I’d pay to see that,” he replies and they are laughing when Angel comes back.

“Aye, get your own girl best friend,” Angel jokes while slipping both arms around her shoulders from behind, making his little brother shake his head and walk away. “You ready to go?”

“I don’t know, but I am ready to cum,” she says then laughs at her own stupidity.

Angel turns her around and looks at her as if embarrassed for her before shrugging and lifting her over his shoulder.

“Ah! Angel!” she laughs with hands on his hips to steady herself as he heads for his bike.

“I’m just giving you what you want, mi dulce,” he insists. “Better yell bye to Bish, you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the weekend.”

Mia tries to take in her surroundings between the strips of hair blocking her vision, looking for her godfather in the upside-down masses. When she can’t find him, she just takes Angel’s advice. “Bye, Bop! I’ll call you tomorrow!” she shouts and the people around her laugh, Angel included.

“Alright, be safe!” she hears and raises a hand in acknowledgement at his double-edged meaning, but he has nothing to worry about. She’s on the pill and while Angel is in her heart, it’s not in a bad way, a way that would end in heartbreak like all her relationships do. He’s just her friend because anything more would fuck everything up and she isn’t going to let that happen.

Angel is too important.

*

It had just been a joke the day before, a flippant comment.

Mia had no real intention of putting on a bikini and teasing Angel as he mowed the grass, but—well, she did just buy one and it is hot outside and Angel isn’t one to turn down a beer, ever.

Him outside in a light pair of gray sweatpants and t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up didn’t help, his skin glistening in the California sun, hair free of its usual gel and so blowing gently in the breeze, and those dark shades on his face—it’s enough to make any girl weak in the knees.

Seconds later she’s running up the steps and digging through her shopping bags searching for the bikini Letty insisted she buy the day before. It’s a warm yellow with long strings that wrap and crisscross underneath her breasts before tying at her back. Instead of matching it with the bottoms, she jumps into her shortest black shorts that barely cover the slope of her ass. She throws her hair up into a messy bun before putting on some lotion, so her skin is extra soft and glowy, and envelopes her in a flowery smell, which she knows Angel is a sucker for.

Mia takes a beer from the fridge, cursing him for not buying twist offs as she searches for a bottle opener just as the lawnmower cuts off.

“Fuck!” she curses and decides to forget about opening it. If Angel actually decides to drink the beer while she’s wearing this they are going to share loud words.

She opens the door to the backyard to find Angel on his knees, his hands on the lawnmower, looking at something. He doesn’t look at her as pushes his sunglasses up into his hair before reaching for his phone and, she guesses, sends a text.

“I ran out of gas,” he calls over, his eyes trained on the cell phone screen. “Do you know if Bish keeps a gas can around?”

“No idea,” she answers while patiently waiting for him to look up.

“He doesn’t,” Angel confirms as he stands, his thumbs flying over the screen with a look of annoyance on his face. “He’s gonna send Creep with a gas can in a little bit, what’re you—” he stops as he finally lays eyes on her.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she says innocently and holds the beer out, but makes no move to get closer.

His eyes look her up and down. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks with no heat.

“What’re you talking about?” she questions and shakes the beer a little. “Do you want the beer or not?”

“Fuck no,” Angel answers. “But if you don’t get in the house right now we’re gonna find out if grass really does burn.”

Mia drops the bottle when Angel starts after her, and she shrieks with laughter. He catches up with her in the living room, grabbing her around the middle and lifting her off her feet.

“You think it’s funny to tease me, hm?” he asks in her ear, his hands splayed across her abdomen now.

“You were teasing me first,” she counters and bites her lip as his hands attempt to feel every inch of her. “Wearing those sweatpants low and showing off your arms. I’m only being fair.”

“You think this is me teasing?” Angel demands of her as he makes his way to the couch, pushing her down onto it. “Nah, I’ll show you how I tease, baby,” he warns before getting on his knees.

In retrospect, she should have known Angel would take this as some sort of challenge. He always does, even if they are just playing around.

Later, she might think he does it as a way to prove himself, even if subconsciously, to show he can do anything she puts him up to because his parents never expected anything out of him the way they did EZ.

But now, as his buries his face between her legs, the psychology of it is far from her mind. Except maybe her own, how she’s a glutton for punishment, but instead of falling into old habits of shitty boyfriends she does this. It’s a healthier outlet, that’s for sure.

“Angel, baby, please,” she pleads when he pulls away after edging her for the third time.

“You think you deserve to cum, mi dulce?” he asks as he wipes her wetness from his beard and starts to leave wet kisses up her stomach and chest.

“Yes,” she breathes and gasps when he nips at her nipple after having pushed aside the cup of her bikini.

“But you haven’t been good,” he tells her before switching to her other breast, teeth scraping and tongue swirling, making her moan and mewl. A moment later he slips two fingers inside her and she sighs at the feeling of something filling her up, even if it’s not as big and thick as what she’s craving.

“I—I have,” she stutters out as she cradles his face in her hands.

“You think?” he asks and his fingers crook inside her just right making her tremble.

Mia nods. “Please, I want to cum for you,” she whispers and pushes her forehead against his. “Angel, let me show you I can be good.”

He smiles at her, it’s easy and carefree makes her heart skip a beat. “Do as I say and I’ll let you cum as much as you want, okay?” he starts and she nods up and down over and over until he starts rubbing slow circle on her clit as his long fingers slip in and out of her. “Say it.”

“I’ll do as you say,” she moans, her eyes struggling to stay trained on his.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs with a quick kiss. “You’re not going to cum on my fingers or my mouth, you’re not allowed to,” he tells her, and she wants to whine, but knows it won’t help her case. “Soon, I’m gonna get on the couch and you’re gonna ride my dick,” he says, and she nods once more, this time appreciatively. “And you’re gonna cum as much as you can when I’m inside you. I wanna feel you cum on my cock, you hear me? I want to feel every single one of ‘em. I want you to cover my cock in your cream.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Mia agrees with her hands threaded into Angel’s hair.

“Then, when I think you’re done, you’re gonna get on your knees just like I am now and lick it all off me until I cum down the back of your throat,” he finishes.

“Yes, please. Angel, yes,” she pleads and pulls on his shirt in an attempt to get him on the couch, but all it does is make Angel remove his shirt entirely.

“Oh, baby girl,” he says with a lick of his lips. “I said ‘soon’ we’re gonna do all that, remember? I’m not done tasting you,” he tells her. “Until last night I went sixteen days without this, and I hated it,” he mumbles as his fingers start to play with her slit again.

