#because it's not their fault it's the adult's fault for shoving her in these boxes for public consumption

[heir-less]

I swear Charlotte will be twelve and her parents will still insist on dressing her like a four-year-old. This was the same issue with her Easter outfit as well, she's just wearing these oversized baby gowns. If you look at Trotter's Instagram, their main target is toddlers and babies, not older children.

And I hate it because people apply these shitty gender expectations on Charlotte based on how she's dressed. She's not allowed to wear shorts or shorter dresses without strangers on the internet saying it's "inappropriate". I feel like dressing her that way is often a way of appealing to those people and their regressive standards, I don't know, it irks me.

Ellie Hall wrote about what I'm trying to say HERE. A lot of it is the children being forced into their royal roles, at an early age they are forced to value traditionalism and a whole slew of regressive values associated with the monarchy.

[yeloenk]

Hi can u infodump about Vellum,, she’s so cool,, I want to know more about her,, and make headcanon about her,,(/nf ofc!!)

Yes, absolutely!!! Here's everything I have on Vellum so far!

Keep in mind, all of this is subject to change in the future. I plan on making a fully fleshed-out story for her! (Hopefully a comic!!!)

Lore starts after the cut !

------------------------------------

Backstory

Vellum, a child of Paperjam and Lux, is raised and trained to be an elite of The Paragon. Due to coming from a lineage of strong descendants, she is expected to be a prodigy—from the age of 10, her mentorship under Lux and Dream begins.

Vellum, as a child, is starstruck by the opportunity to start training; it is something she had been anticipating all her life. She was raised seeing her mother, Lux, help protect the Multiverse, and has always looked up to her. She has always believed in the greater good.

Vellum, growing up, showed having strong skills in both fighting and emotionally connecting with others, similarly to Dream. This is what led others to believe Vellum would eventually be Dream’s predecessor. This caused her relationship with the other members of the guard to be… strained, to say the least.

What is The Paragon?

The Paragon is a guard led by Dream, Guardian of Positivity. He realized that fighting alone against Nightmare and other multiversal threats bore fruitless; and thus, he created The Paragon, recruiting Out!Codes (usually from the Omega Timeline) looking for a purpose to join him.

The group’s intentions and focus is to maintain peace within the Multiverse, protecting it from threats.

It is split into two factions:

LUMINARES

The Luminares are the healers and positivity spreaders. Members are typically skilled in healing and connecting with others; they help AU’s that have been attacked by Nightmare return to normal, bringing as much positivity as they can. These are usually more pacifistic monsters/humans in nature.

STARSHEILDS

The Starsheilds are the warriors of guard. Members are typically knowledgeable and skilled in battle and weapons. Most members recruited are from the Omega Timeline, looking to avenge their fallen friends and family and fight back against their primary threat, Nightmare. This can result in Starsheilds who don't exactly fight for the right reasons. These are usually monsters/humans more violent or determined in nature.

Dream is a master of both spreading positivity and battle; he leads both factions. Lux was appointed as the Captain of the Starsheilds because she ended up being more naturally talented in fighting than healing/spreading positivity. Being the daughter of Dream, she is extremely strong.

Personality

Vellum is a primarily positive, hopeful person. She faces challenges with a strategic mindset, and she’s quite clever when coming up with solutions to conflicts. Her creative side from Paperjam helps a lot with this—she’s always one to think outside the box. She’s also quite analytical.

Although she was raised to be a warrior, she has a strong sense of empathy and compassion—to a fault. In her younger years (older teen - young adult), she isn't as ruthless as she is supposed to be; she often attempts to talk with enemies before resorting to fighting, persistently. Even enemies they have fought over and over again, enemies that show no chance of redemption. This led to hesitancy to fight, and has occasionally opened the door for Nightmare to attempt to manipulate her. Dream and Lux worked with her on this, teaching her to resist these urges and to put on a stronger front, just as they had to do.

She is fiercely protective of her family and friends. This determination to protect them—less so the multiverse itself—is what fuels her to keep going. She has learned to shove down her empathic nature when it comes to threats, and will stop at nothing to keep her loved ones out of harm’s reach.

She often takes things at face value, as in too literal. She struggles to understand sarcasm, metaphors, similes, etc. She also struggles to understand vague sayings; she needs clear and proper instructions if she is to do something correctly.

Despite easily being able to reassure and comfort others in their emotions, she herself is quite guarded. She struggles to open up about how she feels, which can lead to misunderstandings or distance within her relationships.

She can be bluntly judgemental to those who have differing ideals and values than her. She can come off as condescending in this situation.

When majorly criticized in her decisions, she can be overly defensive, shutting down or reacting aggressively instead of considering feedback. She’s stubborn in the ways she was taught, and will not be so easily convinced to change.

Familial Relationships

Lux: Vellum’s mother.

