#and that other time i spent half a school day with the word 'son' in a specific accent stuck in my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girllblogging777 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐸𝐶𝐻𝑂𝐸𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝐵𝐸𝑇𝑅𝐴𝑌𝐴𝐿

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you find out that mattheo and you are working for different sides in the war, and using each other to get information. was your relationship ever real ?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“and that’s why i love them,” you giggled breathlessly after explaining what seemed to be your entire life story to the boy next to you. propped up on his elbows and looking at you with a mischievous grin, mattheo riddle had listened carefully to every word that hung from your lips for the past half hour. “i understand why those flowers are so meaningful to you now,” he declared softly, glancing at the vase of lilies on your living room table.

the two of you were lying on the floor of your tiny flat in london, a place where you’d never let anyone in before. after graduating from hogwarts a couple of years ago, you had completely shut the rest of the world away to focus on your work as a spy for the order of the phoenix. obviously, no one knew that, not even the boy next to you, with whom you had been entangled for a couple of months.

“yeah, lilies are my favorite…” you muttered, running a finger over his chiseled jaw and the scars on it that you knew all too well. both former students at the wizarding school, it was quite ironic that the two of you had never interacted during your teenage years. you had always been the confident girl who never cared much about the male species, and he most definitely liked getting attention from women, to cope with his lack of them in his emotional life.

however, your relationship with the wicked boy had changed when he saved you a couple of months ago near the diagon alley. you had been on a mission to find something specific for the order of the phoenix at borgin & burkes in the infamous and dark knockturn alley, known for its dark magic and bad reputation. just as you were about to leave, some people cornered you in the shadows and, for the first time in your life, you had been powerless.

you should’ve known better than to leave your wand in your bag and your mind elsewhere. thankfully, a dark-haired boy that you recognized as the son of voldemort had appeared like a miracle and grabbed your hand to leed you away safely. “why are you doing this? aren’t you supposed to be on their side?” you’d asked, confused to why he would help you. he had simply glared at you and answered in a whisper, “i’m not the enemy.”

a lot of things had changed between you since then. despite not knowing what he had been doing in that alley, even after the countless times you’d asked him, you were forever grateful for his presence that day. you had offered to go out for a butterbeer as payback, and what was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into regular coffee or lunches together. slowly but surely, mattheo let his guard down with you and began enjoying your company. you couldn’t say you were surprised when all your time spent together turned into more, and polite conversations turned into intimate actions.

the young riddle and you had nothing official going on. at first, you’d told yourself he’d be a simple distraction from your dangerous life and complicated missions. he wouldn’t commit and neither did you, both of you always having to “run some errands” and “visit friends from hogwarts.” you would’ve questioned his weird behavior if you were actually dating him, but since the two of you were not attached, you couldn’t blame him. after all, you too had secrets. the simple fact that mattheo riddle had known you enough to let you into his messy life was a sign that he was worthy of your trust, or so you thought.

the energy in the air was different today, as if something was off. perhaps it was because you had done something you always forbade yourself—inviting someone over to your place. “is that a cloak?” mattheo chuckled, his gaze shifting from the vase of lilies to the coat hanger. you froze when you realized what he was referring to, the large navy blue fabric that you used when going on undercover tasks hanging in front of you like a deer in the headlights. “uh yeah, i wear it sometimes when it’s cold outside,” you lied through your teeth, internally cursing yourself. merlin, that was exactly why you shouldn’t have had him over. the brunette boy didn’t quite understand your reaction and simply switched topics, curious about the expression on your face.

✩✩✩✩

whatever calmness you had felt the other day when you were with mattheo was long forgotten by now, you thought as you walked back to your apartment a week later. the first odd thing you noticed was the broken portal of the building that not only happened to be your home, but also the order’s headquarters. then, your ears perked at the sound of glass breaking and people screaming. grabbing your wand from your coat pocket, you put the hood of your navy cloak on and entered the hidden building, not without muttering a quick prayer.

nothing could’ve prepared you for what you found inside. you barely registered the documents on the floor and broken windows before going into attack mode and throwing spells at everyone around. most of the people you recognized as your allies, but it was the others that startled you. with their masks and dark attires, your biggest fear had come true: the death eaters had found you. one of them threw something at you and you dodged it by hiding under a desk. your brain was on high alert and you tried your best to fight back against the shadowy figures surrounding you.

they were everywhere. throwing spells and punches, this situation was by far the biggest and most dangerous mess you had ever witnessed in these last few months. because unlike those times, you weren’t ready. “how did they find us?” you thought, sending the death eater’s wand flying through the window. “there must’ve been a spy, but who?” you kept wondering before you were sent reeling when the guy’s fist connected to your jaw. elbowing him in the stomach as hard as you could, you managed to knock him unconscious and throw yourself behind the table when a spell whizzed past you.

you winced when the all-too-familiar metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. you could also feel the thick liquid running down your waist, mixed with the water from the broken vase of flowers on the floor. “lilies,” you registered, “my favorite.” how utterly stupid to think about this during your last moments of life. trying to reach for your wand, you looked up to find another masked man towering over you. “that’s it,” the voice in your heart whispered, “that’s how it ends.” you looked up to the person who was about to take your life, and you swore you could’ve seen him flinch. hiding behind his costume, the boy’s wand trembled when your face appeared from under the hood. the navy cloak, the lilies, that day in the diagon alley— that’s when you understood.

mattheo riddle. the man facing you, holding out his wand in order to throw the death curse at you, was no other than the boy who you’d been kissing in the same living room a week ago. you couldn’t see his face, but you swore you could recognize those deep chocolate eyes anywhere. today, gone was the soft and loving look he always saved for you. his gaze was indescribable. in this moment, you couldn’t hear the people fighting and shouting around you. it was just the pain of your heart breaking, and him standing in front of you.

“it was you,” you whispered, “i thought you weren’t like them, you said you weren’t the enemy.” mattheo’s breath came out shakily at the familiar sentence. how stupid were you to think he was different that him, than his father.

“i’m not the enemy,” he said quietly, his voice trembling, “listen, i can explain-“ but this time you couldn’t believe him. the wand in his hand was still pointed directly at you, his fingers twitching as if he were wrestling with the decision to end your life or not. you could see the conflict raging in his eyes, but you also knew that he had made his choice long ago. perhaps even before he met you.

“then why are you here?” you asked, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay strong. “why did you betray us?” your voice broke in the last part “why did you betray me ?”

mattheo’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. when he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with regret. “i didn’t have a choice,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “they would have killed you if i didn’t lead them here. they still will if i don’t—”

he couldn’t finish the sentence, the words catching in his throat. you felt your heart shatter completely, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on you like a physical force. you had trusted him. you had let him into your life, into your heart, and he had used that trust to destroy everything.

“was it ever real ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of the boy you thought you knew. but all you saw was desperation and fear—fear for you, yes, but also fear for himself. and that, more than anything, told you what you needed to know.

“i guess i was a fool then,” you said, your voice steady now, though your heart was in pieces. “for thinking you were better than this. than him.”

his hand trembled as you proved his worst nightmare true, and he lowered his wand slightly, the fight draining out of him. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, and you knew he meant it. but it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough.

as the fight kept on going, the echoes of spells and shouts fading behind you, all you could think about were the lilies—your favorite flowers, now trampled and wilted on the floor, a painful reminder of everything you had just lost.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : this was such a good request, please give me more !!! i also appreciate likes/comments and reblogs <3

tag list (tell me if you wanna be added !) : @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @fluffycookies22 @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @mattheosdior @tateshifts @yikesitslush @bellatrix-lestrange5 @fbvreadingblog @justscrollinthrough @enyway @dexoq @larmesdevanille @larmesdevanille @reys-letters @icantkeepmyplantsalive @myunperfektstorys @moonlightreader649 @sp7-mr @clar2aa

410 notes · View notes

thatnewweeb · 4 months ago

Text

Arranged | Todoroki Shoto

Summary | Endeavor and your father both always wanted to be higher in the hero rankings. In case you and Shoto do not achieve those goals, they decided you should enter a Quirk marriage to create an even better Quirk combination. However, you and Shoto didn't want to give into those demands. So how did you end up falling in love?

Content | Smut, fluffy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, aged up Shoto (third year, 18), discussion of marriage, alluded abuse of both Shoto and reader

Word Count | 2.4k+

A/N | I've had this idea for a while, this wasn't the original direction I had in mind, but this is how it went as I wrote. I'm trying to get better at writing smut! At the time of posting, I wrote this forever ago

Your Quirk developed when you were 4 and a half years old. Since that day, your life changed, and not for the better. Since that day, you've been training. You've been training hard.

Almost the moment that your Quirk finally developed, your father had made an agreement with the number two hero. His boy had already developed his Quirk, and your father had been waiting for yours to finally appear.

Later that year, you met Endeavor's youngest son, the boy you were told you would later marry, provided everything followed the plan created by your fathers.

The next time you saw him, roughly six months later, he had gained a large facial scar on his left side, although you did not ask about it.

Throughout the next ten years, you saw the boy multiple times, training together on occasion. You had to learn how best to use your Quirks in cooperation with each other, as well as separately. That was somewhat difficult, considering Shoto's refusal to use his fire.

Despite also having a deep hatred of your father, you never refused to use his half of the Quirk you inherited.

Your Quirk is called Cryo-Phasing, giving you the ability to pass through objects, simultaneously freezing them. Your phasing Quirk works a little differently than Mirio's, being unable to pass through the floor.

Your father and Endeavor believed that combining your Quirks in a Quirk marriage could lead to a stronger version of the Ice Quirk, as well as possibly adding Phasing to the mix of Quirks, thus creating an even more powerful child.

It seemed like some things never changed.

At age 15, you were accepted in UA through recommendations, being placed into Class 1-A, the same class as Shoto.

At the beginning of the year, it was unusual for the two of you to speak much, to each other or really to anyone else. You would spend time together, sure, but that was almost purely because you somewhat knew each other already. The only real interactions you had were sitting together during lunch breaks, and training together during class.

You both excelled in academics, combat and Quirk use. Of course, you had both been training for this your entire lives, training with some of the top heroes in Japan, so that was to be expected.

It wasn't until Midoriya helped Shoto to start coming out of his shell that you two started to actually get to know each other. He started to sit with Midoriya and his friends, but he didn't want you to become lonely, so he invited you to join them. Although you were quiet and difficult to get to know, he did hold some level of affection for you already. He figured that you were in a similar position to him, and that you would be able to relate to him and his issues.

During that time, Midoriya and his friends continued to help Shoto come out of his shell and open up to people, and also helped you to begin opening up too.

In particular, you and Shoto opened up to each other a lot.

Once UA implemented the dorm system, you and Shoto spent a lot of time together outside of school hours. It seemed to everyone that you were always together, whether that was in the common areas or one of your bedrooms.

Everyone was convinced that you both had crushes on each other, both being asked many times why you were not dating. Both of you claimed you were only friends.

Neither of you truly knew what it was you felt for each other, both being somewhat emotionally stunted from your upbringings, but you both knew it was something different from what you felt for your other friends. You both wanted to deny these feelings. After all, neither of you wanted to give in to what your fathers wanted for you.

During your second year, you kissed for the first time. Everyone had thrown a birthday party for Shoto, and as everything was winding down and coming to an end, he had snuck away with you and took you to the balcony in his room, claiming he wanted some fresh air.

Once outside, he turned to you and informed you of a conversation he had with his father a few days prior. He had spoken to your father about breaking the marriage arrangement. Your father had been against it, but Endeavor insisted that Shoto is now free to make his own choices. Part of his atonement for his previous actions.

Your father was continuing to try convince Endeavor to change his mind, which is why you hadn't been informed.

He explained that he was still hesitant to give into what his father wanted, even if he had been let free from being basically forced to do them now.

You understood his feelings, of course you did, you'd been struggling with the same thoughts about this as him.

"Well, for now, while we figure everything out, how about we just try this?" you ask him, taking both his hands and stepping closer, leaning up.

He realised what you were doing and leaned down a little, your lips pressing together for the first time. When you went to pull away, his hands let go of yours, moving quickly to wrap around you, keeping you close to him, not letting you move away, or break the kiss.

You don't try fight him on it, arms moving to wrap around his neck as your lips move against his.

Once you finally do break the kiss, he moves one hand up to rest gently on the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder, allowing him to keep you close.

Just a moment later, you were interrupted by a small squeak from inside the bedroom. Shouto apparently hadn't locked the door, and someone had realised the birthday boy was no longer present at his own party, so a few friends had come looking for him. The squeak came from Uraraka, who quickly ran out of the room, being closely trailed by a slightly red Midoriya.

The two of you looked at each other and smiled softly. "I suppose we may have to answer some questions."

He nodded in response to your statement, leaving to re-join the party.

Ashido and Hagakure of course asked if you were dating now, which you both denied. For now, it was simply a kiss.

"Are you going to Endeavor's agency once school is over?" You ask, laying with your bed hanging off the bed, looking at your best friend.

He gives a small nod. "I believe it will be the best place for me to start off." He says before talking a small, sharp breath. "Can we talk about something?"

You raise your eyebrows a little and sit up, patting the bed next to you, where he takes a seat. "Of course, what is it?"

"We're almost finished with UA, and I thought it may be time to finally discuss our relationship, before we leave school."

You take a small breath in this time, feeling a little nervous about what he is about to say. Your crush on the boy had never disappeared, but you never brought up your relationship again, not wanting him to feel pressured into making a choice he wasn't ready to make.

His hands find their way to grip yours gently, keeping eye contact with you. "I would like to go into this new part of our lives together. I am still a little hesitant for us to do what our father want from us, but it's what I want too, and I hope it is what you also want."

You bite your lip, letting go of his hands and throwing your arms around him. "Shoto, I would love that. I have wanted that for years."

He nods silently, one arm wrapping around your back, the other digging into his pocket. A moment later, he pulls a small, cute box out, pulling away from you a little so he can look you in the eyes as he hands the box to you.

"I've had this since I was 15. My father insisted I should give it to you, but I never did. I want you to have it," he says.

Inside is a small ring, with a delicate diamond, dainty and tasteful rather than being large and distracting. You bring your eyes back up to look at his, surprised.

"That ring is simply proof of my love for you. We should take things at my own pace. I'll buy you a ring myself one day. That will be when I really propose."

You smile, once again throwing your arms around him, this time putting your weight behind it to catch him off guard and knock him over.

Before he has a chance to say anything, you plant your lips firmly on his, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek, the other resting on his chest, legs holding you up as his hands immediately find your waist, giving into the kiss without any hesitation.

His fingers grip you tightly, breathing already beginning to get a little heavier. Although he has no experience, it seems as though he knows what to do, at least a little, moving his leg to press between your own.

One hand stays on your waist, the other moving to wrap around your back, holding you close to him and allowing him to press him leg up more, bouncing it softly.

His movements cause a soft moan to escape your lips, muffled by his own.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers breathlessly before connecting his lips to yours once again, seemingly wanting to have all contact he possibly can with you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip, probing into your mouth, wanting to explore you as much as possible.

Breathlessly, you pull away from the kiss, looking down at him. His heterochromatic eyes stare back up at you, lids low with lust.

You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head, discarding it to a forgotten corner of the room. His hands quickly find their way back to your waist, biting his lip as he admires you. His staring makes you blush, but you know he's just taking it in.

His hands come up higher and carefully, yet slightly clumsily, undo your bra, slipping it off your body, throwing it in the same general direction as your shirt, quickly moving one hand to your left breast, sitting up and leaning his head to take your right nipple into his mouth.

You bite your lip, moaning softly. Your arm wraps around him, one hand coming up to play with his hair. You give it a gentle tug, making him groan softly.

Carefully, he moves so that you're underneath him, mouth not leaving your breast until your back is pressed against the bed.

Your hands find your way under his shirt, resting on his abdomen, prompting him to discard his too.

He leans down to kiss you once again, hands moving down to undo the shorts you're wearing, shuffling them down your thighs along with your panties. His long fingers drag slowly down your slit.

"You're so wet for me already, baby," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers continue to tease you, dipping slightly into you, but never quite giving you what you want, enjoying your moans as they get increasingly desperate.

You only want more and more as you feel his clothed cock pressing against your thigh.

“Shoto, please,” you whimper, needing more than what he’s giving you.

He chuckles softly. “Because you asked so nicely,” he whispers, slipping two fingers inside you, moving them slowly.