Mia just closes her eyes and enjoys the feel of his fingers inside her, playing with her, torturing her.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he mumbles against her skin. “Look at me,” he orders, and she forces her eyes open, but her eyelids remain heavy. “Feel with me,” he says, his voice much softer now, and takes her hand in his and brings it down to her opening. “Put your fingers in.”

She does as she’s told and her much smaller fingers slide in with no resistance, coating her skin in her slick juices. She moans at the feeling, but it’s nothing compared to Angel’s long fingers, and not even close to his thick dick.

“I want you,” Mia whimpers as Angel guides her fingers in and out of her. “Not me, I want—”

“I know,” Angel cuts her off. “Here, see why yours is my favorite,” he insists and brings her wet fingers to her mouth to taste. She opens for him and he smiles. “Good girl,” he murmurs as her lips close around her own fingers.

“Mm,” she moans at her taste and Angel smiles at her.

He leans down and takes a swipe up her slit and mimics her ‘mm’ before getting up on the couch and shucking his sweatpants off. “C’mere, baby,” he offers, and she jumps at the chance to swing a leg over his hips and settles down on his dick. “Fuck, I missed you,” he sighs as she sinks down on him. “I know I said it last night, but it’s fucking true,” he insists with his hands on her hips.

“I missed you too,” she replies as she starts to move frantically on top of him, chasing the release he’s been keeping from her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders for leverage, and she leans her head to rest against his. “Please, please, please,” she chants as she practically impales herself on his cock.

“C’mon, you can do it. I wanna feel the way you shake around me,” he says and it’s like a switch goes off inside her and she does exactly as he says.

She cums and her body shakes as her pussy trembles around him, but rather than let her come down Angel starts bucking his hips up inside her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swears and buries her face in his neck as she comes again, not as strongly, but it still makes Angel cuss as she clamps down around him.

Mia’s still trembling when Angel shifts to lie down on the couch, his hands undoing the knot at her back so her bikini becomes slack. He slips it over her head and tosses it to the side before lifting her chin to look at him. “You done already, mi dulce?” he asks while pulling at the back of her knees so he’s even deeper inside her.

She moans, but shakes her head.

“You sure?” he wonders with a thumb circling her clit. “All you gotta do is tap out and get on your knees to finish this, baby.”

“I’m not done,” Mia says once she composes herself, then with a twinkle in her eye stands, hating how empty she feels, even if for only a moment, before turning around and settling back down on him in reverse cowgirl, knowing it’s one of his favorite positions.

“Yes,” Angel groans in pleasure, his hips bucking to get deeper inside her.

She leans forward with hands on her knees and gets her hips going, throwing her head back as she grinds down on top of him. Suddenly, she feels a tug at her scalp, and she’s pulled back against Angel’s chest, her back arched perfectly in the air.

With one hand in her hair, Angel uses his other to reach around and rubs his fingers into her swollen clit. “Where am I, baby?” he asks in her ear, his voice low and full of gravel.

“My stomach, holy shit,” she cries and cums, this time feeling a gush and she knows she’s creaming his dick like he wanted, and it only makes her hips move faster. “One more, one more, please,” she pleads with both Angel and herself.

Angel lets her hair go and both arms move to pull at the back of her knees so she’s folded in half, lifting her in the air as his hips buck up into her pussy. “You’re so fucking tight, baby girl,” he says with each plunge inside her.

Mia completely let’s go, letting Angel take the lead and relaxes the best she can in his arms, her pussy clenching on his cock as she readies to cum.

“Go, go, go,” he chants, and she does with a spasm, her whole body shaking as it does when Angel is deep inside her, pleasuring her over and over again.

She hears him grunt behind her and knows he’s painfully close, he has to be.

When he puts her down, she doesn’t hesitate. It takes all the energy she has left to get off him and turn on her knees, doing as she’s told and takes all of him in her mouth in one go.

“Fuck,” he swears with fingers threaded into her hair so she doesn’t move. “You taste yourself on my dick, querida?” he asks, and she nods as her head bobs. “Suck it all off, baby.”

It’s not even a minute later that Angel is emptying himself down the back of her throat as promised. She opens her throat and takes everything he gives her, swallowing his white heat.

When she lets him go with a pop, she finds his face looking completely blissed out as she wipes her lips.

“Wanna know a secret?” she asks while lowering herself on top of him, his arms automatically wrapping around her, holding their sweat slicked bodies close.

“Mhm,” he murmurs with fingers carding through her hair.

“Your dick is my favorite too,” she admits and hears him chuckle against her hairline.

Before her can respond they hear the loud roar of a motorcycle pulling up. “Fuck, that’s Creep with the gas,” Angel groans and flips so she slides down the side of him onto the couch.

“Have fun finishing the grass,” Mia sighs and feels a blanket being placed over her, making her smile.

“You think you’re real funny, huh?” he asks while hopping into his shorts.

Mia shrugs, then squeals when he tickles her side.

“Aye, Angel, you in there?” they hear as the door starts to open.

“Yeah!” her best friend exclaims and runs for the door before Creeper can come in. “Lemme take you ‘round back,” he says and stops the other Mayan from coming in.

Mia just smiles against her blanket thinking she’s a lucky girl. She’s got a best friend who can fuck her then get up and cut her grass. He’s definitely a keeper.

Taglist:

@joalsglasses @mrsamaroevans @justahopelessssromantic @mrsjaxtellerfan @rosieposie0624 @starrynite7114 @proudlittlewitchbitch @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @thesandbeneathmytoes @jasminee97 @jakiki94 @superhoeva

IF YOU WANT ADDED TO THE TAG LIST LET ME KNOW!

[dontcallmecarrie]

Replying to the commenters of this post [heads up for angst]:

To @kine-iende, who said:​

hot damn. if "our" justin was a mom-friend in their home-universe, here people would start questioning if justin was in secret a very motherly scrull or something (and be fine with it ^^). but yeah, love the trope too. was it "for the want of a nail" or "through a mirrorm darkly"? well, contrast and a what could have been would be lovely. feel enabled, whenever you want to write this :)

.

I am not very familiar with the concept of Skrulls [...iirc, that’s something introduced in Captain Marvel, which I have yet to get around to], but yeah, that tracks. Assuming it’s a thing they know to look for, though, because here Justin’s being themself is the biggest and most obvious way to establish that they are not canon!Justin.