Vellum’s relationship with Lux started out as strained, since Lux was often busy with her job. However, once Vellum started training, she grew very close with her mom—she was Vellum’s primary mentor, and guided her through the same hardships Lux had to go through during her own training. Vellum has some mixed feelings regarding her role she was raised to be, and can sometimes put some of the blame unfairly on Lux. However, she loves her mother dearly.

Paperjam: Vellum’s parent.

Vellum’s relationship with Paperjam is strong, due to Paperjam being the one to primarily raise her for the first 10 years of her life. She loves Paperjam dearly, and sometimes confides in them with emotional conflicts.

Dream: Vellum’s grandfather.

Dream is more of a mentor/teacher to Vellum than a grandfather, and she holds the utmost respect for him and what he strives to do. Dream sees himself in Vellum, and tries his best to be a good grandpa/mentor.

Cross: Vellum’s grandfather.

Vellum is very close with Cross; he has been a major part of her life ever since childhood. As Vellum grew older, she confided in her grandpa about everything; her accomplishments, her failures, her feelings. Cross sees himself in Vellum, especially as she gets older. Being a weapon of war is something Cross is all too familiar with.

------------------------------------

Her design, in case anyone is unfamiliar with her:

[karizard-ao3]

My live reactions to Neon Genesis Evangelion episode 1: Angel Attack

Okay, so I watched this one a few months ago and remember liking it, but not a lot of other details. Also, I am so sorry, I am not doing timestamps. My TV is not readily showing them to me and I am not willing to put in the effort to find them :(

Oh, I don't think I noticed that random pastel haired girl out in the street the first time I watched it. Does the girl on the cover of the boxed set not have pastel colored hair? I know we meet her pretty soon and she's not doing so hot, but is she a psychic?

These air ships look like legless donkeys a little bit.

I like when angels are portrayed as bad.

It's already so clear the Shinji (?) is a neglected child.

The sound quality on this is so crisp. I don't even think I need subtitles.

Also, what was that photo she sent him? Does she not have a professional headshot or something? 😭

I liked the visuals of the scene with the car on its side and them poking their heads out like "Whoa!"

You fools! You absolute dipshits! Why would you think your basic ordnance could take out an angel?

Shinji is so judgmental. I love him. The look on his face is killing me.

Nothing here is pronounced how I would expect it to be pronounce.

Calling his son a spare. What a fucking bastard. My number one takeaway from when I watched the first two episodes before was that I hate that fuck.

Ritsuko and her swimsuit!

Again, this dude is a bastard.

I want you, Shinji. I'll adopt you and make you whatever you want for dinner.

Oh, Shinji. You're so brave :(

In Closing:

Okay, so I'm assuming there's a reason they are using children to operate the Evas and it probably is because they're brains are still developing or whatever, but the disregard the adults, especially Shinji's father, have for the well-being of these human children they're using for their own benefit is already wildly apparent. I get that it's humanity against the Angels, or whatever, but humanity is still hanging in there. They still have cars and cities and an underground military facility, and didn't they say at the beginning of the episode that it had been sixty years since they last had an Angel in Tokyo? It feels like these stakes are far less about saving humanity than they claim.

I also assume these kids have some sort of esp that allows them to operate the Evas. I mean, Shinji wasn't even plugged in when Unit 1 saved him, so they were clearly vibing on a metaphysical level.

I'm sorry, I can't get over how they didn't prepare him at all for the experience of operating the Eva, just shoved him in there and didn't even warn him about the oxygen gel? They just kept flinging very unpleasant and scary things at him (pilot the Eva, Shinji. Breathe the liquid, Shinji. Launch, Shinji) with no warning, and then basically telling him to suck it up when he's surprised/ frightened.

Where did the Angels even come from? Why do I feel like humans are somehow at fault for them, too? Like they were playing God or something and it came back to bite them in the ass. I assume I'll find out more later on, but I'm already predisposed to blame the adults. I also wonder if the kids apparent psychic abilities have anything to do with the Angels. Perhaps the experiments that led to the Angels led to the kids with abilities? (Unless I'm totally off the mark lol)

[vaulttecexec]

@janeyjhoward → ❝ don’t play the victim. ❞ the scene: they're talking abt the divorce w/young adult janey and someone did not react well. don't hurt me too much, mother. (x, accepting)

don't play the victim.

"what do you want me to tell you, janey? do you want me to tell you that i fucked up? that i miscalculated? it isn't his fault, and he had no part in it? i don't know what it is you want to hear." she rubs her brow, easing a budding migraine.

she'd asked, and barb wasn't going to lie to her. she was old enough to know what happened and why.

"i didn't intentionally hurt your father. i didn't go out of my way to ruin my own marriage. i didn't plan to be doing this alone. i didn't want to keep fighting, okay?" there's a sincerity there. she doesn't want to keep fighting now, either.

don't play the victim.