You moan softly, eyes closing and head leaning back. His movements speed up, fingers quickly finding your sweet spot. His thumb moves to your clit, your moans growing louder.

“S-Shoto, so good, so close,” you moan, looking up at him, orgasm building inside you.

Shoto kisses you, tongue finding it’s way into your mouth immediately, swallowing your moans as you get closer and closer to your release.

Then, right before you get there, his fingers suddenly withdraw. Your eyes shoot open and you look up at him, breathless and confused.

He laughs softly. “You look so pretty like that, baby,” He kisses your forehead, unable to resist at the sight of your bemused pout. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you unsatisfied.”

He quickly takes off his pants, his cock straining against his boxers to get out. When he finally lets it free, your mouth falls open slightly at how big he is. You’d expected him to be big, but not that big.

His hand runs up and down his cock a few times, spreading the juices on his fingers onto his cock before pressing up against your hole, which is already missing the fullness of his fingers.

“You ready, beautiful?” he asks you. You nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth.

He slowly pushes his cock into you, taking in a deep breath. “Been waiting so long for this, baby,” he whispers in your ear before moving to kiss your neck.

Your moans sound so sweet in his ear, moving slowly to give you time to adjust to the new stretch. He stills for a moment when he bottoms out inside you, stopping to kiss you.

“Are you ready, beautiful?” he asks you softly. He waits for your confirmation before moving, pulling out a little before thrusting back inside.

He pulls out a little further each time, cock seemingly perfect for finding that sweet spot inside you, as if your bodies are made perfectly for each other.

"You look so pretty for me, baby," he whispers, eyes staying on you, wanting to see your reactions to his movements, enjoying the look of bliss on your face.

You moan each time he thrusts inside you. "Your cock feels so good, baby," you whisper breathlessly.

His fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing gently to begin with, rubbing a little harder as he continues.

"I'm getting close, baby," he whispers, breath heavy and small beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod to tell him you are too, moans interrupting your speech when you try to vocalise it.

He rubs harder, moaning as he feels your pussy tighten around him, getting him closer to his own orgasm as you reach your own climax.

Right before he reaches his own high, he pulls out, finishing on your abdomen and thighs.

For a minute, he stays where he is, both breathing heavily and just enjoying the moment.

When he does finally get up, he goes and grabs a warm cloth, cleaning you up, neither of you saying anything.

He climbs onto the bed and lays next to you, wrapping his arm around you. "This was worth the wait," he whispers to you, making you laugh softly.

"I agree."

727 notes · View notes

solar-wing · 1 year ago

Text

⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

519 notes · View notes

somedaylazysomeday · 10 months ago

Text

Noisy - Part Four

Despite your agreements, Viktor is being very loud... Again. You go to confront him about it.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5,500

Warnings: Frustration, concern, hints of growing intimacy, unprotected sex, creampie, feelings

Previous | Masterlist

---

You couldn’t sleep.

You turned to your side, away from the window. Maybe the faint glow from behind the curtains was what had kept you awake. Or maybe all the thoughts crowding your mind were on that side of the pillow, sneaking in through your ear until they could snarl and snap inside of your brain.

Another sleepless night was not what you needed.

A moment later, you amended the thought. If there was going to be one night you couldn’t really rest, this wasn’t the worst night for it to happen. You didn’t have anywhere to be the next day and no real plans. You could sleep as late as you needed to recover what you were losing to your racing thoughts.

With that realization, you gave in and let your mind whir rapidly as it performed a variety of calculations it apparently thought were necessary.

The first - and accordingly most concerning - thought was about your impending departure from the Piltover Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation.

You had been a student at the Academy for almost a decade. Your undergraduate work had been completed on time. Graduate work had slowed you down slightly as you started taking more advanced courses that required more field work. And your doctoral program seemed to have stretched on for an eternity. That was mostly because the Academy’s work-study program had left you attending courses only half of your time.

Even then, your main focus for the last semester had been on writing your dissertation.

From everything you had learned about other schools, Piltover’s Academy was unique in the way dissertations were presented, especially in practical fields. Instead of a simple essay, Academy dissertations were written as a proposal. You were to identify a problem, hypothesize about causes and solutions, and create a plan to help alleviate the problem or treat those suffering from it.

When you were finished with your dissertation, you would submit it to your mentor, Professor Ukkud. Once she went through it with you and you completed any final changes, she would present it to the Council of Piltover. They would read it, discuss your proposed solutions, then give you a chance to answer their questions and defend your intended methodology.

If you successfully defended your dissertation, you would gain a doctorate. You would also be approved a specified amount of Piltover’s money to put your proposal into action, backed by the Council. Doctors whose experiments and solutions helped people were often offered jobs in the government itself, working to improve the lives of Piltover citizens.

Your identified problem - the pollution in the Undercity, particularly the fumes found in the Sump sector - was easily proven. The causes were of concern to Piltover. The solutions were simple and relatively cheap. It was, by all accounts, tailor-made for a successful dissertation defense.

Except that you had been advised to start over.

Your meeting with Professor Ukkud that afternoon had been profoundly disappointing. It had been your first meeting with her since you had discussed concepts. The professor had left the Academy for several months as she delivered a beautiful boy. She and her wife had spent much of the following time bonding with their newborn son and, by the time she returned, your dissertation was almost complete.

Which was why it was particularly heartbreaking that you had presented your lovingly-crafted work to Professor Ukkud only for her to sit in uncomfortable silence. She listened to your explanation, but pushed the dissertation back to you unread. When she finally spoke, it was with an expression of sympathy and a delicate sort of tone.

“I understand your passion for this project and I think it would have a positive impact on the Undercity. However, I feel that there is a strong chance the Council will deny you the funds you’ve requested.”

You had been aghast. The Council rarely refused funds, and when they did, it was often because the attached proposal had been subpar. In a few cases, they had denied funds and awarded the defender their degree anyway, but it had happened only twice that you could remember.

It was considered slightly shameful to receive your degree with no accompanying funds. It was a sign that the Council thought there was no situation in which your special knowledge could play an role in improving Piltover.

“But… But this is important research…” you had protested, knowing it wouldn’t matter. “My solution is simple and cost-effective, and no one can argue the impact it would have on the lives of those living in the Undercity. Especially the ones who live in the Sump sector, but it could make a difference for people who live much further away.”

Professor Ukkud shook her head sadly. “I agree, and I believe there is a strong possibility that your proposal would improve lives across the Undercity and even along the border of Upper Piltover where the river is narrow.”

“Then I don’t understand the problem,” you’d said, openly frustrated.

“Simply put: the Council will not divert funds toward a project that will mostly impact the Undercity.”

You had suspected as much as soon as Professor Ukkud suggested you change the topic of your dissertation, but it was startling to hear her say it so directly. Worse, you knew she was right.

You wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, but the prejudices of Upper Piltover ran deep. There was no other explanation for the poor conditions half the city lived in - and perhaps more, since censuses tended not to go well in the Undercity.

And, even worse, you partially understood. The Undercity rebelled against Upper Piltover on a regular basis, and most of those rebellions were violent. Yes, they were rebelling against a lack of representation and the fact that the Council didn’t put any effort toward improving the Undercity, but you could imagine that the proud Piltover people would see helping them as rewarding the very violence they were hoping to stop.

None of those thoughts had left you. Instead, you slumped and stared down at the stack of pages resting on the table. They represented literal months of your life. When you weren’t helping Ukkud in her classroom, you were researching or writing or editing or experimenting, all in the process of crafting the perfect dissertation.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” The question had sounded more defeated than challenging. “I can’t rewrite it. The semester is ending soon.”

“I think your best option is to stay an extra semester,” Professor Ukkud opinioned, looking visibly relieved that you weren’t planning to argue with her about it. “You could try to create a different dissertation, but in the limited time… You would either end up with an inferior proposal or be too exhausted to defend it.”

You hadn’t had anything else to say, by then. What was the point? Instead, you thanked the professor for her guidance and left the classroom. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon sulking and mulling over your options.

The way you saw it, you had two: spend an extra semester at the Academy to create another dissertation and proposal about an issue you weren’t as passionate about, or…

Or present the dissertation you had already prepared.

Professor Ukkud was right, you probably wouldn’t be funded. But you could leave here and go somewhere where you could make a difference. You had taken several grant-writing courses during your time at the Academy. It would be far more difficult to do things on your own. But wouldn’t it be worth it?

You turned onto your back once more, eyeing the ceiling with disgust. Now that you had rehashed everything about the disappointing meeting and rethought about the difficult choice that faced you, you had hoped sleep would come. But you were just as awake as you had been before and you clearly weren’t going to make any important decisions that night.

Sliiiiiide. Scrape. Scrape! BOOM.

Your initial jolt turned into you sitting bolt upright in bed as a tremendous noise came from the apartment above yours. You looked up at the ceiling, like you could see through it if you stared hard enough.

When that didn't work, you started to lay back down, but paused. Viktor knew you didn't need to be awake early the next day and had no specific reason to stay quiet, but this was excessive even for him.

Immediately, your mind started jumping to negative conclusions. What if Viktor had tripped? What if his cane had caught on something, leaving him tumbling to the floor? If had fallen badly enough to hurt himself, how would he call for help? Would anyone notice until the weekend ended?

The last thing you wanted was to imply that he couldn't take care of himself, but it would be good to check on Viktor, right? He couldn't be offended if you were making sure he wasn't hurt. And if he was, you could always pretend you were upset with him for making so much noise. He didn't know you had already been awake…

You pulled on a sweatshirt over your pajamas and started the trek upstairs. You had been casually sleeping with Viktor for months by that point, but you didn't go up to his apartment as often as you had expected.

And who could blame you? Not only did Viktor prefer to keep people away from the experiments that filled his apartment, but he also didn't have a bed. You liked to think you were fairly low-maintenance, but you did prefer not to have sex on the floor. Unless it you were in a particular mood. Or a hurry. Or-

You pulled your thoughts back to your current mission. Viktor could be hurt, and you needed to make sure he wasn’t in pain and waiting to be found.

The first obstacle was that you didn’t have a key to his apartment. It had never been necessary before and you were struck by the strangeness of that for the first time. Your relationship was strictly casual, but it would have made sense for you proximity to lead to more opportunities for hooking up. Including swapping apartment keys.

And so you knocked, your taps on his door were firm with an edge of urgency. Even as you waited for a response, you planned: if you knocked again and there was no answer, you would break down the door. How you would accomplish that, you weren’t really sure. As you eyed the solid wood of the door, you wondered if you might be overestimating your own abilities.

Fortunately, you and your poor shoulder were spared from seeing how you fared against the door when it opened and Viktor’s brown eyes peered out. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, a little nonplussed.

“Of course,” he told you.

“What are you doing up here?”

Viktor looked overly innocent, which was a good as a red flag in the current situation. “Nothing in particular. Why?”

You squinted at him. “Well, I heard a really loud noise a few minutes ago. I thought you might have fallen and knocked yourself out.”

“Do you really think so little of my balance?”

The dry question was met with a hard stare of your own. You had seen him trip over nothing, and if something impacted how his cane landed, he was virtually guaranteed to end up on the ground.

Graciously, you decided not to bring up any of that. Instead, you said, “You’re out of breath. A little odd for someone claiming not to be doing anything in particular. And it’s really dark in there…”

You tried to see around him and into the apartment, but Viktor leaned into your line of sight. “Seriously, did you knock over a lamp or something? It totally dark in there. Wait, not totally… Are those candles? I don’t think you’re allowed to have candles in the dorms.”

Viktor sighed heavily, letting the door swing out from his grip. You took a moment to process his bare feet and rumpled hair before accepting his silent invitation and stepping past him into the apartment. As always, you almost struggled to believe that his apartment shared a layout with yours, since his was decorated so dramatically differently.

His furniture was almost entirely missing, with the exception of a very old and well-worn recliner that he slept in. The rest of the space was taken up with various experiments. They had changed since the last time you had been there, but precise layouts of chemical, biological, and mysterious experiments still spread across every available surface. Each one was accompanied by a notebook containing neatly written notes.

It took a moment for you to check, but you couldn’t see anything around the room that would have caused the amount of noise that had brought you upstairs in the first place. That was good, since it meant that Viktor probably wasn’t hurt and trying to hide it from you.

There was a bare circle on one of Viktor’s countertops, all the experiments carefully swept clear. In the middle of the circle was a cluster of candles, throwing warm light dancing around the room.

“Well, at least you made sure nothing would catch on fire from your illegal candles,” you conceded.

Viktor came to stand beside you. “Well, nothing that I don’t want to be caught.”

Your eyebrows raised without your permission as you gave him a sidelong look. “Are you lighting things on fire in your apartment? Need I remind you that I live downstairs and that the building is ancient? And flammable?”

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring you. “I think they set a mood quite nicely. Don’t you agree?”

“What mood are you trying to set? Angsty serial killer, or are you going for-”

Viktor leaned close, the motion so sudden that you pulled backward. You would have thought it was just a rushed attempt at a kiss, but the way he was looking at you was anything but romantic. His amber eyes were studying your face like you were one of his experiments. You didn’t care for the feeling.

“Is something wrong?” he asked abruptly.

The bluntness of the question threw you off, made you less able to create a believable story. “Not- Not really? Bad day. Then my upstairs neighbor keeps being noisy.”

“Today was your meeting with Professor Ukkud, was it not?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question; Viktor had proven to have a near-eidetic memory when it came to the things you told him. “Did she have many critiques for your dissertation?”

“Something like that,” you admitted.

“Strange,” Viktor mused. “I thought it was rather brilliant.”

Your eyes snapped to his. Viktor was smiling slightly, but he seemed sincere. He had read your dissertation.

When you had asked him to the first time - claiming that you needed another set of eyes on it - he had refused. His explanation was that his ties to the Undercity were too strong, that he wouldn’t be able to look at your proposal with any objectivity. That had seemed like a lie to you, but you hadn’t pushed. A boundary was a boundary, even if he wasn’t giving you the real reason behind it.

“You… you read my dissertation?” you stammered.

“Of course,” he told you. “It’s you. How could I no-? Unh!”

You felt a little guilty about the way that his throat had collided with the top of your shoulder as you pulled him into a hug, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping him with your full strength.

It was only when he stroked a hand down your back, hushing you gently, that you realized you were crying. The entire story spilled from you then. Every detail about Professor Ukkud’s recommendation for rewriting, your crushing disappointment, and the nagging fear that she was right and that to present before the Council would be to set yourself up for failure.

Viktor held you close, making appropriate noises as the stream of words pouring from you finally slowed, then stopped. “Do you want to talk it over? Consider your options?”

“No,” you refused, smiling tearfully at him. “I feel better just telling you about it. But I could really use a distraction. That is, if you don’t mind? I know I’m all gross…”

Viktor’s soft lips halted your apologies and explanations. You still felt as gross as you had claimed to be, but you sank eagerly into the kiss. It wasn’t often that you let Viktor lead - normally, you were too excited for that - but you gladly followed the soothing motions of his mouth against yours.

“We do not have to-” he started when you pulled back to breathe.

“No, but I really, really want to,” you admitted openly.

“In that case…” Viktor stepped away. You immediately felt the loss of his warm body against his, but he was holding a hand out to you. When you took it, he started leading the way to his bedroom.

It took until you were at the doorway to remember why this was a bad idea. You tugged slightly against his grip. “I know I said I want a distraction, but I’d rather not get eaten by one of your plants, Viktor. That’s not exactly what I’m looking for right now.”

“Do not worry,” he assured you, pushing the door open. “I removed them last week.”

“...Why?”

He laughed openly at you. “You’re too young to be so skeptical.”

And then he stepped through the door, pulling you in behind him before you could continue protesting.

To your surprise, Viktor had been telling the truth. The plants that had dominated most of the bedroom the last time you’d been inside were gone, as were the colorful lights that had illuminated them. He had even removed the protective tape from the light switch.

Even without turning on the notoriously harsh overhead lights, you could see Viktor’s bedroom clearly enough for your mouth to fall open. “Is that..?”

“Yes, it is,” Viktor confirmed, smiling more broadly than you had ever seen.

You started forward, but paused. “I’m almost afraid to touch it. Is this a trick? A mirage? An optical illusion?”

Viktor only chuckled at you, gently shaking his head. You moved closer despite yourself, extending a hand until your fingers rested against the soft, sheet-covered surface of a real, tangible bed.

“It’s real,” you reported, awe heavy in your tone.