Sure, they’re identical physically, but the moment either Justin opens his mouth, the jig’s up. 

As is, not five minutes into this strange hellscape where their oldest rival looked at them with no small amount of disdain in his eyes at first, Justin had already managed to charm their way out of holding and into a very relaxed “we’ll keep an eye on him” Avengers custody. 

Well, on paper at least— in reality, most of the team doesn’t really give a damn one way or another, whereas Tony starts out morbidly curious as to just how different NHDD!Justin is to the one he’s used to dealing with, and ends up getting a concentrated dose of All The Feels™ because the moment NHDD!Justin realized this Tony had a metric buttload of undiagnosed-and-constantly-belittled mental health issues and a support system that was equal parts duct tape and caffeine, he went “oh, so this universe is the Hell Timeline, okay, makes sense :) :) :) dammit Ivan you’d better fix this stat”. 

In retrospect, Justin’s not sure when exactly the horror show started; if it was the absolute lack of concern or care the Avengers had for their Tony, or the minute they noticed the gauntness in his face. Maybe the tension between Iron Man and Captain America, or the obvious bravado this Tony used– and the fact that none of the others so much as noticed.

All Justin knows is, a version of someone they care about is hurting, hurting badly and has been for a long time now, and that’s more than enough for them to go “oh, okay, mine now”.

.

For his part, Tony has no idea what the hell’s going on. The non-annoying Justin Hammer who crash-landed an Avengers debrief is...something else, and he’s torn between shock, pleasant surprise, and no small amount of existential angst and jealousy because in the span of a few hours, Tony’s had a brief taste of what some other version of him had for a lifetime, and...

Tony’s not sure how he feels about it. He’s a genius, he can wrap his head around string theory and all that good stuff, but numbers are one thing, having to live with the fact that somewhere out there, a version of him grew up with someone so unfailingly kind and supportive and—Tony can’t think of a better word for it than nurturing— and, in the span of seconds, had been able to call him out on his bullshit and seemed to instinctively push him to be better but not in the demanding way his father or the rest of the world had—

If he thinks about it too long, it makes him want to cry, just a little. Somewhere out there was a Tony who’d been enough for someone, who had never been asked to change himself, who’d been pushed up instead of repeatedly torn down and he didn’t know how to deal. 

He’d thought having a non-annoying Justin around would be funny.

This was not, it was goddamn distressing is what it was, because Tony hadn’t even known it was a possibility but now he is acutely aware of the fact that he got stuck with his Justin— the human embodiment of one of those yappy dogs who nipped at people’s heels thinking they were so tough, despite not being able to back it up.

This Justin was, uh, not that. Tony wasn’t sure if he was always like this, or if it was only with him because he shared a face with someone Justin cared about, but... was he always this much of a mom friend? And where’d that granola bar even come from, anyway? Not that he minded, it was a nice change of pace, but really?

...Tony was really going to miss him, once they figured out a way to send him back home.

.

To the commenter who said:

Stephanie isn’t a canon character, is she? Because if not, NHDD!Justin might be able to pull off a “the birth of my little sister awakened my previously deeply buried parental instincts” to explain his whole… [gestures uselessly].

.

Technically, she could be, in that Justin Hammer has a sister and nephew in canon [according to the wiki and a deleted scene, apparently]. I chose to make her a younger sibling in NHDD, to really emphasize the ‘reincarnated with shitty memory’ aspect of this AU. Specifically, while it’s never specified, Justin’s past life was...not great, and part of it was the fact that their younger sibling was sick. 

With what, they don’t remember anymore, but sick enough that they know health isn’t something to take for granted; sick enough that towards the end, they remember their parents had to choose between paying hospital bills and electricity, remember going to bed hungry because meds were expensive and their next paycheck wasn’t until Friday.

...suffice it is to say, there’s a reason Justin’s so protective of those he cares about, even if his memories faded a bit on the specifics as time went by.

To be fair, canon!Justin also cares for his sister and nephew; it’s just that NHDD!Justin acted more like a third parent than a sibling, once Stephanie was born. 

Bear in mind that canon!Justin’s situation is very different than NHDD!Justin’s, because canon!Justin was basically set up to fail from the start as a normal kid who was constantly compared to a child prodigy two years younger than him and terrible parents. While NHDD!Justin’s situation is similar on the surface, the difference is they’re literally a reincarnated OC, with all the baggage that entails.

Maybe, if their second life hadn’t been surrounded by adults with A+ Parenting Skills, 0/10 Do Not Recommend, their issues and traumas from last time wouldn’t have been exacerbated. If they’d been born to a regular family, Justin would’ve been a good kid but nothing special, and their memories of a past life would’ve faded away by the time they hit puberty.

But instead, they were born to the Hammer family, and proceeded to be put through the wringer. 

Which is bad enough, and meant they immediately started leaning hard on everything from their past life because these people wouldn’t know good parenting if it bit them on the nose, but...then Justin’s little sister was born, which immediately kick-started every older sibling instinct they’d ever had because last time they’d been responsible for their younger sibling’s health and safety and you can probably see where this is going. 

aka yes, some of Justin’s behaviors could arguably be called trauma responses and/or coping mechanisms and it’s something I only realized as I was writing this, and no, this AU was not supposed to be this messed up

Justin’s responsibility, their willingness to deal with shitty parents and do tremendous amounts of emotional labor if it helped anyone they took under their wing? That’s no accident, that’s what happens when a soul has to be the adult, has to step up because nobody else is going to. There’s a reason Justin has so much disdain for Hank Pym and Howard Stark’s immaturity, why they have so little patience for their parents as time goes on; their mental age means the older they get, the more they’re looking at the adults around them and judging them hard.

...ahem. Sorry for getting a bit off-topic, but hey, at least now you know a bit more about what’s going on inside Justin’s head!

And yeah, if he had to bs an explanation for why he’s such a mom friend, Justin’d be more than happy to point to his little sister as an excuse. So long as they know she exists, anyway; if not, he’ll just laugh it off and try to chalk it up to one of the differences between their universes.

.

edit to remove the stuff that got through my nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter because I was averaging a not-optimal amount of sleep as I got used to my new job

[youalexturnermeon]

Warm Beer and Cold Women Pt.3 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Request: Hi! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could get a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine where the reader is a bartender and starts crushing on him since he’s a regular and he flirts with her all the time and she pretends to hate it but she actually loves it? by Anon

A/N: Before you read you should know that I adjusted the timeline a little, all mistakes in the timeline that you are noticing are on purpose. Also I decided to let johnny keep his black Cobra Kai car in that one. Then I’m perfectly aware of the fact that I lowkey drifted away from the actual request but don’t worry, I’m coming back to that. It’s the second last part to this little series. Enjoy.