"and that? the fighting? it's all we did. for months, we fought about everything and nothing, and the only thing we could agree on was you, because the best thing i've ever done in my life is you. i'm sorry if i ruined your life and if i made things harder. trust me, it wasn't my plan to." she needs out of that office. they're rehashing feelings she shoved in a box to keep going.

don't play the victim.

"so, yeah, kid. i don't talk about him. i don't pit you against him to have you like me better, and i don't tell you he's an awful person, because i don't know him anymore. i'm not exactly his best memory, am i? i'm just the woman he thought he knew and ended up hating by the end of it all. " she says. "and it's easy for you to hate me, because i'm the one giving you all the rules, and the structure, and i work too much, right? that's fine, janey. you aren't the first howard to hate me. but what we won't do? what we aren't going to do is sit here and claim is that i'm playing the victim in shit, because i've owned up to what i've done. every time. do you understand me?"

so, having a young adult was worse than having a teenager. who would've known.

[cosmicjoke]

Idk, I believe I do, I red it, just didn't like it all that much. But, bro, holy shit, "you are judging him by today's standards" yeah, of course I do, because the context of time applies to the year of release, not the setting. He beats Eren more than once, the "to save his life" excuse doesn't apply to any shoving, pushing, intimidating, insulting and punching out ten of his teeth, because he dared to touch a syringe box. Yeah, "manhandled" by throttling. It doesn't matter what word you use to describe it, he still forcefully grabbed her by her neck. And no, "just physical discipline" does not apply, if the one you're disciplining is a fifteen year old under your legal care. That's abuse. Always and in literally any context. By that logic, Annie's father did nothing wrong either, because, back in the day, everyone would beat their kids. And not you saying that a twelve year old can volunteer to be a soldier, that's literally insane, c'monnnn 😭😭😭. Not even AoT itself stooped that low and somewhat criticized this mindset with Falco and Gabi. But you are right, I should probably leave, because, holy fuck. Have a good day, I genuinely hope you come around and stop praising military, one day.

You’re an unbelievable fool. I’m not praising shit, I’m giving context to Levi’s actions because, I don’t know if you can wrap your tiny brain around this, context and intention MATTER. You take Levi’s actions out of context to make him seem like something he’s not. And no, you can’t judge people of the past by todays standards. You have to judge them based on what was socially acceptable during their time. You must be 12 years old yourself not to know that.

Also, Levi didn’t grab Historia by the neck, he grabbed her by the collar. He punched Eren because he was directly interfering with the chain of command and wasting time. Eren was a soldier and he was directly disobeying a superior officer. Not child abuse. Jean isn’t under Levi’s “legal care” as if he’s some minor. He isn’t a “ward” as you tried to say. He’s a certified and trained soldier. Levi is his commanding officer. Just because the legal age for becoming a soldier in the US or wherever is now 18, we’re talking about a completely different time and culture. Obviously what was considered an adult in Paradis doesn’t match the standards of now, but to blame that on Levi and no one else shows your stupid ass bias. It was the system in place, one which Levi had no power to change. He was pressed into service himself, you jackass. But somehow it’s completely his fault for working with what soldiers they had. I guess he should have just quit, huh? Oh except he couldn’t because, again, he was pressed into service and him running away would only have accomplished all of their lives being placed in greater danger. And yes, they DID volunteer, regardless of age, and they chose what division they wanted to join at 15. Old enough in many countries to this day to be considered an adult. Your world view is obviously painfully limited. But then, you can’t even spell read correctly.

Again, you fool, you’re taking Levi’s actions out of context to make it seem like he was just randomly beating the shit out of helpless children for no reason, and again I repeat, you’re doing so erroneously to push your warped and negative narrative of who Levi is. You’re right, you should just fuck off now, because you aren’t worth anyone’s time with you’re misplaced and exaggerated sense of moral superiority. Send me any more messages, and they’ll go straight into the trash, so don’t even bother, you moronic clown.

[shubblelive]

— SECRET ADMIRER

— summary : niki liked putting notes in her crush’s locker during high school, it felt like a safe way of confessing her feelings. now an adult and living with that same crush, she works up the courage to send just one more note.

— genre : fluff! niki's a little anxious for the first bit but it gets better

— warnings : coming out scene (goes good!), swearing, mentions of eating/food, mentions of periods, reader is afab and uses she/her

— pairing : cc!nihachu x fem!reader

— featuring: cc!nihachu, cc!tommyinnit (mentioned), cc!tubbo (mentioned), cc!aimsey (mentioned), cc!ranboo (mentioned), cc!wilbur soot (mentioned)

— pronouns : she/her

— word count : 2.3k

— note : my first niki fic ever ahh!! niki's said that she's pansexual but just calls herself bi because it's easier to explain, but i've called her pan in this fic. if she says that she prefers to just be referred to as bisexual then i'll definitely change that. reader is a lesbian in the fic, but has only just come to terms with it.