Viktor rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “I know, I moved it in here today.”

You rounded on him. “Is that what was making all of the noise? You shouldn’t have put it together yourself, Viktor. I would have been happy to help you.”

“I didn’t build the frame myself,” he said dryly. “I know my limits. I had some members of the housing administration bring the pieces and assemble everything for me this afternoon.”

“Then what were you doing that made so much noise?” you asked. “And how did the housing administration not freak out when they saw your collection of experiments? You have to be doing irreparable damage to the interior of this place.”

Viktor looked offended. “I know how to perform an experiment with minimal risk to the environment, myself, and others. And did it not occur to you that I could be trying to surprise you?”

“Honestly, the idea of you moving the plants was surprising enough,” you admitted. “But where are they? Are they okay?”

“They are fine.” You relaxed at the answer. Viktor’s plants may have tried to eat you, but that didn’t mean you wanted to think about them rotting somewhere. “The experiments were a success, so I had the plants moved into the lab for further testing and eventual propagation.”

You nodded, impressed despite yourself. Viktor’s efforts to grow plants using various colors of light had seemed ridiculous and frivolous when you’d first learned about them, but he had eventually told you that there were implications for growing them in the Undercity.

“Now,” Viktor said lowly, taking a step closer to you, “Are discussions about my botanical experiments distraction enough for you?”

You thought about it for a moment, but decided that, no, it wasn’t. “I think I need a distraction that’s a little more… hands-on.”

As you said the last, you grabbed Viktor’s spare hand, placing it on the curve of your hip. The warm weight of it made you tense with anticipation even as Viktor rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.”

“Flatterer,” you accused, leaning in for another kiss. Viktor dropped his feigned grumpiness immediately to seize the offer of your lips. Eagerly, you lost yourself in his embrace.

By the time you remembered that you were a physical being in a physical environment, you had changed positions entirely. You were sitting now, making good use of Viktor’s new bed. He was in front of you, cupping your cheek with a careful reverence that made you feel distinctly melty.

His graceful fingers traced up and down the stretched-out collar of your sweatshirt. “Tell me you are not wearing anything complicated under this.”

You shook your head, grinning. “No, you’re still the king of complicated clothing.”

Viktor gave you surprisingly wicked smile. “I planned ahead.”

And then you watched, fascinated, as he unbuttoned the few buttons on his vest. With it gone, you found that his shirt was held together only by the buttons that would show above and below the vest itself. With three more buttons undone, Viktor was bare from the waist up, and looking very proud of himself for it.

The laugh that burst from you was loud and joyful. That moment of silliness from Viktor had done more to lift your mood than hours of ruminating had. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Flatterer,” he returned. “You are also falling behind in this particular race.”

Your eyebrows shot upward. That was a challenge you had no intention of letting stand. You stripped off your sweatshirt in a single motion and - luckily enough - static friction pulled your sleep shirt off at the same time.

You gave Viktor a triumphant look, then both of you were fumbling to remove your own pants. Viktor had buttons to deal with while you did not, but you were stymied by the shoes you had put on to climb the stairs. He beat you, but only by a margin of seconds. You cut off any intended boasting with a deep kiss. And since you were already there, you straddled his thighs at the same time.

Viktor’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back slightly. “No, I’m going to be on top this time.”

For the first time in a while, you felt a little uncertain. “Is that a good idea? Your leg-”

“-Will be fine,” he told you firmly. “It has improved with all the exercise it has gotten lately. Nothing long-term, but I can do this. Let me do this?”

The soft entreaty, more than anything else he could have said, convinced you. You gave a shallow nod and Viktor set to work. He guided you down to the mattress - and you were privately disappointed that the sheets didn’t have time to smell like him yet - and settled on top of you.

The weight of him was solid between your thighs, even with him bracing a hand against the bed’s surface. You were always mildly surprised at Viktor’s size - his height and narrow build often made him appear far more slender than he truly was.

You did have admit that you liked the position for how close everything was. When you were on top, you often felt further away from him than you wanted to be. But with Viktor taking the lead, his free hand roamed your body as both of your hands did the same to him. He alternated between kissing you and nosing along your skin while you did your best to suck tiny bruises into every stretch of his neck and jaw that you could reach.

After a span that seemed both endless and impossibly short, Viktor pulled away with a groan. “I am uncertain how much longer I can wait to be inside of you.”

Everything between your legs gave an eager pulse, your muscles helpfully lifting the cradle of your hips to press yourself more firmly against him. The length of him slipped easily between your folds, pressing against you.

You gave a stuttered breath at the contact - he wasn’t entering you, but the angle of him left his head brushing firmly against your clit and the sensations were dazzling. Viktor must have been in a similar frame of mind, because he gave another groan. This one was hoarse, verging on desperate, and you throbbed.

“Please,” you asked, lifting your hips once more.

It took a fumbling moment for Viktor to reposition the head of himself against your entrance, but he made up for lost time by sliding home the instant he was in place.

The noise you made was inarticulate and loud, and you were grateful that the only apartment connected to Viktor’s was your own empty one. Viktor was silent, but when you remembered to open your eyes, you found that his had fluttered shut. There was a wrinkle of concentration between his dark brows, but something about their upward tilt gave him a hint of beatific supplication. He looked like he was praying.

He drew in a breath - a long, shaking inhale - and opened those gorgeous eyes.

“You are never anything less than incredible.” His fervent, matter-of-fact delivery was sincere enough that you believed him. It wasn’t enough to remove the soreness of the day from your heart, but it certainly didn’t hurt.

But you were neighbors with benefits, not a couple. This level of emotion seemed taboo, somehow forbidden for two people in a casual relationship. You pushed your response aside, teasing, “Are you talking about me or my pussy?”

“You.”

The only way to hide your response to the affirmation would be to close your eyes, and that was a sacrifice you weren’t willing to make. So instead, you leaned up to give him a kiss, hoping to convey some sense of what he meant to you. You couldn’t be sure what came through, but at least he began moving inside of you.

Viktor felt exquisite inside of you and it was hard to concentration on anything other than the pressure he put on your g-spot every time he moved into or out of you. But in the quiet spaces in his rhythm, you gathered yourself enough to watch him. Not only was watching Viktor one of your great joys in life, you were also searching for any signs that this position was hurting or straining him.

True to his claims, it didn’t seem to be. Viktor’s pace was eager, nothing but intense focus on his face. The noises he made didn’t sound pained, either, and you let yourself relax into enjoying the entire experience.

Your finger traced along the lean muscle of Viktor’s chest, danced across his ticklish ribs, and met briefly behind his back. The feeling of his muscles tightening and releasing as he drove into you and pulled back out was intoxicating. It also made you aware of the way your hips were surging up to meet his thrusts, turning every stroke into a earth-shattering collision.

When your timing matched up with Viktor’s, it felt like he was pushing his way up into your stomach. The depth of it was a little strange, but it didn’t hurt. Far from it, actually. You jerked so hard that Viktor paused.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you told him, adding, “If you stop, I’m going to hurt you.”

He laughed, and the desperate need pulled away long enough for you to see the humor in it. “It feels wonderful, Viktor. Please keep going.”

Viktor took you at your word and started thrusting into you even harder than before, but much faster. The pleasure came roaring back with a vengeance.

In moments, you were clutching at Viktor’s shoulders both to keep yourself from being pushed up the bed and in an effort to keep yourself grounded. This was overwhelming, but in a way that left you ready for more even while you were still experiencing it. This was something addictive, you realized, but you couldn’t even begin to worry about that.

Especially when your body started to tighten around Viktor’s.

“Close.”

Your panted warning made Viktor nod. He dropped his pelvis a fraction of an inch, making his occasional brushes against your clit far more often and intense. Seemingly instantly, that contact pushed you unceremoniously over the edge.

Viktor managed to keep his pace even with your body locking down around him. You shook and panted and gasped - and made some sounds that were far more dramatic - as he worked his way closer to his own orgasm.

When you drifted back down to earth, you were content to watch Viktor work above you. He was close, you could see it in the way his arms trembled, the drop of sweat from his temple tracing down over jutting cheekbones.

“Close,” he hissed, pushing into you so hard that it sent a shockwave through your body.

You smiled at that. You had asked him once why he warned you when you had already come. He had simply shrugged and told you, “It seems the polite thing to do.” It was so perfectly Viktor that you had laughed then. It still made you smile.

Viktor plunged deep inside of you, giving a low and hastily-stifled groan as he came. He was particularly beautiful in the throes of pleasure, you noted. His pale skin was slightly flushed with exertion, lips swollen and red from kissing you. When his head tipped back, you could admire the marks you had scattered across his neck. His eyes were closed, but you could picture the stunning shade of amber they would be when they glowed with pleasure.

When he was finished, Viktor’s arms were shaking badly enough that you were worried, but he managed to lower himself beside you rather than collapsing. You wouldn’t have minded that so much, but Viktor’s limbs were so long and angular that collisions tended to leave you with large, unfun bruises the next day.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked.

You pulled your attention back to the moment. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“You are usually talking by now,” he told you. His eyes were still closed, but a tiny smile played around the fullness of his lips.

With a hum, you said, “Good point. Maybe we should talk about all of this.”

Viktor’s eyes opened at that. He looked wary. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You sat up slightly, wincing at the way his cum started trickling out of you. But you pressed your legs together, ignoring the sensation in favor of counting on your fingers. “The candles, the bed, the mysterious noise with no apparent cause…”

“That is what would make a noise mysterious,” Viktor agreed, an edge of sarcasm in his accented voice.

“Shush. Anyway, I’m working on a theory…” You paused to recheck your work, but arrived at exactly the same conclusion you had come to the first time. “Were you trying to lure me up here for some reason?”

“‘Lure’ is an ugly word.”

“That’s not a real answer,” you informed him. “Were you planning something? Something I derailed by bursting into tears before you could get to it?”

“It wasn’t important,” he told you. “Not by comparison.”

His closer hand was resting against the mattress, between his face and yours. You laced your fingers with his, and he returned your smile. How could you be sad when there was magic like this in the world?

“Will you tell me what it was?” you requested softly. “Please?”

Viktor’s smile turned a little sickly and he swallowed, but nodded. “I wanted to- Well, I still want to… Ask- If you might want something more serious.”

“With you?” you checked.

Now looking distinctly queasy, Viktor nodded again. “With me.”

You beamed, feeling inexplicably close to tears once more. “I would like that a lot, Viktor.”

“You-?” Viktor’s eyes were wide, even as he feigned a casual attitude. “You would. Very well. Then I believe we should enter into a romantic relationship together.”

“I believe the same,” you said, giving him your best grave expression. It wasn’t particularly solemn, not with the way you had been grinning a moment before, but it was enough to make Viktor roll his eyes as he tried not to smile. “When should we begin?”

“In my opinion,” Viktor said carefully, “we already have.”

“Fair point,” you conceded, squeezing his hand as you leaned in for another kiss.

---

Author's Note - As I've said on a few different fics I've posted this year, this is my last Fanfic February! The tolls of writing over 100,000 words to post all in one month is pretty high, especially when I have so many other ongoing projects.

I have some additional ideas for this story and I might continue it when I've caught up on the other works I've been ignoring. For now, I think this is a good pause point.

Thank you for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #arcane #arcane 2021 #arcane netflix #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

223 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

“You sent too much money.”

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting.

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip.

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer.

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…”

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering.

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends.

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company.

Progress.

You’re making progress.

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter.

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity.

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back.

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life.

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back.

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own.

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same.

Just as it does every time.

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them.

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years.

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already.

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter.

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way.

A battle of wills then, you think.

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak.

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him.

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip.

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back.

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat.

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself.

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet.

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it.

You were not.

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t.

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same.

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington.

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight.

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self.

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form.

“Steve is…”

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind.

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close.

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen.

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?”

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office.

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash.

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality.

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening.

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve.

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up.

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?”

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum.

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice.

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point.

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back.

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you.

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear.

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one.

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly.

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows.

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room.

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?”

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen.

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?”

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him.

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction.

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?”

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?”

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm.

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works.

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?”

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s.

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask.

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.”

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals.

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches.

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further.

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!”

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades.

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant.

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t.

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami.

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family.

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath.

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips.

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.”

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks.

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

“I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.”

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do.

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog.

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried.

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together.

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze.

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city.

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you.

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day.

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes.

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town.

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you.

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders.

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within.

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?”

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins.

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away.

But you still hear it.

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.”

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum.

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?”

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans.

But he doesn’t care.

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption.

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin.

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear.

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection.

Affection.

Towards your husband.

New. But maybe not so scary.

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet.

His, too.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible.

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it.

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved.

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought.

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it.

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen.

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach.

“And why might that be?”

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.”

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor.

Perfect.

It’s about as perfect as a day could be.

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be.

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship.

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional.

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table.

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.”

You nod.

It’ll be October.

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying.

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation.

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same.

Two years and nine months.

You’ve got this.

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington modern au #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

427 notes · View notes

chvrrycola · 6 months ago

Text

STRAY KIDS X CLICHE MEETCUTES - LEE FELIX

word count | 0.7k

warnings | none

now playing . . . just go by arlo parks

the other meetcutes

it was only 8:47, and you had already decided that today was not your day. your alarm had decided not to go off, leaving you scrambling to get ready for school in time. you missed your bus, and the next one had also decided to both be super late and jammed full, so you had spent your entire journey trying to keep your face out of the bag of the guy standing in front of you.

you had ended up arriving at school after the gates shut, so you were forced to wait outside until a member of staff noticed you and eventually let you in, at which point you started running to your locker to stash your stuff, hoping you wouldn’t miss any of your first class of the day.

a quick check over the timetable taped to the door of your locker reminded you that this was the most intense day on your schedule, forcing you to heave books, folders and assignments for your first three classes out of your bag. you clutched them to your chest, and sighed heavily as you slammed your locker shut and immediately turned to speed to your class.

though, of course, this too could not go smoothly.

unable to process what was happening in the moment, the next thing you knew was that everything you had just hauled out of your locker was now splayed all over the floor of the corridor. sheets of paper covered the tiles and the sight of your books’ spines bent over themselves made you want to cry.

you dropped to your knees, sniffing and trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of all your bad luck hit you full force.

it hadn’t even occurred to you what you had bumped into, or even that you had bumped into anything. as far as you could tell, this was just another random incident that the universe had decided to stack on top of all the other shitty things you had already had to deal with today.

you only really realised that there was anybody around you at all when a boy knelt down in front of you, apologising for his carelessness as he crawled around the floor trying to help you collect up your things.

he wasn’t someone you knew, or at least you didn’t think you recognised him through your tear-blurred eyes. he smiled when he saw you looking at him, and apologised again, which you fiercely rejected, explaining that it was all your fault and you were just a little all over the place today.

‘oh, i hope you’re alright,’ he said, ‘i can help you carry this stuff to your class if you like, i have a free period right now.’

on any other day you probably wouldn’t have accepted, would’ve insisted it was fine and that you could handle it. but today you jumped on the offer.

‘that would be great actually, if you don’t mind.’

he shook his head and picked up the stack he had collected, following your lead as you began to walk to your classroom. you were still nervous about being last to go into your class, not wanting to attract attention to your already dishevelled appearance, but your nerves began to fade as you spoke to your new friend.

his name was felix, and, much to your embarrassment, he told you you had met once before, very briefly, when your friend had introduced him to you as her partner on a project. he didn’t seem to mind the fact that you had forgotten, but you still cringed at the fact that you had somehow managed to make this first - or rather second - impression even worse.

you didn’t have any classes together though, so it wasn’t too big of a failure on your part, but as you walked him through your schedule for the day you found a few similarities between teachers, including the dreaded mr. son who was taking your class right before break.

felix had even managed to make you laugh by the time you reached your classroom, placing his half of your books atop yours as he wished you good luck for the rest of your day and, as you trudged from class to class, you were thrilled to see him waiting for you, leaning against the wall outside mr. son’s office, having already collected what your friend had advised him was your favourite drink from the shop down the street.