Warnings: badass reader, drinking, DUI, swearing, ANGST, a little fluff

Wordcount: 2650

"Jesus Christ, (Y/N), thank god you're finally here!" was the first thing you heard from Jenny as soon as you set foot into the bar for yet another late shift on a boring Thursday night.

"We've been waiting for you for hours!" Jenny said and grabbed your arm dragging you further inside. You were staggered, "What the fuck, Jen, I'm not even late, I know I was yesterday but I'm perfectly on time today! Look," you pointed towards a clock on the wall "8 pm sharp."

"Jesus, don't you ever check your phone?" she went on ignoring you. And as a matter of fact, you didn't. You trashed it a couple of days ago as a result of a drunk rage after another shift without your favourite regular. That's why you've been borrowing your colleague’s phone to call yourself an Uber home. But that was still not helping you understand why you were needed so much. Apparently, the bar was waiting for your arrival since the opening at last. In the distance, behind the almost empty counter you saw the staff door opening and Kenny making his way to you in a quick pace.

"She's is here!" Jenny called out to him as if he wasn't able to see that for himself.

"Finally."

"What the fuck?" you asked again, trying to think of all the things you could've done wrong in the past weeks, but you couldn't find any. You never messed up a drink, you always locked the doors, you even cleaned the puke in the men's bathroom. "Am I in trouble?"

Kenny shook his head, you looked at him quizzically.

"It's about your boyfriend," Jenny helped him out answering. You almost blurted out 'He's not my boyfriend' as it was already on the tip of your tongue because you were so deeply conditioned to say that. But when your glance skipped over the almost empty seats by the counter again, your heart suddenly skipped a beat and when it was back at keeping you alive it started beating so hard against your ribs as if it was about to burst. Johnny was back.

"He's been here since we opened at 5," Kenny said, sounding a little annoyed "He's drunk off his ass, came in drunk already, and refuses to leave until he sees you. We tried to throw him out but he's one persistent motherfucker and lowkey aggressive, muttering your name saying he needs to talk to you and nobody else."

"Yeah, maybe you should go and talk to him" Jenny affirmed. But you were already on your way. Without a word you almost stormed over.

At first you wouldn't have noticed him. He didn't look like himself, sitting there on his regular seat at the end, head hanging, covered by his hands. He looked rough.

The two weeks he didn't show himself, you almost started hating him. You thought him to be like any other man on earth who, after they broke you, finally got you to get soft towards them, waking your interest after hundreds of times trying, just disappeared without a trace. First you were blaming yourself, asking yourself if you went too far with your little game of pretend, whilst still waiting every day for him.  Had it been too much for him saving you the other day and getting his face bashed in for you? You wished he'd come and tell you what a bitch he thought you were to your face. Then you despised him for giving you up so quickly. But as soon as you laid eyes on him all these negative thoughts disappeared, and you were just concerned. Concerned about his condition, only the question inside your head how on earth you, a simple barkeeper, were able to help him with that. You grabbed a bottle of whisky and simply headed to the other side of the counter, not standing in front but sitting next to him this time. The worst about it, he didn't even take notice of you at first.

"Johnny," you said softly placing a hand on his arm. Like being electrocuted by this touch, he winced but finally looked up. You almost gasped at his appearance. Normally he was always clean shaven, now he looked like hadn't shaved in days. Besides that, he was also hurt. At first you thought his injuries might still be from his encounter with the three men that were bothering you, but the scratches and bruises were fresh, and a band aid was sticking to his forehead that wasn't needed before. Johnny blankly stared at you from his bloodshot eyes and you suddenly felt the urge to hug him. But you resisted, first you had to get him to talk. Instead, you grabbed two of the glasses in front of Johnny uncorked the bottle of whisky and poured you one. You took a sip of the burning liquid hoping for some courage to miraculously appear as you watched Johnny silently drinking, too.

Kenny walked by on the way back to his office, judgingly eyeing you.

"Damn, I have to start taking all the booze you're drinking here from your paycheck, (Y/N), slow the fuck down, would you?" he said sighing with one foot already inside. Out of a sudden Johnny snapped.

"Jesus Kenny, don't wet your precious leather pants," he shouted out, slamming his glass on the counter "I'm gonna pay for it! Let a girl enjoy her drink for once" Some heads turned in your direction.

You held still for a second and didn't dare to breathe, afraid of another fight to happen since normally Kenny didn't allow anybody talk to him like that. But he simply shook his head and closed the door behind him, muttering something like "This girl actually has to work here, but whatever" leaving you alone with Johnny.

"You look hot, as always," he said trying to smile, yet the smile didn't reach his sad eyes. He almost looked like he's been crying.

"And you look like shit."

"You mean that?" he gestured at his face noticing your gaze upon his massive black eye. You nodded.

"That's nothing."

"What happened, Johnny?" you asked but he did not answer and just kept on sitting in silence, sipping his drink from time to time. Then, after what seemed like forever, he finally looked you straight in the eyes.

"I fucked up, (Y/N), that's what happened, I fucked up big time."

"Tell me!"

"As if you give two shits about it, you probably wouldn't care. You fucking despise me and my sorry ass."

"I do care!"

“Nah, you wouldn’t!”

You sprung off your seat, you did not expect that coming out of his mouth, also it hurt to hear him say that, because you really did care about him! You probably cared about him more than anything in your life at the moment. But if he was going to be a bitch to you so were you.

“Well, don’t waste my fucking time then!” you exclaimed “And stop annoying everyone that you need to see talk to me instead of fucking off. I can gladly leave you all by yourself so you can keep on pitying yourself. Nice seeing you, jerk!”

And you were about to storm off, go back to pretending to work just like you did every other day when there was nothing else to do, when you instantly heard a “(Y/N), wait!”

You turned around and saw Johnny, now more miserable than ever, showing at your seat inviting you to sit back down. You swallowed your pride and did so.