She didn’t know why you hadn’t been home a lot lately, but Niki had a sinking feeling it was her fault.

It had started with you claiming you were going for runs in the morning, then when she was usually streaming you’d claim you had too much work to do to join her. Then you started skipping meals with her, which would make her worried if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d seen you eat. Just not with her. All of those things by themselves, while disheartening, weren’t anything to lose sleep over, but then you went out in the evening and didn’t come home until the next morning without so much as a text.

You and Niki had been best friends since you were kids. You told each other everything, from when you got your first period to when she got her first boyfriend. You were a mod in her chat, though you usually joined her for streams a lot more since you’d moved in together. Normally, if something was bothering you, you’d take some time to process it before confiding in her. But it had been a week since Niki had even spoken to you in person, and three days since your most recent text, even though you slept three feet away from her. 

Well, except for last night. She didn’t know where you were last night. Your car was gone when she’d gone to bed, and you hadn’t responded to her messages. When she got up the next morning, you were still gone. Or maybe you were gone again; there was a note on the kitchen counter.

Hi Nik,

Sorry about this, my phone died and I had to run out again. I’m safe I swear, so so sorry for not texting earlier. Gonna be with some friends for the next few days so you’ll have the place to yourself. Miss miss miss you.

You’d put a heart after your name, and Niki spent far too long looking at it. It wasn’t the first time either of you had done this. During high school, when one of you would have your phone taken off you by your parents, you’d get to school early and slip her a note. 

She did the same, but not for that reason.

You still had all of Niki’s letters, albeit you’d shoved them away and forgotten about them now. At the time, you’d been so excited, but that was years ago. She knew they were in a box in your closet, all signed the same way. Your Secret Admirer.

It was cheesy, she knew it, but it was also safe. Any other sign-off could have been linked back to her, and that would have been disastrous, especially since your school was small. News of her sexuality would spread like wildfire, and then she could run the risk of permanently losing you. 

She’d never actually talked about her being pansexual with you before. She didn’t know how to broach the subject and, after she’d started gaining a following, she assumed you’d find out from the internet. Despite the fact that she knew you would never judge her for anything, there was still that niggling feeling that telling you would end your friendship.

She couldn’t say any of this to you, though, especially since you weren’t there. She sent a quick ‘Love you, hope you’re having fun. Call me if you need’ text that you hadn’t opened, and streamed for a few hours instead, hoping to take her mind off it.

But when she finished up, she was looking for someone else to raid, settling on Tommy. As she went into his stream, she was met with you.

It wasn’t just you and Tommy. Toby, Ranboo and Aimsey were there too, and she had to hide her physical reaction to not alert the stream. She finished up her stream and resisted the urge to call you.

Why were you avoiding her?

You finally got home the next day, one of Ranboo’s hoodies on. She was sitting at the kitchen counter on her laptop, and you attempted to breeze past her with a quick hug and an excuse for needing a shower before she spoke up. “What’s going on with you?”

You looked so tired and stressed, that for a second she felt bad. She was reading too much into things, she was sure. You and her were together practically every second of every day, of course you wanted to spend some time with other people. But you sighed and rubbed a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, Niki,” you said, sounding so upset that it scared her.

She furrowed her eyebrows and you came and sat beside her. “I’ve been… I don’t know,” you shook your head, not knowing how to explain it in a way that wasn’t silly. She sat there patiently until you’d gotten your words sorted. “I’ve been trying to figure some things out lately, and I needed to be somewhere else. Don’t get me wrong, I love our place, it’s my home. You’re my home. But I think for me to kinda sort stuff out I needed to be away,”

“Sort what out?” she asked tentatively, not wanting to push too hard.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” you were fidgeting in front of her, and the thought made her sad. It was a nervous habit; you were never nervous in front of her. “And I wanted to tell you, but I think I just needed to figure it out before I could put it into words,”

She was trying so hard to be patient, but the longer you talked the more worried it made her. 

“I think I’m…” you shook your head, not happy with how uncertain you sounded. “I am a lesbian.”

Of all the things she thought you would say, that certainly was not one of them. She launched herself at you, and you faltered. “Thank you for telling me,” she said earnestly. “I love you, so much - of course I do. I thought you were mad at me,” 

You laughed and hugged her back. “No, no. I’m sorry I’ve been so shitty,”

Niki shook her head. “It’s okay. Thank you so much for trusting me with this information,” she didn’t know how grateful she was that you trusted her enough with information that could potentially ruin your life. 