#stray kids #stray kids felix #skz #skz felix #lee felix #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

60 notes · View notes

yongility · 8 months ago

Text

NEO TV # ROCKABYE (taeyong x reader) 2/?.

genre: single dad au, ceo au, fluff, slightly angst, smut.

warnings: adult language, death mentions, idk there's not a lot of warning for this one.

word count: 7k (not proofread!!!)

a/n: if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

When Taeyong was growing up, he always carried with him the memory of the wonderful family he had, a small yet at the same time, great family. He, his mother, and his father didn't need anyone else. They were always the three of them, and it was more than enough. Sure, his family wasn't always conventional, and there were obviously mistakes here and there, but that would never mean that Taeyong wouldn't be grateful for the life and love his parents provided him.

Taeyong was always a starry-eyed boy. Passionate about everything that interested him. As a child, he went through countless phases trying to discover what he wanted for his future... Would he be the same man as his father? Or would he choose another profession? Would he be a stay-at-home dad and dedicate himself to his family?

Like the hyperactive child he was... he never knew for sure, and if there was an exact word to describe Lee Taeyong, it would surely be unpredictable.

Unpredictable because no one had the slightest idea what the boy's next step would be. Unpredictable because Taeyong changed his opinions every half an hour unless he felt one hundred percent sure about what he was doing. That was Lee Taeyong, that's how his family and friends knew him, and that's how he was formed.

Nevertheless, the boy matured at a fast pace. Without necessarily feeling it present, the pressure regarding his father's company position was looming closer and closer, not explicitly, but it wasn't necessary to be so to know what would become of him once he graduated from university. He could always hear what others said about him: 'Oh, Mrs. Lee's son is a true gentleman, surely his parents will be proud of him' ... 'Will he really take over the Lee company? He's nothing more than a spoiled child who always had everything handed to him on a silver platter.'

There were always different opinions and criticisms from different perspectives. Yes, Taeyong knew he wasn't perfect, he was more than aware of it. Taeyong was human, he had made mistakes, stumbled along the way, but he always tried to put one foot forward and rise from every stumble he had encountered.

He wasn't a relationship guy. He was sure of that. Of course, he had had some teenage romances in his high school days. He had been on a few dates during college, and yes, he had had at least one relationship that had lasted at least a year.

Although this last one was more about social pressure than simply enjoying the company of the girl who was his girlfriend at his twenty-three years. He would never blame Joy and would never speak bad about her; in the end, Joy had been someone with whom he had spent part of his growth and accompanied in various moments, which was when they decided to try some kind of relationship between them and for the good of both families according to his mother. The Lee family and the Park family had been partners for a long time, so what better than to bring together both heirs of their heritage to reinforce both businesses? However, that didn't last long. Only a year, Taeyong appreciated Joy and vice versa, but definitely didn't see any future with her. He tried, he really tried. He wanted to do his best, he wanted to do things right, but he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

And with the pressure from his family and Joy's family, nothing could be contracted.

'Taeyong, we are very happy that our daughter and you are making such great progress, we can't wait to see a ring on my daughter's finger.'

'Taeyong, time is passing and you still haven't knelt before her, you know we can't grow old without seeing you at the altar.'

'Taeyong, today Joy and I were at the mall and we saw a spectacular baby clothing store, you're taking too long! How lovely it would be to already have a little one running through the halls of the house!'

Marriage, family, commitment. It was something that Taeyong didn't think about and didn't want to have at his twenty-three years. Sure, someday he would have to settle down and form his legacy, but he wished it would be with someone he truly loved, with someone he could see his future with and grow old together, but could he ever get all that someday?"

_______________________________________________

First Month.

Week one.

For someone with enough money, Taeyong didn't usually keep his apartment constantly in undergoing renovations. Lee Taeyong was a simple man, he preferred the minimalist and the modest. Nothing extravagant, nothing ostentatious. At the end of the day, there were few times he found himself at home, its only use was just for sleeping, if he had the opportunity to do so.

However, as many things had been changing suddenly in the last few days, it was no news that his apartment would be one of the things involved in one of those changes. So his apartment was now filled with piles of boxes here and there and a few cans of paint waiting to be used.

It would be a long process.

"If someone told me that, that when I return from America, I would be assembling a crib for one of my friends' daughters, I definitely wouldn't believe it," Jaehyun said slowly as he read some instructions.

"Hard to believe, but not impossible," commented Doyoung, snatching the paper from his hands and now reading the instructions.

"It's just that I only left for two weeks! And now I'm an uncle! As far as I know, that process takes nine months," exclaimed Jaehyun exasperatedly.

A thump on his head made him stop and he brought his hand to his neck to rub it as he complained slowly and looked at the cause of that attack.

"It was a nine-month process, idiot. It's just that we didn't find out about it until a little over a week ago," Doyoung told him, looking at him disapprovingly.

After that, and quietly giving up on how to build a crib, they left the room where they were and headed to the small baby carrier that was on the couch with a very peaceful Sun Hee inside it, or at least she seemed to be peaceful.

Doyoung and Jaehyun approached her, who either looked at them or made an attempt to do so, with her eyes wide open and babbling sweetly. The heads of both boys tilted as they watched the little one and her actions, almost as if they were examining her and trying to guess what her next move would be.

May the universe take care of the little one with such uncles she has.

"She looks like Taeyong," murmured Jaehyun.

"Well, of course she looks like him, she's his daughter," Doyoung replied obviously.

"She could look like her mom, who knows," the younger shrugged and continued to watch the little one. Who would have thought that one of their friends would be a father?, who would have thought that the very Lee Taeyong, who loved freedom, would become a father? The little one remained calm for a few more moments, until Doyoung and Jaehyun's gaze that was on her may have made her uncomfortable, because without further ado and letting out a whimper, she began to cry; causing both boys to look at each other and panic as they didn't know what to do next.

"Should I pick her up?" Jaehyun asked alarmed. He had never held a baby before. "Sun Hee? Calm down... calm down Sun Hee... don't cry."

"Where's Taeyong?" asked Doyoung, and the baby's crying became even louder. "Taeyong!"

"Sun Hee, please don't cry," murmured Jaehyun as he looked around, then took the remote control and turned on the TV. "Look! Look Sun Hee, the news! That so interesting, isn't it?"

"You idiot, what does she know about the news," snapped an upset Doyoung as he lightly hit his friend's arm.

"How would I know, I've never had a daughter! Where's Taeyong? Taeyong!" they called again for the attention of the father, who was not present, and the little one began to cry more and more. "Sun Hee, don't cry because I'm also going to cry," commented a very sentimental Jaehyun.

To the misfortune of both boys, Taeyong along with Johnny had gone down to the lobby of the building for a couple of things that would be delivered for the apartment renovation.

Who else but the great Lee Taeyong would leave a baby in the care of TWO adult babies? Nobody else but him.

Doyoung quickly grabbed a toy that looked like a rattle and after seeing his friend entering a great state of panic, he began to shake it trying to get the attention of the little one who seemed not to have precisely an off button, and instead of getting distracted and stopping crying with the noise of her toy, she seemed to become more uncomfortable and start crying once again.

Both friends looked at each other again, defeated. A one-week-old baby had more power over them. They would definitely be ready to be parents in about... thirty years.

"You idiots , what have you done to my princess?" Lee Taeyong questioned once inside his apartment, leaving the boxes he was carrying on the floor and approaching his daughter, lifting her in his arms and making her cry cease once she felt the warmth of her father.

"What did we do to her? What did she do to us!" exclaimed Jaehyun, bringing his hands to his face.

"You're so dramatic, Sun Hee is a sunshine," commented Johnny, approaching his friends and stroking the cheeks of the little one in Taeyong's arms. "Aren't you? You're a very pretty sunshine, Sun Hee, I bet when you grow up you'll be so pretty that everyone will be after you," he said in a high-pitched voice while Sun Hee seemed to be very familiar with the voice of her third uncle, who was making a very small attempt at a smile.

"Look at that, it seems like Sunnie already has favoritism towards one of her uncles," Taeyong said, smiling tenderly as he saw his daughter calmer.

"Johnny her favorite uncle? I'm the godfather!" exclaimed Doyoung offended.

"He's the godfather?" Jaehyun and Johnny asked incredulously, pointing at Doyoung.

Oh no.

Taeyong looked innocently at his friends and smiled slightly once an idea lit up his head.

"Whoever manages to assemble her crib will be her godfather. Isn't that right, Sun Hee?" the little one just babbled while her eyes closed, beginning to drift off to sleep.

He didn't need to repeat his sentence before his friends ran out of the room and ran towards the place that would be Sun Hee's room.

Taeyong laughed and left his little daughter in the baby carrier while gently rocking her.

It will be a long day.

_____________________________________________

First month.

Week three.

If there's one thing people know about Lee Taeyong, it's that he's a dedicated and determined man. A workaholic perhaps, and that might be the reason behind the great success and reputation of his company. Taeyong knew what he was doing, and he was the best at it. His investments always remained clean and on a large scale; any businessman would feel honored to work with the great Lee, or even to have a minimal connection with him. He was well-known in the business world, not just because of who his father was, but because of the great work he had done on his own to achieve everything his companies obtained after his father's retirement. A young man in big business, respected by the world.

That was Lee Taeyong.

He was also a man of routine and hated when it was affected. Over the years and as he grew older, Taeyong realized that the best thing for him was to have a schedule ready for each morning so that things would go more smoothly and efficiently. His days were mostly planned, but it was obvious that there would always be some unexpected event to deal with during the day. However, Taeyong always found a way to handle it as organized as possible.

However, with the arrival of Sun Hee in his life, and what it caused to change completely, his routine had to be terribly affected. He had been aware that this would happen, at least in the first weeks – or months – of Sun Hee's life. At least until he could take her to a daycare or until he could find a nanny he could trust completely to leave the most precious thing in his life in her care.

So for now, he had to play two roles, that of being a father and that of being the CEO of one of Korea's most important companies. Although now that he could see his life from two completely different points of view, he could assure that the first role was by far more difficult than the second.

He had heard a lot about being a father, even his mother had given him a book on how to be a father, he thought it would help, but it really didn't help at all. Being a single father was hard, especially being a first-timer; his mind was in chaos. Of course, he loved Sun Hee, she was his life, his ray of sunshine, but sometimes it was too much to handle, sometimes the diapers didn't fit as nicely as a pretty nurse had taught him... Sometimes Sun Hee didn't want to drink the formula that Taeyong offered her when she was supposed to eat – and according to his mother, maybe it was because the girl needed breast milk, how the hell could Taeyong do that? – Sometimes no matter how much effort he made, Sun Hee wouldn't stop crying.

And that's where he was right now. At three in the morning, with visible dark circles under his eyes, his hair disheveled, barefoot while rocking Sun Hee back and forth in his arms, who seemed to find no peace.

"Shh, Sunnie. What's wrong? You should sleep a little, don't you want to let Daddy rest a bit?"

The day for Taeyong had been difficult; there had been some mishaps in the company that couldn't be dealt with from home, so he had to go there with Sun Hee as his company.

The confused looks from his employees had not been of much help to him at that moment.

Nor had it been of much help that Sun Hee had been whiny all day. Taeyong didn't understand what was going on with his little one, it wasn't that she needed a diaper change, it wasn't that she was hungry... she just spent the day throwing little complaints.

And that had been too much for Taeyong. The pressure of business matters and the responsibility he had as a father became too much.

Sun Hee continued to cry in his arms, and Taeyong felt like he would cry at any moment too.

"Sunnie, please. I don't want us to be kicked out of the building for bothering the neighbors," murmured a very frustrated father. "Calm down, baby, can you do that for me? Can you calm down a bit, huh? Can you do that for Daddy?"

Taeyong stroked his daughter's cheek, who seemed to stop crying and just let out a few small sobs that hopefully would stop in a few seconds.

He sighed and relaxed his body, bringing Sun Hee closer to him.

And maybe... just maybe, he spoke too quickly.

Because as soon as he was relaxed, his daughter started crying again, and this time Taeyong couldn't take it anymore and cried too. He sat on his bed with her in his arms, and a few tears fell from his eyes.

Looking at his daughter and seeing the state she was in, he couldn't help but feel his heart ache. Sun Hee looked so fragile, so small. How could he keep her safe? How could he make everything alright? Oh, how he wished he had come into the world with all the knowledge about how to be a good father in his mind.

"I wish I could know what's wrong with you, Sun Hee, but I can't read your little mind," he murmured between sobs. Obviously, his daughter didn't respond, but rather continued with her act.

His lungs would probably hurt right now with all the crying he had done, and that terrified Taeyong, who stood in his place and walked to the bedside table, where he picked up his phone and entered his contacts list. He didn't exactly know what he was doing or why, but his desperation overpowered him, and in a moment his fingers were dialing the only number he could think of, he just hoped he was doing the right thing.

One tone... two tones...

It's three in the morning, Lee Taeyong, who would answer you at this hour?

Three tones... four tones.

"Hello?" a very sleepy voice was heard on the other end of the line, and Taeyong could feel the air returning to his lungs.

"Y/N?, I'm really sorry for calling you at this hour," Lee murmured as he left his daughter in her rocker and held his phone between his shoulder and ear.

(Y/N) recognized that voice after a few seconds and recognized those cries even more, making her sit up briefly in her bed and mentally forcing herself to wake up completely.

"Taeyong? What's wrong? Is it Sun Hee the one I hear?"

Of course, it's Sun Hee, idiot! What other daughter does Lee Taeyong have?

"Yes, it's Sun Hee... and I... don't know what's going on. Sunnie has been complaining all day and hasn't stopped crying for a while. I don't know what to do, I've already changed her diaper, she's already eaten, I even sang her some lullabies, but nothing works," explained Taeyong desperately. "I don't know what to do, I'm tired, my arms hurt from carrying her so much, I've memorized all the nursery rhymes, and Sun Hee doesn't seem happy with anything."

"Oh, Taeyong..."

"You were sleeping, weren't you? Oh God, I'm so sorry, I know it's late, but calling you was the only thing I could think of, I'm really sorry..."

"Taeyong?" (Y/N) called him. "Don't worry, I told you that you could call me if you ever needed it. I have no problem helping you, even if it's three in the morning," the girl could hear the soft laugh of the nurse on the other end of the line, and this created a great contrast between the incessant cries of his daughter and the sweet laughter of (Y/N). "What can I do for you?"

"I know it's late, but I can't think of anything else, can you come? Or if you want, I can put Sun Hee in her car seat and drive over there!" Taeyong explained quickly.

"Calm down, I don't think it's the best idea for you to drive stressed and with Sun Hee crying in the back seat. Send me your address, and I'll be there in a moment."

"Thank you, (Y/N), I wouldn't be calling at this hour if I really didn't need it..."

______________________________________________

The door of Taeyong's large apartment was knocked, and this alerted the boy as he carried his baby close to his chest. Lee headed to the entrance of his house, and when he opened it, he found (Y/N) in a very different contrast than he had become accustomed to seeing her. For obvious reasons, she was not in her work clothes, and now she was wearing a black sweatshirt with cute pants covered in puppy drawings all over. Her hair slightly loose and without a drop of makeup.

Even so, she looked pretty.

Taeyong blinked a couple of times and moved aside to let the girl pass while he continued to rock his daughter.

(Y/N) entered the apartment and approached the father and the little girl.

"Can you lay her down somewhere? I'd like to give her a quick check-up,"

Taeyong nodded without hesitation, walked to the room that had been adapted for Sun Hee, and laid her down in her crib. The crib that Johnny had successfully built, opening the fight between who would truly be Sun Hee's godfather... something they would detail later.

Once the little one was in her crib, (Y/N) lifted her clothes slightly to observe Sun Hee's stomach and see a few more things. The boy simply watched in silence, resigned by his daughter's cries and giving a couple of glances to the girl beside him.

I wish the call I made had been for something else and not for this.

Taeyong and (Y/N) hadn't had contact since that time two weeks ago when the former had left the hospital. Taeyong tried to call her a couple of times, to thank her again for everything she had done for them during the time she had been Sun Hee's nurse, but for some reason, he was always busy enough with his daughter and the company, and he didn't allow himself to do it.

He would have liked to invite her for coffee sometime.

He really would have liked that.

"I'm not exactly a doctor," (Y/N) spoke. "But I've worked with many babies to see these consistent behaviors. It seems to me that Sun Hee is suffering from colic; I think it would be best to take her to the pediatrician first thing in the morning just to be sure."

Taeyong nodded without saying a word, maybe because he was too tired to formulate anything or because maybe his mind was no longer processing anything. (Y/N) smiled tenderly, regardless of the little one's whining; after all, it was something she heard daily in maternal care.