“I’m sorry,” he said “I just can’t believe that someone would actually give a shit about me at all. And I did want to talk to you, I still do. You’re the only one I want to see right now.” “Then tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s this kid,” he started sighed and stopped, then took another sip of his whisky and began again “I have a dojo in a strip mall, I’m a sensei,” “What’s that?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and you felt stupid. Johnny looked at you, completely staggered, forgetting his pain for a moment. Proving you that it was in fact a probably very stupid question.

“It’s a Karate place, I teach Karate there.”

“Go on.”

“I have a shit ton of nerds that I teach but they’re mostly good kids, they got bullied a lot before, but I helped them, I showed them how to kick ass, so no one dares to fuck with them anymore. There’s this one kid, Miguel, I’ve been teaching him since the beginning, he actually gave me the idea to open a dojo, he begged me to and he’s a great kid, he really grew on me. He lives next door with his mom and grandma, they’re great people, Mexicans. I even learned a bit of Spanish from them. And I’ve been hanging out a lot with him lately. I really, really liked him.”

He rubbed his eyes and stopped talking.

“What do you mean you liked him?” you asked carefully and studied Johnny’s face that he covered with his hands again.

“There’s more to the story. There’s another dojo in town, fucking Miyagi-Do. Of course, you can’t expect only one dojo to be there in L.A but how I wish that at least that one wouldn’t exist. The sensei is a twat. I fucking hate this guy. And his kids started fighting with my kids at school and not like throwing some punches at each other and leaving it be after somebody starts crying. No, they started a fucking Karate War at school. I mean, I get it, when I was their age I also took Karate way too seriously but letting it go this far? I don’t know, I can’t really understand that. It got out of hand real quick two weeks ago.”

“Fuck, did something bad happen?” you wondered and poured yourself and Johnny another whisky.

He nodded and stared into the distance. You waited for him to answer.

“There was a fight two weeks ago and apparently it got really bad. Miguel got kicked off a balcony at school, he fell two stories deep, spine-first onto a handrail.” You gasped. You school also had problems with fighting, a lot to be precise but as far as you knew, no one got kicked off from somewhere.

“He’s been in a coma now for two weeks and they say that the chances of waking up from a coma after two weeks are pretty miserable. He might as well be dead by now.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” you said although not knowing shit about coma, you just wanted t comfort Johnny. You could not stand seeing him so broken you even wished he would go back to his old nature again, hitting on you, joking and just having a good time “He’s probably going to wake up soon and go back to Karate again.”  

“You don’t know that!” Johnny said raising his voice, “He broke his fucking spine, (Y/N), even if he wakes up, he’s probably going to be crippled for his whole life.”

He took a deep breath and drank his whisky at once, grunting at the burning feeling in his throat.

“And now my own kid is in fucking juvie for kicking Miguel of a railing and he won’t even talk to me!”

“Wait, you have a kid?” you wondered and stared at Johnny wide-eyed, not knowing what else to say, this was surely a surprise for you. And Johnny went on with his rant.

“Yeah, Robby, he’s 17. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s locked up, doesn’t want to hear a word from me, but that’s okay,” his voice was cynical, you could hear how much despised himself right in the moment and it was painful to see.

“I’ve been a shit father anyways, right? Every single day of his life I’ve been failing him. I wasn’t around much. I did nothing to keep him out of trouble. If so, I only made it worse, I only pushed him to train with Miyagi-Do and what happened to Miguel is all on me.” Despite calming himself down with a drink, Johnny’s voice got louder with every word he spoke. Again, heads were turning towards you, but you didn’t care.

“It’s not your fault what happened,” you said calmly and placed a hand on his shoulder, he was so tensed that you might as well have been touching a stone. And Johnny shook your hand of and let out a hateful laugh.

“Not my fault?” he shouted his lungs out “Who else’s fault is it then? Of course, it is mine. It is all on me, I fucked up. I fucked up both Robby’s and Miguel’s lives and on top of that mine’s not that great either. I spent the night in a fucking cell.”

“Calm down, Johnny,” you said softly and finally went in for a hug “It’s going to be okay; I promise!”

“No, it’s not!” he yelled as you wrapped your arms around him tightly pressing yourself against his trembling chest. At first, he let his arms sink and didn’t do anything, he kept on shouting, making even more heads turn towards all the noise, but then suddenly he buried his scrubby face into crook of your neck and sighed, finally placing his hands on your back, finally relaxing, firmly embracing you. You could’ve stayed like that for ever.

“C’mon, (Y/N), get him out of here!”, you suddenly heard Kenny who stood there, arms crossed, watching you, “He’s scaring off the people.”

You released Johnny from your hold who went back to staring down the counter whilst burying his face in his rough hands, just the way you have found him.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll bring him home.”

“Yeah, sure, feel free to come back to work whenever you’re ready, no rush. Or maybe you want to do home office instead?” said Kenny sarcastically and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Kenny, I can’t let him go home like this alone, he’ll kill himself on the way. Besides, he’s probably the reason this place still hasn’t gone bankrupt. And I’m the reason he keeps coming, so maybe we owe him that?”

The big biker in front of you didn’t look too happy but he knew you were right, still, he wasn’t that easy to convince.

“Come on,” you said putting on your best puppy eyes, trying to look all cute because you knew the old man liked you deep inside “I’ll do double shift tomorrow, I promise. But just please let me go.”

Kenny stood motionless.

“Please?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll cover for you. But if you don’t come in early tomorrow…” “I know, I know, you’ll fire me” you finished his sentence and smiled at him.

Then you nudged Johnny who was not getting any of the conversation you just had and told him about your plan about getting him home. He stood up and he clearly wasn’t very strong on his feet. He was swaying from side to side on the way out.

“Okay, give me your keys, Johnny,” you said when you arrived at his black dodge. Normally you would have made fun of the yellow stripes and snakes all over, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I think I remember you telling me that you don’t have a license anymore and that you’re not willing to get involved into DUIs anymore.” And yet he submissively handed you over his car keys. You shrugged and got in the car, waiting for him to take the shotgun seat.

“I guess we all have to make exceptions sometimes. Now concentrate and lead me the way.”

“Thank you” Johnny said, his voice now all raspy and he suddenly looked tired “Now you are saving my ass.”

**************************************************************************************

PART 4

Already working on part 4 whether you like it or not, I’m too invested in that one

Sorry to all waiting for their requests to be written, I’ll soon be on it

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lililolli​ (you want to be on the taglist, too? drop me a message)

[bellafarella]

angst 17 and/or fluff 13 and/or misc 1

choices 😉

Thanks for sending me these!! I wrote for all 3; the angst one is a fic on it’s own, and the fluff & misc are in a fic together. 