“Thank you,” you replied. “For being the most wonderful person that I know. I’ve been really shit recently, and I had to talk to people who kinda… understood what it was like, and I just needed to get outside more,”

You didn’t have to explain it to her, but you needed her to know that it wasn't her.

She just nodded and hugged you again. "Don't apologise for needing time to figure yourself out," she said, cheek pressed into your shoulder. "It's okay. I love you,"

"I love you too," you said, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you held her.

After that, you were less distant. You weren't comfortable enough coming out on social media, but you'd started going on the occasional date. While you didn't stream, Niki's fanbase absolutely adored you, and you'd appeared on others' streams too, like Wilbur's, Jack's and, of course, Tommy's.

She was so proud of you, so glad you were comfortable enough in yourself to go on a date with another woman, but at the same time it made her stomach twist. 

She knew she had no right to be jealous, but she couldn't help it. One of your dates had walked you to the front door and from her position on the couch, Niki saw the way you flushed as she kissed you on the cheek.

You weren't confiding in her like you would when you were dating men, but that was because you didn't want to tell her that it had been going badly.

Niki had been so endlessly supportive of you ever since you came out, but there was always the chance that she could turn around with "it's not working because it's with women." 

So you both suffered in silence, but you were more or less back to your normal dynamic. Once, a few weeks after you'd come out, the two of you had been streaming, and you noticed a comment saying how cute you guys were, asking if you were dating. Neither you nor Niki commented on it, but someone else did — someone with text- to-speech.

Guys, just because Niki's pan doesn't mean she's dating every girl she streams with. They've mentioned how they're childhood friends, leave them be.

After the stream, you'd brought it up while doing the dishes. "Hey, did you hear that one TTS message earlier?"

Niki was poking around with the last of her dinner, and she hummed, not looking up.

"Are you… you know?" She looked up at you, and you recognised the uncertainty in her eyes. You rushed to reassure her. "It's okay if you are, of course! You just never said anything,"

Niki bit her lip and pushed her bowl away. "Yeah. I am," 

That was the last either of you spoke of it, but Niki felt something change between the two of you that she couldn't place.

Movie nights where you'd normally sit separately ended with legs tangled together in the middle of the couch. Times when she'd move past you would involve gentle touches as she brushed past. 

You were in the back of an Uber one afternoon when you'd made your move, snaking your arm across the backseat to lace your fingers through hers.

You stopped going on dates, and Niki didn't want to be too presumptuous, but she felt like this was all practically an invitation to make her move.

But the thought of actually doing something completely terrified her. So, she did it the way she knew best.

You had been out with Aimsey, the two of you striking up a quick friendship since you'd met him on stream. She was actually the first person you'd confided in, knowing that she was a lesbian herself. They'd given you plenty of advice, and you found them easy to talk to, and he swiftly became one of your closest friends.

You shrugged off your hoodie, which had actually been one of Ranboo's that she'd stolen and collapsed on your bed. Your head hit the mattress and made an unfamiliar crinkle sound. 

Without getting up, you blindly looked around for whatever it was with your hand, assuming it was just a random piece of notebook paper you'd left. Instead, it was an envelope, pastel pink with neat black handwriting on it.

It wasn't the first time you'd seen an envelope like this, but the last one had been the last year of secondary school. You slid off your bed and searched your closet for a minute before finding the rest of them. The handwriting matched — not exactly, but enough.

Hi, 

I'm not really sure of the best way to do this, so please bear with me. You're my best friend, you have been for years. I can't tell you how much I value your friendship, and I would never want to do anything to ruin us.

After everything with Wilbur, I decided that I didn't want to be shipped with my friends any longer, not when I saw how people were. But when I saw that donation shipping me with you, well. It didn't feel like it did with Wilbur.

You mean the world to me, which is why I need to be honest with you.

I like you a lot. I have for a while now, but ever since you came out as gay, those feelings have gotten stronger. I guess it's because I realised I might have a chance.

I know this is a whole lot, so you can take as much time as you need. I hope I haven't ruined our friendship, and I'll be there for you in whatever way you want me to be.

Love, 

Niki (Your Secret Admirer)

God, how did you not see it? You spent years copying that exact handwriting and you'd never put two and two together. 

You folded the letter carefully, just as it had been before, before sliding it back into the envelope. You placed it in the box with the others and ventured down the hall to Niki’s bedroom. You could hear music playing faintly, which meant she most likely wasn’t streaming. You knocked and when you opened the door she was sitting at her computer typing a discord message to someone. You waited until she’d sent it and closed the tab until you spoke up. “Hi, Nik,”

She gave you a nervous smile, unsure if you’d seen the letter yet. “Hey,” The two of you looked at each other for a second, nervous smiles on both of your faces as you tried to think of what to say. “Everything okay?”

You nodded at her, before finally giving her a proper smile. “Your handwriting hasn’t changed much since high school, has it?”