"Can I?" she asked, pointing to Sun Hee. Taeyong nodded again, and (Y/N) took the little one in her arms. "Oh Sun Hee, it's been a while since we last saw each other; you look even prettier than two weeks ago, even though you won't stop crying," she murmured, earning a small laugh from Taeyong.

"Try spending three hours listening to her cry," the visibly tired boy replied.

"I work in maternal care, remember? I hear several babies cry at the same time."

"True," Taeyong sighed, "it's just that it's tiring, you know? Particularly today was a heavy day, and it seems that Sunnie has no intention of letting me sleep tonight."

"We'll try to fix it then," (Y/N) gave him a smile, glanced around the room, and when she found a rocking chair, she went there to sit down.

She placed Sun Hee on her lap face down and began to pat her back gently, then used her fingers to give her a little massage, delicate enough for her. For a moment, the crying didn't stop, but after a few minutes, the father found himself really surprised to notice that his daughter had managed to calm down.

From the doorway of the room, with his arms crossed over his chest... Taeyong smiled.

But what a sight. (Y/N) tried not to be distracted by this and continued to massage while clearing her throat.

"The nursery is very nice," she commented, trying to look anywhere but at the boy's figure.

Taeyong nodded and approached her slightly.

If you don't see him, you won't be distracted... if you're not distracted by him, you won't think anything impure...

"Yes, we set it up the first week Sun Hee was here. The guys and I went through a moment-" Taeyong laughed as he remembered the day- "Do you remember, Doyoung? He was the one who accompanied me on the last day at the hospital," (Y/N) nodded, "Doyoung, Johnny, and Jaehyun helped me, it was chaos, but we managed to set everything up... still, Sun Hee doesn't sleep here yet."

"Really?"

"Mhmm, Sunnie sleeps with me. In a way, it's easier for her to sleep if I'm by her side; I just put some pillows around her, and she sleeps in my bed," he commented, feeling his cheeks blush. In reality, it wasn't so much that Sun Hee had gotten used to him, but rather that Taeyong rested more peacefully knowing that his daughter was by his side, so he would know that, if something happened, he could respond immediately.

"That's very sweet," she commented, "how has everything been? It's been three weeks since I heard anything from you," she continued massaging the little one's back.

"Uh, it's been good, I guess. Sometimes a bit chaotic, but I have my parents' help and Sun Hee's uncles," he replied, "... my friends, they say they're Sunnie's uncles, and I agree with them, they're like my brothers."

"It's nice to know you have someone to lean on; it would be much harder if you were alone," she took the baby in her arms and rocked her as she saw her sleepy face.

Taeyong, surprised by the immense ability of the nurse, watched the scene with tenderness, which looked too domestic. Too much for Taeyong's liking.

"Yes, it's been hard, but they've been a great help. I've been working from here, so I have to take care of the company and Sun Hee at the same time. Sometimes it gets stressful, but I have to keep doing it, at least until Sunnie gets bigger and I can get a nanny... or take her to the company. I don't know which of the two options is worse."

"You'll surely find a good nanny or daycare," (Y/N) encouraged, "you know? We have a daycare at the hospital... well, not exactly in maternal care or in the hospital itself, it's affiliated. Sometimes I cover shifts there; maybe you should consider it."

"Yes, maybe," Taeyong smiled.

Both remained silent for a few seconds, (Y/N) still gently rocking the little one to not wake her from the sleep she had fallen into, and Taeyong discreetly looking at the nurse.

Never in his life did he think he would find himself in such a situation.

But he wasn't complaining; he liked the scene. It was nice to see.

(Y/N) also discreetly contemplated the scene and thought to herself: How is it possible for Lee Taeyong to look so attractive at three in the morning? Even with dark circles under his eyes?

It wasn't news that the man seemed attractive to her, but after three weeks without hearing from him, she thought she wouldn't think of him that way. Of course, Taeyong and Sun Hee were constantly on her mind; she wanted to know about them on many occasions, but she had no way to contact with him, and the hospital, for good reasons, wouldn't give her the Lee family's private information; after all, it's the hospital's policies, and she would respect them.

However, she was grateful that Taeyong had called her, even though it had been at three in the morning on a Tuesday, to deal with Sun Hee's irritated problem.

She just hoped that if they met again, it would be in a different situation...

______________________________________________

An hour and a half later, with a deeply sleeping Sun Hee in Taeyong's bed surrounded by pillows, and the clock showing four forty-five in the morning. Lee Taeyong and Kang (Y/N) were in the living room of the apartment, not saying much.

"I think I should go," the girl commented. "I start my shift in a few hours."

Two hours and fifteen minutes to be exact.

"Oh my God, (T/N), you should have told me you had an early shift; I wouldn't have made you come here if I had known," Taeyong exclaimed alarmed.

"Don't worry, really. I told you that you could call me if you ever needed anything, and I meant it. You and Sun Hee would never be a problem. I'm glad to help," she smiled.

"Thank you very much, it means a lot to me that you did this," the boy commented. For a moment, he thought about taking the girl's hands and giving them a slight squeeze, but he held back his thoughts. "I promise to repay you soon... maybe with a coffee?" the brunette asked, feeling a surge of hope in his chest.

He saw the girl's smile widen, causing him to smile as well, and he lowered his gaze shyly.

"Rest assured that I'll say yes," she replied. "I'll be waiting for your call, even if it takes three weeks again," she joked.

"I won't take that long this time, I promise you."

"We'll see about that... in the meantime, don't forget to take Sun Hee to the pediatrician tomorrow; anything you need, you can call me, Lee Taeyong. I'd like to know how things are going with Sun Hee afterward."

"I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Goodnight, Lee Taeyong."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

And so, at five in the morning, each went to bed with a small smile decorating their faces.

____________________________________________

For (Y/N), life was something she appreciated.

Perhaps that's why she chose to work in the healthcare field.

She grew up in a middle-class family. Nothing extravagant, but with everything necessary to live comfortably. Her family wasn't large either; it was just her, her two siblings, and her parents. A typical family with its ups and downs.

She was never demanding and instead tried to help with whatever she could. She liked making people feel good and enjoyed contributing whenever possible, something that made her parents proud.

She grew up as a normal girl, at least until she reached high school, where her parents' divorce took place. She never knew when it happened or what led them to make that decision, which left a scar on her heart.

Or maybe she always knew but never wanted to acknowledge it.

She must have noticed it when her parents started arguing over every little thing. She must have noticed it when her father was less present at home. Surely, she noticed it when her mother cried all day in her room when her husband spent the entire night away. Perhaps the times when her older sister was irritated and left home to hang out with people of dubious reputation were a sign of how her family was gradually falling apart.

However, she hoped it wouldn't be like that.

Still, despite how much that decision affected her, she continued with her life as best as she could, being a support to her mother and becoming the older sister when her brother failed in that task.

She became an independent woman. She didn't like relying on others for money, which is why she managed to work since she entered high school. It was a part-time job, enough for her to have her own money, and it was the job that allowed her to find her vocation and passion.

Her job wasn't complicated – or at least, it didn't feel that way because it was something she genuinely enjoyed. Every day, after finishing her last high school class, (Y/N) rushed to the Dongjak area, where on a small street, she found the daycare center that allowed her to find her path. At that time, she didn't fully interact with the children, as she lacked the experience needed and was still young for that, but she was the assistant to the caregivers there, and seeing them work excited her every day.

She didn't know if she had developed an emotional attachment there, after the conflicts that had arisen at home due to her parents' arguments.

But she enjoyed being there, she really did.

Then her sister, in an attempt to leave home and go with who she swore was the love of her life, got pregnant at a young age. It was a difficult pregnancy, and (Y/N) took part in taking care of her sister throughout the process. She appreciated everything she had learned at the daycare center, which allowed her to put it into practice once her nephew was born.

Her nephew was the apple of her eye and would always be.

She didn't blame her sister, she really didn't want to, but there were times when it seemed like she was the mother of her nephew herself. There were many occasions when she had to take care of Jisung. Her sister had to leave high school behind and get a job to cover her and her son's needs, especially after the man who swore to always be by her side had cowardly fled two months before giving birth, making the childbirth process even more difficult than it already was.

So, her nephew saw her as a pillar. Someone who took care of him, fed him, changed him, and cared for him. (Y/N) even witnessed his "firsts" before his own mother. His first steps, his first words, she even accompanied him on his first day of preschool, continuing until she had to go to university.

Having found her vocation early on made everything easier. She entered the Academy of Health and Pediatric Nursing in Seoul. Where she always got good grades and became an exemplary student, graduating with all the honors her academy could give her almost three years ago.

It wasn't difficult for her to find a job immediately, thanks to the recommendations some of her teachers had, she was able to find a nice position in the maternity and pediatric care area at Seoul General Hospital, where she couldn't feel more comfortable.

Where she was right now.

" Nurse (Y/N)!" a soft voice called from behind her, causing her to turn around and smile emotionally.

"Hello, little one," she greeted, approaching the bed of one of her patients. "How are you feeling today?"

"Very well, they told Mom that I can go home today, they say the treatment worked," the boy told her with a huge smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that! You'll soon be back to see your friends at school," she encouraged him.

"Yes, but I'll miss you a lot, so I made this for you," he said, pointing to the piece of paper in his hands. "It's you and me."

(Y/N) smiled tenderly and looked at the drawing Kaeyoon had made for her.

"It's very nice, Yoonie, thank you very much for your gift, I'll hang it on my fridge," she said as she high-fived the boy. Then she looked at the drawing and looked doubtful. "And who is he? Is he your dad?" she asked, pointing to another figure in the drawing.

"No, that's Doctor Yuta, and he has hearts in his eyes because he's your boyfriend!" he exclaimed happily, causing (Y/N) to widen her eyes and then release a smile.

"But Yoonie~, Doctor Yuta is not my boyfriend," she replied, still laughing.

"Then can I be your boyfriend?” he asked skillfully.

"Oh, honey, I'm afraid you're too young for me," she replied with a smile.

"And when I get bigger?"

"Maybe when you're big," (T/N) continued. "But by then, you'll surely have found another girlfriend that will have your age."

"But you're the prettiest! Besides, I have to beat Doctor Yuta," he muttered.

"What do you have to beat me in?" another voice chimed in, and (Y/N)'s body reacted to it.

"In nothing."

"In being (Y/N)'s boyfriend," Kaeyoon and (T/N) replied in unison.

Yuta opened his mouth and pretended to be surprised. "So it's a competition?"

"Yoonie's just kidding," (T/N) said with a nervous smile. "You know how kids are, doctor."

"Look, doctor! I've made a drawing for you too," Kaeyoon exclaimed, changing the subject drastically, and it was the perfect opportunity for (Y/N) to awkwardly step away from there.

She wrapped the drawing in the paper and put it in the pocket of her pants before starting to check the checklist and see which child she should attend to. She stood at the desk for a few seconds, checking and arranging things until she felt a presence beside her, one that she could easily identify.

"So you have little kids falling for you," Yuta commented with a mocking smile.

(T/N) smiled nervously. "That's how kids are. Two weeks ago, he was in love with Nurse Mina."

"But he was right to fall for you," Dr. Yuta continued, and (T/N) let out a laugh followed by him. "Would you like to go for a coffee in your next break at the hospital cafeteria? I mean, it's not the most elegant thing, but I'd like to spend some more time with you."

(Y/N)'s cheeks turned crimson, and she nodded, smiling. "Oh yes, of course. I would love to."

"Maybe I might win you over Kaeyoon," Yuta said as he walked away from the desk.

_______________________________________________

Second month.

Week one, Thursday.

(Y/N) had been right two weeks ago. Sun Hee was suffering from colic, and according to the pediatrician, it was due to the formula Taeyong had been feeding her.

Taeyong instinctively felt like a bad father; he had been feeding his daughter something her little stomach seemed unable to tolerate. But how could he have known? He had to completely discard those formula cans from his pantry and replace them with the new formula the pediatrician had recommended, and soon, Sun Hee's discomfort was diminishing.

Even now, he could sleep a little more at night.

Along with the massages he had learned the night (Y/N) had helped him and a couple of other routines, Sun Hee's colic decreased.

(Y/N)…

Although Taeyong had assured not to take three weeks again to contact her, it seemed that Taeyong really wanted to leave her waiting. Not to misinterpret, it wasn't that he didn't want to call her and invite her for a coffee, but his life was busy, and his priority was his daughter instead of throwing flirty glances around.

Although he knew that a coffee was the least Taeyong could offer her in gratitude for that time at three in the morning, he simply couldn't muster the courage to pick up his damn phone and dial a few numbers. Besides, he didn't want to misread the signs; who would want to date a dad?

"You should just call her," Johnny advised as he watched his friend from the other side of the couch.

Sun Hee rested on her father's chest as he stared at his phone incessantly.

"I don't know, John," Taeyong replied with a sigh.

"How long has it been? Two weeks? You should have called her the next day."

"I don't want to pressure anything... maybe she's not interested."

"The girl came at three in the morning on a Tuesday, do you really think she wouldn't be even slightly interested?" Johnny asked incredulously.

"It was for Sun Hee, nothing else. She said she wouldn't mind helping with Sun Hee whenever she could," the younger one confessed, stroking his daughter's back.

"You should give yourself more credit, Lee Taeyong. You're a coveted and handsome man; being a dad now doesn't change how attractive you are."

"I was hoping she would be interested, not you," he joked, and Johnny contemplated throwing a pillow at him for a moment, but after seeing his niece on his friend's chest, he stopped.

"You'll never know if she has even a little interest if you don't call her. Plus, for the favor she did you, it's the least you can do."

Taeyong fell silent and sighed.

"I know, I'm aware of that," he replied, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'll keep considering it."

"You're stubborn," Johnny commented, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Get your ass up and come with me to the supermarket; Sun Hee finished her formula, and she needs more."

"Anything for my niece."

______________________________________________

“What do you think of this?” Johnny asked as he showed Taeyong a jar of baby food.

Taeyong turned around and snorted.

“Sun Hee still can't eat those things; besides, the doctor recommended that once Sunnie started trying food, I should prepare her purees myself. It's more natural,” the father shrugged, glancing at his daughter strapped to his chest in a baby carrier.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“I never in my life imagined you playing the role of a dad,” Johnny commented with a half-smile.

His friend sighed and placed a can of formula in the shopping cart before sighing again.

“I didn't either, but Sun Hee came, and I'll try to be the best father she could have,“ he replied, smiling as he looked at his daughter. “ Everything happened very quickly, but Sunnie is a ray of sunshine.”

“She is!” Johnny agreed, then cleared his throat. “When are you going back to work? At the company, I mean.”

“John, this isn't the place to talk about that,” Taeyong said, pushing the cart.

“Taeyong, you know it has to happen. At some point in your life, you have to return to your usual routine. You can't work from home your whole life. Even the day will come when you have to go out and have fun too!”

“Johnny, stop”

“You know I'm right, Taeyong.”

The younger one sighed again. "I know, John, but now isn't the time for that. Sunnie is only two months old; the day will come when I can take her to the office without her getting irritated so quickly or the day when she's big enough to leave her in daycare."

“Just promise me you won't put your life completely on hold. I know Sunnie is your priority now, and some things change when you become a father, but please, also give yourself some time. If you ever need it, you can ask your mother to take care of her, I could even be Sun Hee's babysitter for a day!”

“I'd rather leave Sunnie with Doyoung and Jaehyun than with you,” Taeyong joked.

“Hey! How could you prefer to leave my niece with those two clowns? They can't even take care of themselves!”

Taeyong chuckled and continued pushing the shopping cart while considering what groceries to bring home.

“Okay, Johnny, I really appreciate it.”

His friend kept talking beside him, but he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he was focusing on the items on the shelves and what he should take home, gently rocking Sun Hee to prevent her from crying right there.

He stopped somewhere between the cereal aisle and the canned goods, and upon hearing a child's laughter, he turned to his right, finding a very familiar face. The girl was about twenty steps away from him, with a smile on her face as she listened to what a little boy was saying to her.

Taeyong was confused; his brow furrowed as he looked sideways at the scene. Was that girl (Y/N)? If so, who was the boy next to her? His eyes widened; could he be her son? But what about that time at three in the morning? She wouldn't leave her child alone somewhere to go help another family... What if she had a husband and left him with him? Oh no, no, no, no.

“Taeyong?“ a female voice brought him back to reality, and he focused on the girl coming towards him with a confused expression, then smiling as she recognized him.