The sentences came from this post 

You can also read both of these here: angst & fluff/misc

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Put your arms around me

Angst #17: “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

Ian and Mickey have been taking care of Franny for the past three months. Debbie took off with her loser, new girlfriend and she promises she’ll be back in another two months. She was going to take Franny with her but Mickey offered to let them watch her. Franny got all excited, begging her mom to let her stay with her favorite uncles. Debbie relented and took off the next day. Ian and Mickey have a second bedroom in their new apartment that they were going to convert into a guest room anyway so this became Franny’s room until Debbie comes back for her child. 

Ian picks Franny up from school, meeting her in front. She rips her mask off as she runs over to him, hugging his legs. “Hey Fran,” he greets her, tapping her back.

“Hi,” she says in her tiny voice. “No uncle Mickey?” she asks when she lets go, looking up at him and shrugging her shoulders. 

“Not today, he had something to do,” Ian tells her. “We’ll meet him back at home later.”

“Okay,” she says simply. She takes his hand when he offers it to her and the two walk off school grounds. He asks her how school was as they make their way to the ambulance parked down the street. Ian has Franny ride in the back, strapped in so that she stays safe as he drives them back home. 

They get inside the apartment, Ian locking the door behind them as Franny runs in. “Go wash your hands, Fran,” he yells after her.

“I know!” she yells back in her little voice. 

Ian walks to the kitchen sink to wash his own hands. As he dries them off, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s from a private number so he picks up just in case, “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Ian Gallagher?” the person on the other end asks.

“Um, yes, who is this?” he asks, making his way back to the living room where Franny is now dumping her stuff from her school bag on the coffee table.

“I’m calling from South Shore Hospital. We have a Mikhailo Milkovich that was brought in today and -”

“What happened? Is Mickey okay? I’m his husband,” he says in a panic, realizing they must know he’s his husband since they called him.

“Yes, sir. Mikhailo was in an accident, he’s okay, but he’s asked us to call you,” the person tells him. 

“I’m on my way now,” he tells him before the person tells him where exactly he is and then he hangs up. “C’mon Franny, we gotta go get uncle Mickey.”

“Can I bring a toy?” Franny asks.

“Just one,” Ian tells her. 

Franny grabs one of her toys quickly from her room before the two are back out the door and in the ambulance. Ian doesn’t park too close, seeing as this is still a stolen ambulance, and the two walk the rest of the way to the hospital.

Ian finds the nurse’s station of who he spoke to on the phone before she leads him to Mickey’s room. Franny’s holding Ian’s hand as they make their way inside and see Mickey laying on the hospital bed with his leg in a cast. 

“Oh my God, Mick,” Ian says, tears threatening to fall already.

Franny lets go of Ian’s hand to run to Mickey’s side, she looks at him and he says, “Hey, kid.”

“Are you okay, uncle Mickey?” she asks so softly he barely hears it.

“I’m okay,” he tells her but he looks up at Ian, nodding his head softly, reassuringly.

Ian joins them closer to Mickey and leans down, kissing him softly on the lips. He pulls back and asks, “What the hell happened?”

“Some jackass wasn’t looking and hit me with his fuckin’ car,” Mickey tells him. “Fractured my leg. They said I’ll be in this cast for like six to eight weeks.”

Ian looks down at his leg in the cast and how this could have been so much worse. A fractured leg is nothing but had this car hit him harder or at a different angle and - 

Ian starts tearing up and Mickey says, “Hey, Ian, I’m okay,” his hand grabbing his where it’s resting on the bed beside him.

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart,” Ian tells him, letting the tears slip down his cheeks.

“Come here,” Mickey mumbles, pulling him closer. Ian leans down and Mickey wraps his arms around Ian awkwardly seeing as he’s sitting up in bed and Ian’s crouching down.

Ian shoves his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck and lets the tears fall, breathing in his scent, and praying to whatever God there is that his husband is okay and here in his arms.

Ian feels Franny hugging his legs so he pulls back and lifts her up. Mickey pats the bed next to him, away from his broken leg, and Ian puts her down next to him. Ian sits in the chair, pulling it right up beside the bed and waits. The doctor comes in not much longer to explain to them both what Mickey can and cannot do for the first couple of weeks and how recovery will go, before they are free to go. 

Ian wheels Mickey out of the hospital in a wheelchair with Franny walking closely beside him. He brings Mickey all the way to their stolen ambulance in the wheelchair, helps him into the vehicle and tells them both to wait there before rushing back to return the wheelchair and running back to get them all home. 

That night while they’re lying in bed, Ian sleeping on the other side of his fractured leg, he snuggles close, resting his head on his chest. “I felt like my heart was going to drop out of my ass when I got a call from the hospital saying you were in an accident,” Ian whispers.

Mickey’s arm is wrapped around him and he’s soothingly running his fingers up and down Ian’s arm. “I’m okay,” he says softly. 

“It could have been so much worse though, Mick…”

“It wasn’t though. I’m right here,” Mickey reassures him.

“Uncle Mickey?” they hear from the open doorway. 

“C’mon in, Fran,” Mickey tells her. 

“Be careful of uncle Mickey’s leg,” Ian reminds her. 

Franny slowly climbs onto the bed, Ian moving over so she can get in the middle. She snuggles right up against Mickey like Ian just was and says, “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Mickey tells her, kissing her forehead. 

Ian snuggles up behind her, reaching his arm over so he can hold Mickey’s hand. Mickey squeezes his hand and the three of them fall asleep together, thankful that Mickey’s okay.

/////////////

A teenage crush 

Misc #1: “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” & Fluff #13: “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Ian hates his warehouse job. Well, he doesn’t hate one part about it, which is his very grumpy but very hot supervisor, who on his first day meeting him was told, “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” It immediately made Ian like him. 

Ian hasn’t had a legal job since he worked at the Kash’n’Grab when he was like fourteen. So much has happened in the last ten years. Most of it bad but also some good. He was able to finally get stable after being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder like his mother and he found himself this job. It’s been about six months that he’s working for Amazon and the only good part about coming to work every day is seeing his supervisor. 

Usually people don’t develop massive crushes on their superiors but not Ian. The first day he started and he met Mickey Milkovich, Ian thought his heart would jump out of his chest. He’s never felt this way before. He’s been with plenty of men in his short lifetime but there’s something about Mickey that - mmph. He makes Ian act like a teenager with a crush again. 