You were rewarded with a beaming smile in return, Niki’s cheeks turning the exact colour of the envelopes she’d given you. 

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[honeybunpeter]

I saw this post from @starker-secrets and had to write something.

"I need more of Tony spying on Peter thru his suit"

Hope you enjoy :)

~~

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmitting audio that the Baby Monitor Protocol has flagged as potentially distressed. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yeah, give it to me FRI.”

Gasps sounded through the suit’s speakers as Tony flew from the partially built upstate facility back to Avengers tower. It sounded at first like Peter was in pain, and Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach as he sped up. But then a soft moan filtered through, and Tony’s heart dropped even further. Faintly, he could hear slick noises, softly squelching in the rhythm a fist would make over an approximately 5.4 inch long object. Peter wasn’t in distress. Quite the opposite in fact.

Tony’s dick got hard so fast it made him dizzy. He faltered slightly in his flight, overcorrecting when he tilted.

Peter was apparently done with his patrol for the day, if this audio was anything to go by.

A student at NYU, Peter had refused Tony’s offer of a fully paid tuition, and was instead paying for his schooling himself. Because of the whole Neighborhood Spider-Man deal, he couldn’t work enough jobs to pay for both an apartment and the tuition, and have enough time to be Spider-Man and a normal student, so he had accepted Tony’s offer of an apartment. He had initially refused that as well, but after Tony cited his endless supply of wealth, as well as Peter’s need for privacy due to his costumed alter-ego, Peter reluctantly accepted.

That privacy was now being used to its full advantage. The moans currently caressing Tony’s ears were increasing in both volume and frequency.

Feeling guilty and more and more like the creepy old man he pretended not to be, Tony was about to open his mouth to tell FRIDAY to cut the sound, when the slick noises suddenly sped up.

Peter, alone in his apartment that Tony bought for him, jerking off while wearing the suit Tony made for him, was about to come, and Tony was going to hear the whole thing. Fumbling, Tony put the suit in FRIDAY’s control, not trusting his unfocused eyes and racing heart to steer him home. Breathing hard, he turned his full attention to the delicious noises echoing in his helmet.

“Unh, fuck. Ah— ah— ah—“

Peter cut off with a gasp, before he stopped breathing entirely. After a silent, expectant moment, his voice broke on a loud moan as he presumably came, all over his multi-million dollar suit.

Tony’s dick was currently trying to poke a hole through the hard metal casing of his own suit. He was aching, literally aching, to get home and peel it off, and finally indulge in the thoughts he hadn’t let himself think for the past year.

Listening to Peter’s heavy breathing as he recovered, Tony thought back to when he first met Peter.

Freshly eighteen and a new freshman in college, Peter was understandably scared when Tony dropped into his dorm room to accuse him of vigilante-ing, and to ask him to help in Germany. Tony knew Peter had an aunt in Queens, and he was considering using her as leverage, when Peter agreed to fly to Leipzig and miss a week of classes. He had done well, had helped Tony try to keep the Avengers together (which actually did nothing but tear them further apart, but that was in no way Peter’s fault), and had gone back to his dorm room with Tony’s promise of a call.

Of course Tony had found Peter attractive. With big eyes framed by thick lashes, a strong and muscular body hidden under large hoodies and sweatpants, with a bright and easy smile, he was charming in his excitement and naïveté. He was almost too pure, his rosy cheeks and soft skin so obviously a metaphor for an angel it could hardly be called a metaphor anymore.

Peter was legally an adult, yes, but Tony was his mentor, and Peter was almost thirty years Tony’s junior. He didn’t have the weight of thousands of lives and a failed marriage and a broken team dragging down his shoulders like Tony had, either. That shit aged you.

So Tony had locked his impure thoughts away in a little box in his brain, only taking it out sometimes to look at it, but never to open it.

But now, the little box had been blown wide open, and all the thoughts Tony had smothered were back in full force. Thoughts like how Peter would look with tears of pleasure beading at the corners of his eyes, how he would look with cum splattered on his cheeks, how he would moan high and pretty when Tony licked him just so, how his lithe back would arch, how his mouth would drop open when Tony first pushed inside him, how he would look up at Tony in rapture, with love in his eyes— No. That was too far. Tony couldn’t afford to think like that.

When Peter’s breathing finally evened out, Tony cleared his throat and said, “Cut the sound, FRI.”

Taking control of his suit back once he reached Manhattan, Tony angled his way down to the landing pad of the tower. Once he landed the suit opened up, letting him stumble his way out on trembling legs. His slacks were uncomfortably tight. Finally making it back to his room and collapsing on his bed, he shoved his hand down his pants, closed his eyes, and let his hind brain take over. Trying to ignore the guilt settling like acid in his stomach.