“ (Y/N), hi” he greeted, once she and the boy holding her hand were in front of him.

“ Of all the places we could run into each other, it has to be the supermarket” she commented, laughing softly.

Taeyong smiled. "Yes, Sunnie ran out of formula, so I had to come for more," he explained, pointing at his daughter.

“ Oh, I see. How's Sun Hee? I haven't heard from you since about two weeks ago,“ she inquired.

“She's been better; she had colics because her stomach couldn't handle the formula she was drinking. Now everything's fine.”

“I'm glad to hear that,“ (Y/N) noticed how Taeyong discreetly observed Jisung and spoke, “ Oh, yes, he's Jisung*. He's my nephew; I brought him to buy his favorite cereal, and he's staying over tonight.”

The guy felt the blood rushing back through his body and smiled warmly as he leaned slightly to look at the little boy.

“Hey, hi champ. I'm Taeyong, and she” he momentarily uncovered his daughter's face “ is Sun Hee.”

“Hi, Mr. I'm Jisung, and I'm this many,“ he held up his right hand, raising five fingers and showing them to Taeyong, who smiled tenderly.

“Oh, that's a lot. You're almost catching up to me.”

“Yeah, he’s almost your age” she laughed off.

In that brief moment, Taeyong and (Y/N) exchanged a few more words. The guy was distracted by her, now seeing her in a different light. He had seen her in her work clothes, then in pajamas when he called her at three in the morning, and now he saw her in a floral dress and a thin sweater covering her, with her hair loose and slightly wavy, and a bit of gloss on her lips.

She looked phenomenal. Actually, she looked phenomenal no matter what.

In nurse's attire, in pajamas, he was sure she would even look spectacular in a sack of potatoes because she just shone in every way.

However, his little and discreet admiration was interrupted when Johnny's voice called him abruptly.

“Hey, Taeyong. Look what I found; this would look cute on my niece” Johnny spoke, lightly tapping his back as he reached his side. Then he realized the situation and smiled sideways, “Oh, I didn't know you had found someone. I'm Johnny Suh, pleased to meet you” the blonde commented, extending his hand to the girl and giving a high-five to the little boy.

“She's (Y/N),” Taeyong said, fearing the worst.

“Oh.”

“ Nice to meet you, Johnny. I'm (Y/N). I was Sun Hee's nurse while she was in the hospital” she spoke kindly.

Johnny smiled playfully and turned to look at his friend, who was looking at him barely shaking his head.

Taeyong could expect anything from his friend, and that was what he feared the most.

“Oh, so you're the nurse Yong wanted to invite for coffee?“ he innocently asked.

“Johnny.”

“Hmm, I don't know” she responded with a little laugh, “Am I?”

“Excuse my friend; he's a very busy and absent-minded man” Johnny explained, receiving a small punch in his ribs from Taeyong, who smiled falsely and continued talking to the girl, “Isn't that right, Taeyong?”

“Yes, sorry for not calling you back after that night; I've just been taking care of Sun Hee and working at the company, so I didn't find the right moment to call you” Taeyong spoke with his head slightly bowed, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, don't worry. I figured you'd be busy. No need to apologize; I completely understand” she assured him with a smile.

“But what a lovely girl! You better invite her for coffee; otherwise, I'll do it myself” Johnny encouraged while still smiling, causing (Y/N) to laugh.

“Johnny...”

“I was just kidding,“ he raised his arms in a sign of innocence, “but I'll leave you two alone; I heard there's a sale on floral detergent. I can't miss it!“ he exclaimed so that, without further ado, he walked away from the aisle and left both guys with both children, alone.

“I'm sorry, really. Sometimes Johnny can be... extra,” Taeyong apologized quickly, shaking his head with a smile, “but what he said is true; I wanted to invite you for coffee, but I couldn't find the right moment to call you. I'm sorry for taking so long.”

She smiled sideways and nodded slightly as she placed her hand on the guy's shoulder.

“It's okay. I waited for your call after you said you wouldn't take three weeks to call me this time,” she said, laughing, “but I figured you'd be busy, so no hard feelings.

“Is it still time for me to invite you?” he asked, his big eyes shining. (Y/N) nodded with her cheeks turning red, “How about Saturday afternoon? I know of a café not far from here, and they sell amazing muffins. I'm sure you'll like the place.”

“You've convinced me with the muffins.”

“Of course” Taeyong laughed. “I'll send you the location by text... this time, I'll do it.”

“I'll wait for your message then,” she said, nodding, then staying silent for a few seconds.

Should they say goodbye now? Should he wave his hand? Or leave a kiss on her cheek? They still didn't have the confidence for that, did they? Would it be weird if he did? How complicated everything is!

“Auntie, I want to go now,” the voice of a little boy took them out of their trance, and they changed their view to the kid.

“Oh, of course, my love. Have you had your cereal?” the girl asked, and Jisung nodded, “Okay, then we’ll go,” she assured him, then turned her gaze back to the boy and the little one on his chest, “it's been nice seeing you; give Sun Hee a kiss from me, have a good night.”

“See you on Saturday.”

“See you on Saturday, Taeyong.”

______________________________________________

The boy approached his car where Johnny was leaning against it, waiting for him. Taeyong gave him a dirty look, and the blond raised his arms as he opened the back door.

“Don't look at me like that! “ he pleaded with a smile “I did you a favor, dude!”

“Just don't say anything and put the stuff in the trunk” Taeyong ordered as he placed Sunnie in her car seat.

Johnny obeyed his friend's orders and began to put everything inside the car. After a few minutes, he returned to Taeyong's side, who had already settled Sun Hee comfortably and asleep in her car seat.

“Come on, help me get rid of this thing, it's stuck,” the brunette said as he tried to open one of the zippers of his baby carrier, struggling with it.

His friend approached him even closer and tried to help in a failed attempt; the zipper was stuck, and it didn't seem to want to open even with all the force in the universe.

“Let me try, don't move,” Johnny requested as he held his friend by the back and put one of his hands on the zipper of the carrier, “why won't it come out?”

“What a beautiful family!“ the exclamation of an older lady was heard, causing both boys to look at her. She was looking at them with a tender smile as she waved at them. Then they looked at each other and at their current position, prompting Taeyong to quickly push him away with his hands, and Johnny cleared his throat as he turned around.

“You get rid of that by yourself”

I’m sorry I took too long for posting this!! 😭

Taglist is open, just lemme know if u want to be added! You can ask me something if you want here!

Taglist: @geminiml95 @zooana @cathamada

73 notes · View notes

veeluvss · 1 year ago

Text

✮⋆˙ first time family

day 2 of my 12 days of christmas !!

jj and the boys x reader !!

1443 words

it’s your first christmas with jj and her boys after her divorce.

“Mummy wake up !!” Michael cheered, jumping onto your bed and shaking JJ awake. Well, trying to. JJ could sleep through a storm, particularly after a late night at work. You, however, were woken up by the slightest creak.

“Hey kid,” you laughed, rolling over.

“Mummy won’t wake up,” he groaned. You smiled and grabbed him gently. You pulled him into your arms, accepting the cuddles he didn’t fight for once.

“Mummy’s tired. Cuddle with me for a while, we can watch her sleep.”

“That’s weird,” he laughed but stayed lying there, in your arms. You had rare cuddles with Michael but even rarer cuddles with Henry. Michael was only seven and a lot more open to newer people but Henry was more closed off. He’d been processing his parents divorce as well as a new parent and school - it was a lot and you had to be patient. You loved the boys as if they were your own but to them, you were still new. With JJ’s work schedule and the boys being at school or their dads, you didn’t see them much but now you’d moved in and you saw them regularly. JJ had been leaving them with you on your own more too which you appreciated - you wanted to get to know them - but it was even more nerve-wracking.

Having come into a family dynamic which had already been established, and even recently cracked - was really difficult and you’d been dragging yourself to make sure you did what was best for the boys. Nights were spent crying to yourself about not being good enough. Yet JJ made it better. The way she looked at you with so much love, the way she’d curl into you and thank you every day for being the best you could be. For loving her.

Around twenty minutes later, you noticed Michael had fallen back asleep in your arms and you smiled, feeling accomplished. Just as you went to close your eyes, you saw JJ peak at you through hers. You smiled and hid your head in the back of Michael’s blonde hair.

“You got him back to sleep,” she whispered.

“I was just lying here holding him.”

“He likes it.You’re doing so amazing,” she leaned over and kissed your cheek before sneaking out of the bed, being careful not to disturb her sleeping son in your arms. You smiled at the simple praise, maybe you weren’t doing so bad.

“You don’t make eggs the same as dad,” Michael said as he dug into his breakfast. You paused as your heart sank. You weren’t sure what to reply.

“Is that a good thing?” JJ asked, resting a gentle hand on your back, offering her support.

“Not good, not bad,” Michael shrugged, taking a mouthful of eggs.

“They’re still good, just not the same,” Henry backed up his brother.

“Okay well that’s good,” you nodded, almost trying to convince yourself it was okay.

“We’re going christmas shopping today boys,” JJ said, taking her own seat at the table. You went and sat in your own.

“Who for?”

“For each other and other family. You can buy your dad gifts.”

“Do we have to buy gifts for Y/N?” Michael asked and you sniggered.

“No, I don’t expect any gifts. Save your money for your mum and dad.”

Henry nodded, agreeing.

The four of you entered the department store and JJ turned to you all.

“I’m going to find presents for the team, you’re welcome to come with me or y/n Michael. Henry you can go around the store alone but you can’t leave it!” JJ said, proud of her little action plan.

“I’m going to get presents for your mum,” you smiled and Henry looked up at you, you could see he wanted to join.

“I want something for Dad!” Michael announced, grabbing JJ’s hand.

“Cool, we’ll go this way. Meet back here in half an hour!”

You and Henry watched JJ and Michael walk away from you, hand in hand and you turned to her eldest.

“You coming with me to get her present?” He nodded and smiled a little so you headed off towards the jewelry section.

“What are you getting her?” He asked, keeping up beside you.

“She wanted this jewelry set, I just need to check they have it in stock.”

He nodded and then cleared his throat, “do you think you can help me pick something for her?”

You didn’t want to act all giddy and happy that he’d asked you for help so you remained calm, turning to him with a little nod.

“What are you thinking of getting her?”

“I’m not sure, that’s my problem. It’s her first christmas without dad buying her a massive, extravagant gift and I know she has you and things but as the man in her life now, I want to treat her like the Queen she is-” Henry explained and you smiled wide.

“She deserves that, hundred percent,” you agreed. “And coming from you is even better.”

“I just don’t know what will do it.” You got to the store and he looked longingly in the window.

“I know you want her to have this big, extravagant present like Will used to get her but she doesn’t expect that. She just wants you to be happy, Henry. It’s been a tough year.”

“I know, I am happy. She’s happy and you’re really good for her - I just want to show her that I love her too.”

“She knows you love her.”

“I want to get her something anyway.”

“I get that. Come on, let’s go look inside.”

The jewelry shop was bright and the gleaming pieces reflected off the pristine glass around the store.

“There’s so much to chose from,” he said.

“Well you can cut it in half by choosing gold or silver and your mum’s silver girl.”

“How do you know that?”

“She just is, trust me.”

“Okay so I want silver.” You saw the set she’d had her heart set on as he said it and you melted. You could picture in it now, with the bracelet and the necklace and the earrings. You knew she’d look breathtaking. Even more breathtaking than she already is.

“Oh wow-” Henry said, coming to your side. “You’re getting her that? It’s perfect.” You thought for a moment as you processed his question. The way his body turned to it and his eyes lit up. His hand instinctively went to his wallet and you smiled, stepping closer to him. You put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in.

“You should get it for her.”

“What?” He looked at you, a happy gleam in his eye.

“Yeah. You said yourself it’s perfect. She’s been wanting it. She’ll love it even more from you.”

“Are you sure? What are you going to get her?”

“Oh I can worry about that. You get it her. Can you afford it or do you need me to put towards?”

“I can afford it,” he smiled. You nodded and watched as he called someone over to enquire.

Walking out the shop, you were chuffed. Henry walked prouder next to you, having found her the perfect present and you were so happy with yourself because you had helped him.

“Hey y/n,” he said as you waited by the entrance for JJ and Michael. “Thank you for helping me.”

You looked at him and he had genuine love in his eyes.

“You’re welcome, Henry. I can always help you with anything. Just ask.”

Michael ran up to you both and JJ’s hand slid in yours.

“Hey love,” you smiled turning to her. She leaned in for a small kiss and the boys groaned making you laugh and kiss JJ more. You felt at peace with them, finally at peace.

Christmas day came around quicker than any of you expected. The boys sat on the floor and you and JJ sat on the sofa’s.

“Mum this is for you,” Henry said, handing her a neatly wrapped box.

“For me? Henry you didn’t have to.”

“I did. Open it.” He moved to sit beside her on the sofa and you smiled at him, encouragingly. JJ took the paper off and gasped at the brand before opening the box. Her face lit up as she noticed the set she’d wanted for so long.

“Henry.” She said, her eyes filling with tears, “This is too much.”

“I can’t take it back,” he said and smiled shyly.

“Thank you my boy. I love you,” she said and opened her arms for a hug. Henry hugged her back and you watched on, proud.

“I love you mum.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau head canons #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #jj x reader #henry lamontagne #jj criminal minds #jennifer jareau au #jennifer jareau!mom #crimimas #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #12 days of christmas

127 notes · View notes

chaoticly-shy-dragon · 7 days ago

Text

I'm back with more demigod dead boy detectives (parts one and two for those interested)! In short, Edwin is a son of Athena (born at the turn of the 20th century) who spent seventy years in the fields of punishment by accident - after he escaped it was 1989 and most of the gods had moved to America of all places.

And despite all that, St Hilarion was still functioning as a demigod heaven. Edwin is not happy. At all.

Charles on the other hand is having an interesting time all around. The backstory for him that I came up with starts from before he was born. The OG pjo au that I read had his father be Ares and yes?! I adore the Frank Zang of him?

But his mom and Ares didn't click in my mind until I realized that Ares is in an on-and-off relationship with Aphrodite - who is cutting and sharp and tough but also soft and ditsy and a bit shallow. His past lovers don't all need to be veterans or kickboxers. It was an eureka moment, to be honest.

Charles' mom (name still in the works) met Ares in a museum showcasing ancient pottery and jewelry - some of them Greek - most of which depicted old heroic tales or bore the scars of the years. They started talking completely by chance - Aphrodite had stood Ares up and he didn't feel like going back to what he was doing. He decided to check this collection out - to reminisce or to try and remember fallen friends. Or just to sulk. Either way, he was there.

Charles's future mom sees him and the conflicting aesthetic of his clothing and the display he was looking at makes her want to talk with him. They hit it off. He asks to see her again and the rest is history.

They are together for four months before she gets pregnant. As expected from a god, Ares disappears from her life with only a few words. Charles's mom is left alone with a baby, in a shitty apartment with no family in the country.

It sucks. Like a lot.

Then she meets Paul Richard Rowland.

(I'm sorry but I can't do Paul's name dirty in a pjo au, I just can't. Although the irony was amusing enough to make me consider it for a whole second.)

They hit it off even with the occasionally crying baby in the next room. Soon they are engaged to be married - and married soon afterward. Charles's last name is changed and would you look at that - a happy family.

Not.

Charles is a charming and athletic boy with a love for ska and a bit of a temper. His dad is a cunt and his mom is quiet. That's fine until it isn't.

In an argument, it gets out that Richard isn't Charles's actual father (he is 14 when that happens). Stuff gets progressively worse after that (both with Richard and with the monsters - Richard's whole "something is wrong with you" really drives in the "I am different" mindset you really don't want in an untrained demigod) until Charles' mom gets desperate and contacts the boarding school - Ares had assured her that it would always have a spot for Charles.

(The phone number is that of the school board of all the still functioning demigod establishments. Had Charles been a girl they would have referred the mom to one of the all-girls or mixed schools. It's a system run by descendants, wind spirits and satyrs.)

((It's not as efficient as say sending satyrs to schools, but they only have so many satyrs. They do the guardian routine! Honest!))

Fast forward and Charles has been to St Hil for almost a year and a half. He is a semi-full-year camper in the sense he went home once for one summer and then only for two to three days a year.

He gets along with his siblings and the cricket team. He is friendly and nice but 80s racism and classist bullshit exist - he can't be too vocal with his thoughts and opinions less he is ostracized by his peers, he has to play a role he only has half the script of. The demigod thing isn't always a blessing.