Mickey is abrasive. He has crude knuckle tattoos. He has the most fowl, dirty mouth Ian’s ever heard. He has piercing blue eyes and black hair. He’s been at the center of Ian’s dreams for the past six months. 

He has no idea what Mickey’s sexuality is. They don’t hang out. Mickey’s the warehouse supervisor, he’s his boss. They chat here and there but it’s never anything more than pleasantries. Mickey doesn’t do small talk and has told him multiple times to ‘shut the fuck up and get back to work, Gallagher’. But Ian has his suspicions. He’s noticed Mickey’s eyes wandering his body when he comes into work in tight shirts or if his jeans are a little more snug than he normally wears. 

Ian tries to get Mickey to notice him more than just his employee. He wants to spend time with him outside of work. He wants to bend him over and fuck him, give him the best dick he’s ever had. 

Ian snaps out of it, trying to get back to work. He continues going through the box, making sure the products aren’t expired. It’s not the most thrilling job Ian’s ever had but it’s a stable job, a stable paycheck - even if it’s minimum wage - so it’s giving him the security and stability he needs in his life right now. 

“Gallagher,” he hears and knows immediately it’s Mickey. He smiles to himself before turning around to see the shorter man making his way over with his trusty clipboard. He looks so good today. He looks good everyday but today he has on some dark blue jeans and a burgundy crewneck sweater that’s rolled up his forearms.

“Hey, Mick, what’s up?” Ian says, going for nonchalant and not like he was just checking his boss out.

Mickey rolls his eyes slightly like he always does when Ian says Mick. No one else calls him that but he doesn’t tell Ian to stop so he doesn’t, he likes the tiny smile he sometimes gets from him when he calls him that. “When you’re done with those, come see me in my office,” he tells him.

Ian gets a sudden wave of nausea and panic. Mickey must notice because he clicks his tongue and says, “Man, calm down, you’re fine. Just - come see me after, yeah?”

Ian nods, mutters out a, “Yeah,” before Mickey walks away. 

Ian works quickly, wanting this over with so he could see what Mickey wants. He said you’re fine so this can’t be a bad thing, he can’t be getting fired… right?!

Less than an hour later, Ian knocks on Mickey’s open door. He has a tiny office in the corner of the warehouse. It’s not much but it’s his own private space so that must be nice. “Hi,” he says softly when Mickey looks up.

“Come in, shut the door,” Mickey tells him.

Ian nervously steps inside, closing the door behind him before walking over to the chair on the other side of Mickey’s desk and sits down. Mickey says, “So I have a job opportunity for you.”

“What?” Ian asks a little louder than he expected.

Mickey smiles softly before it disappears. “Yeah, man, what did you think I was gonna fire your  ass?”

“Kind of,” Ian tells him honestly, making Mickey laugh.

Mickey clicks his tongue, “I told you you were fine, man.”

“How fine?” Ian tries to flirt.

It fails because Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up and he asks, “What?”

“Nothing, so a job opportunity?”

“Uh, yeah, so I’m leaving and they need a new warehouse supervisor and figured you should do it,” Mickey tells him.

“Wait - what? Where are you going?” 

“Another job opportunity elsewhere for more pay. So, you interested or not? You get a higher salary and benefits.”

“Why me? I’ve only been here six months,” Ian asks confused.

“It won’t be for another couple months or so but - look, you’re a hard worker, you don’t take any shit, you work quickly and efficiently and you’re always on time and never call in sick. I was told to choose a replacement and I chose you,” Mickey explains, shrugging a little right at the end, looking a little nervous.

Ian smiles softly. Hearing Mickey say these things about him - things he’s noticed about him, it makes him feel really good. “Fuck yeah - I - sorry, yes, I’m definitely interested in the job,” Ian stammers.

Mickey smiles at him and nods. “Good so there’s like paperwork and shit you’re gonna need to fill out. Do you have anywhere to be right after your shift or can we do that then?”

“That works,” Ian grins.

Mickey nods again before saying, “Cool, now get the fuck out of my office and get back to work, Gallagher.”

Ian can’t get rid of his grin as he stands and leaves his office. He’s getting a promotion and Mickey won’t be his boss soon so he needs to try and seal the deal soon. Spending some time together after work is exactly what Ian had been hoping for since he started this job.

Ian’s working late tonight, doing some overtime since a few people called out today so by the end of his shift it just seems to be him and Mickey left in the warehouse. He quickly uses the washroom, making sure he doesn’t look too much like shit before heading to Mickey’s office. Just like earlier, the door is open so he knocks on the side lightly and says, “Hey,” before walking in and going to sit across from him.

“Hey, did everyone else fuck off yet?” Mickey asks him.

Ian can’t help but chuckle lightly. “Yeah, just us.”

Mickey hums, eyeing Ian. Ian sees this look, appreciates it, and definitely wants to jump on it but before he can, Mickey looks down at his desk and grabs a stack of papers. “So, this is what you gotta fill out. Mostly stupid information shit we already know and just some other forms mostly for you to keep that shows proof of your increase in salary and the benefits you’ll get. Just need to make sure you sign the copies for us and the rest you keep,” he explains.

Ian takes it from Mickey’s offering and quickly glances through it. “Do you need this back right away?” he looks up to see Mickey watching him.

“Nah, just bring our copies back whenever,” Mickey tells him. He thumbs at his bottom lip gently and Ian just wants to bite it. “Don’t wanna keep you if you got somewhere to be or whatever.”

Ian smirks, “Are you flirting with me?”

Mickey smirks right back and says, “You finally noticed?”

This shocks Ian. “Sorry what?! When did you ever flirt with me before?” he asks.

Mickey rolls his eyes, “Maybe it ain’t obvious or whatever but I’m your boss, man… can’t just straight up tell you I want you to fuck me in my office.”

Ian’s heartbeat speeds up and blood rushes straight to his cock, it twitching in his jeans. “You - I -”

“Just get the fuck on me already,” Mickey says, putting him out of his misery.

Ian stands, pushing his chair back. He walks around the desk in time for Mickey to stand before  he’s grabbing his face in his hands and kissing him hard on the lips. Mickey moans into the kiss, his hands grabbing onto Ian’s waist and pulling him hard against him. Ian brings his right hand down Mickey’s side and to his thigh, lifting it slightly and pushing Mickey up against his desk before he hops up and sits on it, Ian getting in between his legs.

“Wanted this for so long,” Ian tells him as he kisses his way down his jaw and to his neck. 