—

Peter had known for weeks about the Baby Monitor Protocol. He didn’t know if it was just tracking his location, or sending information, or even recording, so he did a little hunting. Finding in the code and his suit only a tracker and an outgoing connection to the microphone in his mask, he figured that Karen was constantly transmitting audio and general location information to FRIDAY.

Swinging between buildings on his way home one afternoon after patrol, he thought about what that meant. It made him a little hot under the collar knowing that Mr. Stark could hear everything he was doing when he was wearing the suit, could be listening at all times. Listening to Peter helping old ladies across the street, saving a man from a mugging, panting with exertion— would he think his heavy breathing was from something else?

The thought made Peter miss his next web shot and he had to scramble to make sure he didn’t smash into a street lamp. Warmth bloomed into his cheeks and down his neck. His suit was starting to feel uncomfortably tight, and he swung faster.

Making it to his living room window, he dropped in on silent feet. He stumbled his way to his couch, slumping down until his head was resting on the back of it. Opening the secret seam at his waist Mr. Stark made when Peter complained about needing to pee when he was patrolling (and God what Mr. Stark would say if he knew what it was being used for now—) he slipped his hand in to palm at his aching cock. Groaning in relief, he closed his eyes and gave in to the pleasure.

What if Mr. Stark were listening? Would he be disgusted? Would he turn off the audio as soon as he knew what Peter was doing? Or would he be intrigued, aroused, at the thought of Peter defiling his multi-million dollar gift?

Peter did just that when the thought popped into his head, sending streaks up his chest almost to his masked chin. Body still jolting in the aftershocks, what he just did finally registered in his head.

Gasping in panic this time, rather than pleasure, he ripped his mask off and flung it across the room, peeling his suit off next. What was he thinking? There was no way Mr. Stark would he anything other than disgusted with what he heard, if he heard it at all. Not to mention, Peter had violated Mr. Stark. Guilt and panic started to clog his throat, and he resolved to never do it again.

—

A few weeks later, Peter relaxed back on his bed and pulled his mask off. He wiped his sweaty hair off of his forehead and grinned. Fuck. That was good.

He wasn’t sure if Mr. Stark was listening, but honestly it didn’t matter, because that was one of the best orgasms he’d ever had. He’d imagined that Mr. Stark was teasing him, was keeping him balanced on the edge, whispering how Peter’s pleasure was his, his to create and control.

After the last time he jerked off in the suit, he had resolved to never do it again. But that was only until Peter saw the way Mr. Stark watched him. Peter wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, imagining something he only wished was there, but he could almost feel the heated gaze Mr. Stark sent him tingling down his spine. When they worked in Mr. Stark’s workshop side by side, Peter modifying his web shooters and Mr. Stark tinkering on his cars, or making an entirely new Iron Man suit, or just generally flitting between projects, Peter felt that Mr. Stark was doing a lot more tripping over his feet and burning his fingers than actually paying attention to what he was doing. Peter liked to imagine that this distraction was because of him, and not because of something else.

So Peter decided to do what Peter does best; solve the shit out of this problem. After class he changed into the tightest shirt he owned, and some gym shorts with a 5-inch inseam, ones he only bought because MJ slipped it into his basket at Target when he wasn’t looking. He felt distinctly uncomfortable on the subway to Stark Tower, but the thought of Mr. Stark’s (hopefully) flustered face was enough to steel his resolve.

He wasn’t disappointed. Mr. Stark practically did a spit-take when Peter walked out of the elevator into the workshop, eyes tracing up and down his body.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, dropping his backpack off at his work station and sitting down, projecting a casual air.

“H-hey, Peter.”

Peter grinned down at the desk top. Mr. Stark never stuttered. That was almost a written confirmation of his hypothesis in Peter’s eyes.

The next night before his patrol, Peter settled down onto his bed, wearing his mask but no suit, preparing to have a fantastic next hour.

Which he definitely did.

—

In the weeks that followed the first time, Tony felt unbearably dirty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How Peter’s moans sounded. How he might look, wracked with pleasure, his face slack and pink mouth open, eyes rolled back. Peter’s moans and pretty gasps haunted his every waking moment, and most of his sleeping moments too. He’d often wake up with sticky boxers, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. A teenager like Peter, oh god.

He’d taken to wearing an earpiece, not visible of course, that connected directly to FRIDAY in case he was out of the tower or away from his suit when Peter next indulged in, ahem. Some personal time.

But it hadn’t happened again since the first time. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. Maybe if Tony didn’t hear it again he would stop thinking about it. Maybe then he could go back to pretending he wasn’t that creepy old man. Who was he kidding, he still was. Peter had walked into the workshop the previous day wearing very short shorts and a tight shirt, his tan legs and leanly muscled chest taunting Tony as they worked. But he could at least try to not creep on Peter electronically.