He is a deft hand with daggers and knives, he is skilled with a sword - but he would prefer to play cricket or go to concerts. No magical barrier means nightly patrols and the occasional monster attack.

Cue the death scene. It plays like canon but with weapons. He is chased into the freezing lake by his siblings and his former mates. (And Charles had been so excited about having siblings - but this - they - he couldn't call brothers.)

There aren't any naiads during the winter - or they are sleeping deep into it. No one intervenes. He manages to escape his pursuers by going deeper into the woods until he comes across an old shed.

Charles goes in.

(He didn't hear the sharp snap of twigs and branches in the other direction of the one he was going. He didn't notice the second pair of footsteps shadowing his own.)

((He does see the lantern.))

And they finally meet. Isn't it grand? (TBC)

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #demigod au #pjo au #honestly this is what I have so far because I don't think a lotus shopping centre is a thing that can exist #dbd au #but also ares has a soft spot for sharp women that can make him laugh and i will die on this hill #they went on the cutsiest dates #his rude remarks made [insert name here] laugh so hard #like mother like son #charles being mistaken for an apollo kid when he got to the school #also [i really need a name i won't call her mary] knew Ares as Asher #since there are no cabins it's more like houses #but it's mainly different dorms #there is a huge - not as big as when edwin went there - unclaimed room that fits like 10 people in it #have you ever went hiking to those high enough peaks that the only place you can sleep is a shared room for 12?#yeah like those

26 notes · View notes

kaytheday · 9 days ago

Text

The Tragedy of being Second Best - Steve Randle

I think @alittlebitofloveliness brought this up back in September but I want to say something else on it. (Thanks for bringing it up by the way!) Personally, Steve Randle is a hard character for me to write because of how similar I feel to him. Like Steve, I have spent a lot of my life bitter and angry, feeling inadequate and second best. This fic was kind of hard for me to write and half of it might just be me projecting but I wanted to write something about Steve Randle and everything that he represents. Enjoy 💚💚

Steve has always had a hard time with keeping his temper.

This isn't news to anyone. He was pretty sure he had come out of the womb spitting curses and ready to punch his way through life.

It didn’t help that his father hated him. The bruises and bloodied lips he's had since four years old have proven that. His dad is a drunk who beats on him, so Steve learned from a young age how to stay gone. Steve was never is fathers first choice, he isn't even his second choice. Depending on the day, his dad would probably trade him for a six-pack.

Steve was nobody's first choice. It was just one more thing to be angry about.

His mother was a pretty woman. He knew because of the way people used to talk about her. The way people still talk about her.

Though, looking back, he never had any pretty memories of her. She left when he was in kindergarten. His dad told him it was his fault and of course Steve believed him. He can still remember flashes of nasty conversation exchanged with her. Why are you so angry? Nobody is this angry and bitter at six years old. If he thinks about her words for too long it makes him want to throw something. His dad said she left for California, she wanted to find the beach or something like that. Steve figured that she chose a state over her own son. Steve was nobody's first choice.

Every time he thinks about either of them, his veins fill with fire and his chest constricts.

Then there's Soda. He can still remember the day that they met. Steve with his black eye and scuffed shoes and Soda with his hand-me-down backpack and earth-shattering smile. How quickly they became friends and how quickly everything changed. He was welcome at the Curtis home and more than that they actually wanted him around. Soda always invited him over and seemed to want to be around him at school. Despite what his parents said.

He was glad to have Sodapop around too. Nothing about Soda can make him angry. Irritated? Of course, but never downright angry. Not like everything else in the world.

The two of them never could be still for long. They were always getting up to something. Like the time they hid all the chalk out in the school yard so they wouldn't have to do math that afternoon or the time they put a thumb tack on the substitute teacher's chair so she would leave.

They were always moving; moving in tandem, so fast and so hard that the picture was blurring at all the edges.

More than anything, Soda seemed to be the only one around who was not only able to tolerate his biting tongue, but actually liked it. Because what did Steve have if not his biting tongue, fighting fists, and fire in his veins? He had grown up with nothing but those to protect him. Even his mother had seen it.

When they got older, things got more complicated. Soda was still Steve's best friend in the whole world. He was charismatic, outgoing, understanding, beautiful, and funny. Steve knew this but as they got older, everyone else seemed to realize this too. Steve felt that familiar anger and jealousy creep in. The same one his mom had pointed out so early. The same one that had led Steve to beg for his fathers attention as he drank himself half to death. Steve had always needed some sort of attention, now it was just Soda's instead of his father.

So when those others started to notice how great Soda was, he started competing against them.

Every time they would get talking to someone at a party or a drag race or even school, people would never come over to talk to Steve. They came to talk to Soda. His beautiful shining best friend who is everyone's first choice. And once again Steve was left drowning as he realized yet again that he was nobody's first choice.

The worst part was that all of it made sense. Why would people not want to talk to Soda? Why would they not look through Steve? As if he wasn't there? Instead focusing on the charismatic golden teenager with the biggest heart in all of Tulsa. And why would they not?

Instead of saying anything or god forbid, bringing it up to Soda, he got angry. Packing it in like a suitcase with too many clothes. And because of that tightly packed anger came guilt, because Steve shouldn't feel angry about people wanting to be around Soda. Especially when he wanted to be around Soda.

Steve is reduced to the second best, and he deserves it. All these feelings mixing into a nasty cocktail of bitterness. Wasn't that what his mother always told him he did best? Was he still his momma's bitter little boy? So he turned bitter and stopped pulling his punches. Instead, throwing himself into the things he was good at, like fixing cars and fighting soc's and all the other things that aren't worth anything to be good at.

Two weeks after he turned sixteen, he got a job at a DX gas station. It felt good to get that job. The manager liked how much he knew about cars and was impressed with how good Steve seemed to be able to fix them. He was constantly busy and could always do something with his hands. He was so distracted that he hardly had time to think. To think about his shitty father beating him at home or how Soda was so much better at everything than him or how his mother was right about him or how he was nobody’s first choice at all.

He liked working there but he especially liked that it got him out of the house and got him money. It was one good thing that he had.

Then everything turned bitter. He did it to himself really. For the three months till Soda turned sixteen, he talked about wanting to work at the DX with Steve. His parents wouldn’t let him until he turned sixteen. Steve encouraged this, half of him thinking it would be fun and the other half thinking about how he would be second best at something yet again. The guilt ate at him, but still he kept encouraging.

True to both of their words, Soda got the job and things changed once again. What was it that Ponyboy had said before? People were drawn to Soda like flies to honey? Something like that. Steve never said made a point to have a conversation with the kid anyway. He was always annoyed with his lack of focus and his constant hero worship of Sodapop. Though to be fair, he was annoyed with everyone’s hero worship of Soda.

How will this endless cycle of bitterness and anger end?

The short answer? It probably wouldn’t. Steve would probably always bear those hungry flying fists and spiteful tongue like a cross. Like a weight, draped unflatteringly across the scars in his face. He had always been a fighter. Hurting other people was often the only outlet he had.

“Steve..!” The voice sounds far away. “Steve..! You have to stop…” Suddenly he is being shoved down. “Steve..!” The world is exploding in angry red, his muscles are tense and he turns again, ready to fight. The voice sounds so loud and Sodapop is right in his face. “Steve, what the hell happened?”

“Soda we gotta go man. Get him up and let's go.” That’s Two-Bit. Suddenly Steve looks down. There is a guy laying on the ground covered in blood. He looks half dead with the way someone beat him up. Steve’s knuckles are busted open and bleeding but they don’t sting like usual. He can’t feel anything and his head is still far away. Soda shakes him a little and they hit the ground running.

They duck inside a greaser joint and head for the bathroom. Soda turns to him, looking sick. Two-Bit starts washing the blood off of his face. But Steve is still angry and ready to fight. His body is tense, like a spring that’s been wound too tight. His fists are pulsating and he’s angry. It’s the only conscious thought his brain can come up with. He’s angry.

“Steve…” Soda is at a loss for words and Steve doesn’t know why. The only thing he can feel is anger. Got red anger as a scream threatens to tear through his throat. His hands want to keep hitting.

“What Soda’s trying to say is you beat the guy half to death Stevie. I don’t even know if he was breathing when we left.”

“Shit…” It’s all Steve can say.

It wasn’t the last time it would happen either. Sometimes he could control it, but sometimes he didn't even realize what he was doing. Steve would beat the guy half to death before Soda or Two-Bit or even Dallas would pull him off. It was like a red haze would go over his eyes and he would operate on auto-pilot. Letting anger take control as a form of self protection.

It had worked when he was a child and his father would beat him. He wasn’t sure if it was working now, but it was all he had.

So he bore those hungry flying fists and spiteful tongue… not like a cross but like an anchor. He would be strong where Soda couldn’t. He would protect this kids when Johnny and Ace couldn’t protect themselves.

So he would try to fight, but not so uselessly like he had done all his life. Now, he would fight with passion and purpose. He knew he’d spend the rest of his life fighting; the only difference now was that he would fight for something. Fight for his gang and his sister and Sodapop and all those little greasers who were too young to fight for themselves. He would never stop fighting but he would start fighting for something good. Maybe his mother was right about him being angry, but she wasn’t right about why.

Steve wasn’t angry for no reason. It was an important distinction.

Steve was angry because of his situation and the shit he’d seen in his life, the shit he’d let his sister go through. He was angry because of his abusive father and the way he’d always been second best.

But most of all, Steve was angry because they deserved more. Jonny deserved to not be so scared all the time and Ace deserved to have a childhood filled with love and Soda deserved a girlfriend that wouldn’t break his heart and Darry deserved to go to college and Dallas deserved to have family and Two-Bit deserved not to drink to escape and Ponyboy deserved his parents alive. They all deserved so much more.

And Steve was angry about all of it. Greasers were used to having nothing and Steve was no exception. He’d grown up fighting with nothing and nobody on his side. His anger was his only constant companion. Keeping him warm at night when his mother left and protecting Ace from whatever violence took place that day. The same hot anger that has burned holes through every memory he has.

Steve had his anger… as well as his flying fists and snarky comments.

So from that anger, Steve would fight. For his friends and his family and for a chance. Because though he may think he’s second best at everything, there is one thing he’s the best at. Steve Randle always gets up and fights for what he believes in.

#hope I used the semicolon right btw #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #steve randle #ace the outsiders #tilly evans krueger #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #dallas winston #johnny cade #the outsiders on broadway #tom cruise #renni anthony magee #steve randle they could never make me hate you #steve randle and his anger

22 notes · View notes

notmorbid · 13 days ago

Text

damnation spring.

dialogue prompts from damnation spring: a novel by ash davidson.

i've known rocks that talked more than you.

if you don't bet on yourself, nobody else will.

the past isn't a knot you can untie.

don't ever leave the house without a kiss goodbye.

you want some coffee, while you wait?

you gotta take a risk sometime.

i probably should have asked you a long time ago.

the fear is worse than the pain.

are you not attracted to me anymore?

i forgot how good it feels to have a secret.

there are too many ways to die out here.

if you let your mind wander, it could cost you your life.

what the hell kind of five dollar word is that?

i just do what they tell me.

kids are like puppies. it's easier with two.

they'll cut you with one hand and bandage you with the other.

look up 'careful' in the dictionary, and there you are.

keep your damn shirt on.

used to be, people looked out for each other.

one percent's not milk, it's water.

it's too easy to kill an idea by saying it out loud.

half the time, i don't know what i think until i say it out loud.

i never know what to do with my hands.

every day of a marriage is a choice.

you're always playing some kind of angle.

go to school. learn something.

what's the use of dredging all that up again?

when you get to be my age, you don't leave things till tomorrow.

there wasn't anything anybody could have done.

dogs are the best judge of people.

well, aren't you just as bright as a dime?

when was i ever young?

what are you so nervous about?

you never say a bad word about anyone.

people always say the wrong thing, don't they?

you're the one who never called me back.

you knew where i was.

are you going to tell my mom?

women have a way of passing bad news around.

can you walk on my back?

do you ever wonder what your life might have been like?

i figured i had time, you know?

the judge said it was self defense.

i watch out for my people. you know that.

keep it. i've got another copy.

don't be a stranger.

i thought you were up to no good.

it's not like the old days, is it?

you missed a hell of a show.

what are you doing for money?

smoke follows beauty.

my first word was 'son of a bitch'.

you never killed anybody?

the early bird gets his own damn breakfast.

if i shoot myself in the foot, i'll need you to carry me out.

i used up one of my nine lives today.

clean up your own mess, for once.

watch out for potholes. and assholes.

i had a hell of a time finding this place.

keeps the bible salesmen away.

when were you going to tell me?

you were my best friend, once.

a little rest never hurt anybody.

i'm so caught up in my own pain, i can't see anybody else's.

even a nice dog will bite when it's hurt.

you only get one life, sweet pea. live it happy.

look who the cat dragged in.

has your conscience caught up with you?

if you're shooting, shoot. don't make me dance.

you've been distracted for days.

you know something isn't right. what are you doing about it?

you're going to get hurt. you might even get yourself killed.

you're not alone in this.

people don't worry what they can't see.

it's important to do the right thing, even when nobody else is.

sorry doesn't pay the bills.

i judge a man by what he does, not what he says.

a threat? no. that's a promise.

what's wrong with me?

i hope you brought some sunshine.

careful now. some places you go, you can't get back from.

____ can go to hell. and so can you.

what do you gotta do to get some peace and quiet around here? die?

the roads are fucked. it's faster to walk.

what's wrong with you? you just do whatever they tell you?

right or not right, it's done.

would it kill you to just take my side for once?

where else would we go?

it looks worse than it is.

i've still got a few lives left in me.

you're all thinking it, but no one has the guts to ask.

whoever said you can't buy loyalty never spent a day here.

if you're smart, you'll get out of town.

it's okay to wander, as long as we always come home.

even an old dog can learn, if you're patient with him.

why would this time be any different?

what did you wanna be, when you grew up?

you don't have to watch me every minute of the day. i'm okay.

i forgot i was mad at you.

from outside, it looks like a normal house.

i can come stay for a while.

you ready for some help?

please don't hide from me.

i don't want to lose you. i can't lose you, okay?

nothing's wrong. i'm just happy.

not a lot of people are born to do something.

#rp memes #rp meme #sentence starters #ask memes #ask meme #inbox memes #historical meme #families

22 notes · View notes

klausinamarink · 1 year ago

Text

Easy Promises

rating: T | cw: cancer, mentioned child abuse | tags: pre-relationship, Steve has good parents, childhood friends, reunion, Theodore is Eddie’s full name agenda | wc: 956

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 14: Angst with happy ending

When Steve was eleven, he was told that he was going to die. Naturally, he burst into tears. His mother immediately pulled him to her chest, shushing him gently while his father yelled at their doctor.

“He’s just a child!”

“It’s important for your son to know that leukemia isn’t possible to survive-”

“Bullshit!”

Steve cried harder in his mother’s arms, even after they left the office.

Back home, his mother knelt down, looked Steve in the eye, and said, “You are going to live, baby. You are still going to grow up to be a smart, healthy man. You will fight that cancer and live.”

It was easy to make a promise. It was harder to follow through it.

After the urgent move to Indianapolis, Steve’s days fell into a blur of check-ups, medicine, throwing up, and exhaustion. He spent more days at the hospital than at his new school. He wasn’t sure which place was worse. The clinical words and smells with thin blankets and more sick children like him or the classrooms where apologetic teachers gave him too many lavish gifts while the other kids avoided him.

But there was one boy who declared himself as Steve’s buddy. Steve thought he would hate Theodore Munson, but he didn’t. Theodore (“Just Teddy! My full name makes me feel like I’m Roosevelt.”) never stared at Steve or asked about his leukemia or poked at his thin arms. Instead, Teddy always asked how his day went and listened to every word, even if it was a foggy repetition of hospital visits. If Steve said he was tired, Teddy never announced it to their teachers and just silently offered some cookies or juice under their desks. During recess and lunch, Teddy sat next to him and spoke excitedly about the new comics or movies Steve never had the chance to check himself.

It was always nice listening to Teddy talk. Way better than a doctor reading his statistics aloud like it was an eulogy.

When the chemotherapy inevitably snuck into his schedule, Steve cried and begged everyone to keep his hair. He was already The Kid With Cancer. He didn’t want his hair shaved off.