“Mmm, me too,” Mickey says, running his fingers through Ian’s hair and keeping his head where it is, sucking on his neck.

Ian pulls back slightly, looking into those piercing blue eyes that he’s fantasized about looking back at him just this way. They hear a noise from outside of his office so Ian steps back. Mickey jumps off the desk and makes his way to the door. He looks out and turns back to Ian, “Just the cleaning crew. We should probably -”

“You wanna come over? Um, if you want to like pick up where we left off?” Ian asks hopefully, a small smile on his face.

“You live alone?” Mickey asks, eyebrow cocked.

“Um… no,” Ian says, sadness creeping in that his one shot with Mickey got ruined.

“I do. Grab your shit and let’s go back to my place, Red,” Mickey flirts.

Ian grins, doing exactly what he’s told before the two of  them rush out of there and Ian gets exactly what he’s wanted for the past six months, Mickey Milkovich, more than just his boss.

Send me some sentence prompts 

[bebepac]

Six Sentence Sunday 04.11.2021

ORIGINAL POST DATE: 04/11/21 at 2:55AM EST.

What’s up my fandom friends?  Back at ya with another Six Sentence Sunday.  On a personal note,  I’ve made another big decision in my life. After 12 years of sheer madness and insanity at my current job, I’m putting out my feelers for trying to find another job.

It’s time.  For those of you that really know me personally, work/life balance is something the company I work for has never done well since I’ve been there.  It’s been very few paychecks where I didn’t have mandatory overtime pay on it. Points where I stayed to help the team, because I was a part of it.  I think the last time I can honestly say work/life balance was okay it was in 2015-2017.  I’ve come to realize that what I’ve been settling for is not what I should be.  So if you’re not happy where you are, that’s a temporary situation.  I’m happier just knowing I’m looking to finally fix it, and have a lead on a job because I’m being referred in by a friend.  

In case you’ve missed tags or trying to get caught up on what you’ve missed of me posting here’s what I’ve done in the past 10 days:  

Just The Way You Are:  I Am The Earthquake   (Riley x Liam) 

Mia’s 🌎 World:   Chubby Bunny  (Mia x Jaiden) 

The Life Of Riley:   Masquerade  (Riley x Liam) 

What are you working on?  @dcbbw​ @burnsoslow @sirbeepsalot ​ @sfb123

@ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @jessiembruno​ ??

Country Glitter

Mia’s 🌎 World: Chapter 14

The Book: TRR

Pairing:  Mia x Jaiden  (TRR MC x M!OC)

Status: Still in the writing process:  

Spring Break.  Jaiden was excited. Life couldn’t be more perfect. He was back together with Mia, and everything felt so right.  He had planned to take Mia to Wrightsville Beach for a few days and meet up with Leo, Hana, and the gang.  

The Brooks’ family was a Jeep family.  His dad had a white wrangler.  His mom after the Green Meanie finally died, purchased a hunter green Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo X.  Jaiden had a candy apple red soft top rubicon that was his pride and joy.  It was a high school graduation gift after everything had happened to him, and still managed to graduate third in his class of 1000 students.

One of the things Jaiden took pride in was taking care of his vehicle.  He knew how to do minor work on it, and weekly hand washed Rubi.   Jaiden had just completed putting his first layer of wax on his candy apple red jeep, and it was glistening in the sun.

Jason whistled when he walked out of the house seeing Jaiden’s vehicle sparkling in the sunlight, looking like it was fresh off the store room floor.  

“Why’d you wash Rubi?”

“I have a date with Mia, and tomorrow we’re going to Wrightsville.  Rubi has to look hot for the trip.  I might even take the top off before we leave.”

“I don’t think you want to do that.”  

“Why not?”  

As if foreshadowing the events to come, Jaiden sneezed.  

“Geez, where did that come from?”

“You’ll see,”  Jason chuckled.  “Have fun, and be safe.  

He had taken the soft top off and drove over to Mia’s house.  

If You Lived

Just The Way You Are: Special

The Book:  TRR x Perfect Match

Pairing: Riley x Nico  / Hayden x Kai 

Status: Writing is complete. 

Leo watched Riley feed Liam a few spoonfuls of ice cream.  The way his brother looked at her;  he had fallen in love at the end of his life.  Leo left them alone for a bit.

"You're doing good."

"I can feel them."

"Who?"

"My parents. They are waiting for me."

"You can't talk like that."

"It's true. They're here, and I'm not afraid but…."

"But what?"

"Part of me doesn't want to go. Because of you Riley."

"What do you mean?"

"Can I ask you something and you be honest with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes."

"If I wasn't sick, and you were single, Riley would things be different between us? Would you and I have had a real chance?"

She bit her lip.

"Tell me the truth. You promised."

"Why does it matter? We can't change things Liam."

"Because I need to know."

"Liam…."

"Tell me…"

She took Liam's hand.

"You know the answer."

"I need to hear you say it."

She rested her forehead on his.

She was so close to him he could smell the scent of the coconut shampoo she used in her hair.

"Yes. It would have been different."

Leo watched them from the door. Somehow, Riley had fallen for him too. It just wasn't fair. His brother had always wanted someone special to spend his life with, and he finally found her, but it was too late for them.

And Then...There Were Two

The Meet: Chapter 1

The Book:  TRR

Pairings: None:  

Characters : Liam Rys,   Leo Rys, Riley Brooks,   Jilian Winchester, Bebe Martin,   Jaiden Brooks,   Nico KH

Status: Still in the writing process:

“Good evening ladies. Looks like you are participating in our contest.”  

“Hell yes we are, and we’re going to win it.”

“I hear ya!  It will be a few minutes before your table is ready.”  

The restaurant was really quirky and eclectic.  The music playing and a very urban and uptempo beat.

“I really like the vibe here.”  Jili commented.

A waitress walked by carrying a pink smoking drink.  

“I want one of those.”  Bebe was excited.

They were finally to their table and were able to order drinks.

“I want one of those pink smoky drinks.”

“Each drink in our smoke line has a different flavor profile, which one would you like?”

“Pink alcohol?”

The waitress explained each flavor profile of the smoke cocktails line then looked at Bebe expectantly.

“Yeah….I still want Pink.”

“And I want Green.”  

The restaurant was packed. The waitress came back with their drinks rather quickly, pouring the last element into their drinks causing them to smoke.  Bebe and Jili clinked glasses and took a sip of their cocktails.