Nobody listened to him.

A couple days later, Steve wore a Reds cap. He refused to wear the knitted wool hat his Nana had made for him like he was five again. That would just push his classmates into bullying him for real.

He came to school late, not wanting to join the student crowd. He stopped when he saw Teddy sitting on the steps, his shaven head in his arms.

For a second, Steve thought that Teddy somehow knew and wanted to shave his hair in solidarity. And then Teddy looked up and he saw a nasty black eye. They stared at each other for a long time until both of their eyes welled up in tears.

“Your hair’s gone.” Teddy said wetly after they ran into each other for a hug.

“So ‘s yours.” Steve sniffs, daring himself to pat the buzzed scalp.

“My dad got mad last night.”

Teddy told him about his dad enough that his muffled words made Steve tighten his grip. “At least you’re not dying.”

Teddy barked out a wet laugh, “Just don’t leave me first.”

It was an easy promise to accept. Except it was already broken when Teddy never showed at school the next day. And then Steve was alone again.

—

I’m in remission. I still have a future. I’m going to live. Steve repeated that mantra to himself in his car, staring from afar at the ominous entrance of Hawkins High.

It had been a good year and a half since the doctors finally gave the good news. Steve was always a crier, but he’d only stared up at the ceiling in silent disbelief while his parents wept joyfully. The news never really hit him until two months later, when he touched an inch of new hair in the bathroom, and then sobbed and thanked God for letting him live.

Even if that little what if it comes back lingered in the back of his mind.

Now, he was thrown back to Hawkins, which included starting his sophomore year in person.

But old habits still stayed. Steve kept seated in his car and watched the other students walk inside while they laughed with healthy smiles. Even after the bell rang, he stayed. After a good five minutes, Steve’s courage returned and he stepped out.

He only took three steps when a van suddenly appeared, scaring the shit out of him with a blaring honk. Steve jumped back and flipped the driver off. “Watch it, asshole!” He stomped away, his mood broken further by the van’s door opening. Great, now he’s gonna be in a shouting match in front of the school-

“Steve?”

He froze. Turned around slowly.

Teddy, all dressed in some dark clothes with long hair. Teddy, who stared back at him with wide eyes. Teddy, Teddy, Teddy-

Steve wasn’t sure who ran towards the other first, but it was Steve who hugged the tightest and cried first.

“Holy shit,” Teddy laughed wetly in his ear, “Your hair-” He leaned away so his hands were placed on both sides of Steve’s head. They felt warm and oddly right. “You look so much healthier…”

Steve just smiled, a little blush in his cheeks as he said, “I got better.” He watched as the realization dropped on Teddy in real time. Then he was pulled into a more tighter and fiercer hug, already feeling a wet patch on his shoulder.

There were definitely lots of things they needed to catch up on. But Steve’s more contempt in sharing his warmth with his friend.

#klaus writes #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #tw cancer

118 notes · View notes

bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

Text

Woodstock 1999

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader

Summary: After attending a house party, thrown by your friend Summer, you end up meeting Rick. While making small talk, you tell him about the Woodstock 99' documentary that you had just seen and that you wish you could have seen Korn from that festival. Rick is confident that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself in a crowd like that. When you disagree, Rick tries to call your bluff. By taking you to an alternative reality where Woodstock 99 is taking place.

Word Count: 3k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sweeping the floors, finishing up your shift at the grocery store you worked at. It was Thursday and the store had been relatively quiet for most of the night. Only a couple more customers were wandering the isles, picking up last-minute items.. You were pretty tired, this started as a summer job but you ended up keeping it throughout the school year. It was nice to have extra money for clothes and outings with your friends, it almost made up for how depleting work was. You heard the assistance bell ring from the register, which prompts you to run over. You were pleasantly surprised to see Summer and her mom, you share most of your classes with the redhead. She has actually spent the night at your house a couple of times and vice-versa. You give her a quick mom and start scanning her items. Her mom was going on and on about how all the bottles of wine were for a family event, you looked over at Summer who was rolling her eyes. You held back a chuckle and continued to make polite conversation with Beth. After you bagged their groceries, Beth walked back to the car but Summer stayed back to talk.

“So obviously the family event thing was a lie but I am throwing a party tomorrow while my parents are doing this couple retreat thing. You should totally come,” Summer said.

“Yeah that sounds really fun, did you already invite half the school?” you joked while wiping down the counter.

“A lot of people are coming, yeah, but it’ll still be fun,” she said.

“Yeah for sure, do you want me to bring anything?” you asked.

“Just your hot ass and maybe a bottle would be cool. My mom is calling. I got to go but I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said while walking away.

Normally a house party isn’t really your scene but you were feeling kinda excited. For the past two months, you’ve been in a bit of a funk. Only going to school and work, not feeling up to doing your make-up most days, and dressing pretty bummy. You felt like a good party would break you out of that. Summer and you had a lot of mutual friends so you knew you would have company no matter what. You checked out the last customer and locked the door behind them. You grabbed some stuff for your lunch tomorrow and two bottles of Red Berry Ciroc. The store was owned by an older gentleman who sadly had dementia, his 29-year-old son now runs the store. As long as you gave him an extra ten for each bottle you bought he would look the other way when it came to age. You took an Uber home and immediately got in the shower. Scrubbing all the sweat off your body and lathering your hair in shampoo as Molly Kate Kestne’s Prom Queen blasted through a speaker. You stayed in the hot water until you felt at risk of passing out. You give your mom a kiss on the cheek, wishing her a good night before going to your bedroom. After turning on Jersey Shore as background noise, you fall asleep in your towel; completely worn out by your school and work week.

When you woke up, you were surprised that you slept through the night considering you didn’t get too comfortable before falling asleep. You were feeling extremely well-rested, it wasn’t until you were halfway done with your hair that you remembered about Summer’s party. You were super excited, you had this Saturday off which meant you didn’t have to worry about having a hangover. You throw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and start gathering things into your book bag. Once you got to school, you couldn’t stop counting down the hours until you could leave. It felt like years had gone by once it was finally time for lunch. You were sitting with a group of friends who were all talking about Summer’s party. Maybe it’s because you have a job but your friends seem a lot less mature over these past couple of months. It seemed like if it wasn’t posted or extremely extra then it didn’t happen. I don’t know, it just felt like they did everything for shock value or clout. You thought it was weird how upset they would get if they didn’t look good in a video of them taking a shot or not taking a picture with the blunt before it was smoked. Sometimes you wish you could record how they act during those times and show them later. You pick at your salad, tuning out of their conversation until the bell rings.

Once the last period ended you bolted out of the front doors and made your way home. You flat ironed your hair and started applying a bit of makeup. Rummaging through your closet, you ended up wearing a tube top and a pair of baggy cargo jeans. You grabbed one of the biggest purses you could find grabbed a tee-shirt and wrapped the two vodka bottles in a way that avoids any clanking sound. Your pen, make-up bag, charger, and a couple of other items. You end up walking to Summer’s house seeing that it’s only a 20-minute walk. When you got there, the sun was just barely setting and teenagers were flocking to the house. The house was practically shaking due to how loud the music was. When you walked in you practically had to wave a cloud out of your face. Summer immediately noticed you when you walked in and came over to greet you.

“Hey! Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you came!” Summer said.

“Yeah me too, I needed this really bad. Also.. here are those bottles,” you said, taking the vodka out of your purse.

“Wow, I didn’t think you were gonna bring anything. I’m gonna chill these,” she said, grabbing the bottles and leading you into the kitchen. When you walked in Rick was leaning against the countertop. She shoved the bottles deep into the freezer, in hopes of speeding up the process.

“If you can’t drink -burp- the liquor at room temperature you’re probably not mature enough to be drinking at all,” Rick said, taking a swig from his flask.

“What if we just prefer it chilled? Just because you can doesn’t mean you shouldn’t” you point out.

“Yeah, Grandpa and after I smoke I don’t like the way hot ass liquor feels on my throat,” Summer said, closing the fridge door.

“Doesn’t matter whether your liquor is cold or hot, your party is gonna suck since you put a ban on any of my friends coming. Seems a little like bigotry in my opinion,” Rick said.

Summer ignored him and led you to her bedroom where a girl from your school Tricia Lange was packing a bowl. You asked Summer if it was okay to leave the party unattended. She joked ‘That’s what Morty is for’ which made you and Tricia laugh. She offered you greens which flattered you, after cornering the bowl you handed it to Summer. Coming off a two-week tolerance break, the weed was hitting you fast and hard. You tilted your head up and blew the smoke up into the air. Tricia complimented you on how pretty you looked which made you blush because.. hello its Tricia Lange, one of the hottest girls in your grade. You guys were making small talk when Summer pulled out a pink crystal and started crushing it into a fine powder.

“What is that?” you asked.

“It’s a Kalaxian crystal, it’s pretty mild like snorting molly kinda,” Summer said, lining up the power.

“I.. don’t know about that,” you said looking at the powder suspiciously.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about it showing up on a drug test or anything. It’s not detectable with Earth’s drug tests,” Tricia said, setting her hand on your shoulder.

“No, well that’s good to know actually but imma need to see you take a bump before I do,” you said.

“You humor me,” Summer said, using a hundred-dollar bill to snort the powder, her eyes turning a baby blue.

Summer passed the tray to Tricia who mimicked her action. Your heart was racing as her manicured hands passed the tray over to you. Not wanting to come off as a prude, you took the rolled-up bill into your hand and brought it up to your nose. You sniffed the powder into your nose and coughed a little because the taste was so foreign. The two girls lead you downstairs where the party is now packed and a bit unhinged. Couples making out against any available wall space they could find, groups of people who were surrounding a person smoking out of a gravity bong. Drugs by Lil Aaron was blaring out of several speakers, drowning out almost every other sound. The three of you were dancing together in the living room with several of your peers. You were feeling so euphoric and magical; like you could float off the ground if you really tried. It was then that Summer reminded you of the Ciroc bottles that were in the freezer. All three of you took a shot and cringed as it went down. Summer and Tricia left to go to the bathroom leaving you in the kitchen. You were pretty intoxicated at this point and started to wander. You end up in the garage, where Rick is sitting at his workstation.

“Out!” he barked which caused you to jump and gasp due to how loud and aggressive he sounded, he didn’t even look up.

“S-sorry I -which way..” you started but Rick got up and walked over to you. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.

“I told Summer to stop giving K-Crystals to her little friends,” he said, seeing the effects from your eyes. You looked over a noticed he had a Woodstock 99’ ticket pinned onto his wall.

“You -hiccup- went to Woodstock 99? You- you’re so lucky you got to see Korn from that crowd,” you slurred without breaking eye contact. He laughed and let go of your chin and walked back to his workstation.

“Did you actually go?” you asked, walking over to him.

“I thought I said to get out earlier,” he said.

“I have selective hearing,” you said, picking up a screwdriver.

“I’m lost, is that supposed to be my problem?” he said.

“Well it -burp- if you really wanted it to be,” you giggled.

“Yeah as much of a catch as you are, I think I’ll pass,” he laughed.

“Oh please I bet I’d be the best pussy you’ve had in months,” you laugh but quickly change expressions as Rick stands up and towers over you.

“Do you really think that you would be an unachievable fantasy to me? Like I’m some sad old stockbroker who has to rely on naivety to get laid? Don’t insult me,” Rick said, taking a sip of his flask without stepping away.

“Your shirt -hiccup- looks so soft, imagine if we could have gone to Woodstock together. You’re so tall that I wouldn’t have to worry about guys reaching up and groping me and I would have the most amazing view of some of the coolest bands of all time,” you said, feeling your high slowly start to come down. He smirked at you before turning around locking the garage door and opening a portal, dragging you through it.

“What- where are we going?” you asked confused, adjusting your eyes to the suddenly sunny skies.

“To call your bluff. There’s no way you could last here, it was kinda a shit show if you didn’t know,” he said.

“I know, I watched the documentary on Netflix,” you said very matter-of-factly.

It took your eye a couple of minutes for them to adjust but once they did, you couldn’t deny you were a little taken back. There really was a lot of nudity and white-boy aggression. You hoped Rick didn’t notice, but every once in a while, you would look behind you to make sure he was nearby. The first thing you wanted to do was get to the airbrush body paint station. You wanted Korn written across your chest in black and pink. At this point, the high of the K-Crystals was completely worn off and all you wanted was a hit of something. It was then you realized you still had your purse, you blindly reached your hand in until you felt your hand hit the cold metal of the battery. Your mouth begins salivating as bring the cart to your lips and take a long drag, blowing it up in the air. You take a couple more drags and notice that the artist has stopped. When you looked down he was just looking up at you. He was probably in his early 30s and had a 90s haircut that was short and spiked with blonde tips. Without breaking contact take another drag and exhale as you speak.

“Sorry, did you want a hit?” you asked playfully, looking over at Rick who was smirking with his arms crossed, evaluating the situation. The guy airbrushing you looked up at Rick who started to speak.

“You know you didn’t come across to me as one of those girls who have nipple piercings,” Rick said.

“Yeah I know, they’re hot right?” you asked to adjust the one that didn’t have any paint on it yet; they were bars with a chain that supported a pink bedazzled saturn charm.

“So uh, Maria is gonna finish up our piece cool?” he said, getting up before either of you could respond which caused both of you to chuckle.

After you were finished up with the body painting tent you made your way to the main stage. Hundreds of teens and young adults were making their way to the exact same location. It was weird because even though you knew what was going to happen, you were still bubbling with anticipation. Rick laughed and mocked you because he knew you had seen exactly what happened and still bubbled with suspense and excitement. When you asked Rick if you could actually sit on his shoulders he didn’t say anything, only nodding in agreement. You were trying to pry about the first time he ever experienced this but he would always give you a bullshit excuse like he was too wasted to remember. As you walked, guys kept approaching you, trying hard to keep conversation. You tried to be polite and at least slow down as you respectfully deny their advance. You even stopped a couple of times but Rick would gently bump into you with his body from behind to keep you walking. Once you got into the crowd, Rick took the arm and pressed his body to your back. He started guiding and shaving his way through the front of the sea of people while having his arms raised, protecting you from the crowd.

Normally if someone was being more polite it would have taken forever to make their way to the front. Rick however wasn’t sparing any feelings as he pushed and shoved. As you people watched, you couldn’t help but take in how different people were in the 90s. One of the biggest things that tripped you out was seeing how different the hair and make-up were of the girls around you. Super thin eyebrows, a thick eyeliner waterline with clumpy mascara. Your lashes were huge and your nails were so long, it felt like everyone was staring at you. Most of the hair extensions were god-awful but you gave them a pass considering this was a festival. The cameras were so retro-looking and looked bulky on the crew’s shoulders. Rick pulled a plastic baggie of pink powder from his lab coat. You assumed these were the same crystals you smoked earlier so didn’t think twice when snorting your fair share. Only later to find out that it was actually Molly, normally you’d be freaking out but I mean… You were in an entirely different dimension. Seemed kinda late for that. Once the intro started, Rick bent down slightly allowing you to sit on his shoulders. You could feel the energy of the crowd growing. It was almost like your heartbeat was getting more intense as the music’s rhythm began picking up.

A camera was coming closer to you, you blew it a kiss and then took a drag of your pen. It could have been because of the drugs but you felt like you were so high in the air, you could see the top of everyone’s head.; like you were a skyscraper. You were truly having the time of your life, it was nice being able to be carefree. Being able to get as wasted or naked as you wanted knowing you had someone to take care of you. You were gently running your fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little bit. You leaned down and whispered into the top of his head,

“Thank you for taking me here, this is amazing,” you said.

He didn’t reply, just ran his hands up and down your leg, starting at your knees and ending at your ankles. You were feeling accomplished that he didn’t get the chance to call your bluff as he put it. When Korn wasn’t playing you could barely hear yourself think over how loud the crowd was. You couldn’t tell if Rick was mad or just concentrating. After a while, you were getting overstimulated by everything going on around you. You asked Rick if you guys could head home, and he opens a portal directly underneath you guys, dropping the both of you back into a garage. You grab the extra tee shirt from your bag and throw it over your body.

“Thanks, we should do it again sometime,” you said before exiting the garage to find summer.

#rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty #rick c137 #Woodstock 1999 #Rick Sanchez FanFic #Woodstock #Korn #korn band #Rick and Morty #alcohol #drinking #smoking #weed smoking #Rick sanchez x you #rick sanchez x y/n

178 notes · View notes