“Sir, Mr. Parker’s suit is transmi—“

There goes that.

Tony looked around the hallway he was in in the upstate facility, and snuck into an empty conference room. He quickly locked the doors and asked FRIDAY to black out the windows.

“Let me hear it.”

Moans filled his ear again, closer this time, more intimate. It sounded also as if the audio was clearer. Tony could hear more things now. Like how Peter’s breath would hitch on a moan right after the slick noises of his fist slowed down or stopped entirely— was he teasing himself? would he like to be teased for hours if Tony were there? Tony could bring him to the edge over and over, watch the flush move down Peter’s cheeks to his chest, watch his cock twitch every time Tony let go, watch tears of frustration start to fall down his pretty face—

—and how there was also the dry rasping sound of skin on skin, followed by a sharp gasp— was he caressing his chest, running his fingers over his nipples, pinching them? twisting them? did Peter like pain? would he like it if Tony sucked dark bruises all over his body, biting them deeper, leaving his mark—

(—it didn’t occur to Tony to wonder why Peter’s chest was bare but the suit was transmitting audio, meaning Peter was wearing the mask and only the mask—)

—and this time when Peter was about to come Tony heard that the sound of his fist moving over his cock stopped, and instead there was a softer sound, quick and frantic but still gentle and wet— like Peter was rubbing his first two fingers on the spot right under the head of his cock, the most sensitive part, like he was letting the heat build and build rather than letting it take over immediately, letting the warm ache spread out into his pelvis and thighs and lower back, building and building, until the pleasure became too hot and he had to wrap his fist back around the head and squeeze gently, gasping through the waves and waves of pleasure—

Tony gasped through his own orgasm, not realizing that he’d snuck his hand down his slacks while he was listening. He shivered as he came back down.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck. Fuck.” Tony cursed quietly under his breath as he carefully pulled his hand from out of his boxers. “Cut the sound, FRI.”

He looked down at his dirty hand, wondering how he was going to get out of this room and hallway undetected.

“What the hell am I doing?”

—

Peter jerks off in the suit several more times over the next few weeks, each time so full of mind-melting pleasure it leaves him gasping for minutes after. His guard is starting to drop, the idea of Mr. Stark hearing him, and his fantasies of Mr. Stark being there, have made him reckless.

It all comes to a head one Thursday night. Peter had just received an A on one of his midterms, and wanted to reward himself (not that there was any chance he wouldn’t do well on the midterm, but it’s the thought that counts), so he settled in for a long, luxurious jerk-off session.

“Uh— uh— yeah—“

Fuck it felt good. If only Mr. Stark were here. He’d trace his fingers up and down Peter’s flanks, nip possessively at his neck, cover Peter’s fingers on his cock with his own. He’d wring the pleasure out of Peter so skillfully and thoroughly that Peter would be able to do nothing more than shiver and cry under his calloused hands.

Forgetting himself, and who could be listening, Peter gasped out “Mr. Stark—“

“Calling Mr. Stark now,” came Karen’s cool voice.

Eyes popping open Peter yelped, frantically shouting “No! Wait—“

With a gentle bing, the phone call connected. Fast and heavy breathing followed by Mr. Stark’s unusually rough and breathless voice filled Peter’s ears.

“…Peter?”

[atsukashii]

Hi is it ok if I request y/n x kuroo & she/her & ☀️ & pink please?

smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover gon' pop like trouble breaking into your heart like that

✘ hey google: how do you tell if a guy is flirting with you?

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: aged up characters, bookshop au

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

“I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks.”

Closing your work locker, you raise an eyebrow at the familiar six foot, raven haired guy, who smirks down at you as if he just won first prize. In cringe worthy pick up lines? Yeah he can take that medal.

“Are you calling me a snack?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“Will you go out with me if I say yes?” Kuroo asks again, wagging his eyebrows at you teasingly, and you immediately know he’s messing with you.

“Not a chance.” Offering him a scathing glare, you spin on your heels and slip out the front door of the shop. When you’d first gotten the job at the small bookshop near your house, you'd have been ecstatic. Although you’d been less ecstatic about your new colleague who you’d never met before in your life, but had been slipping you cheesy and corny pick up lines every day for months.

You didn’t even know that there were that many ways to flirt with someone, but alas, Kuroo proved you wrong every shift. At first, you’d been a flustered bumbling mess trying to come up with a response, but as you caught on to how his hazel eyes glinted with untamed mischief, you’d decided that Kuroo wasn’t your favourite person.

That wasn’t to say that you by any means hated the guy, there was no way you could when he was literally one of the nicest people you’d ever come across in your life. He held doors open for you, and would volunteer to carry the new boxes of stock out back because they were heavy - although you had an inkling that was partly to show off. In the end, Kuroo is sweet, kind, and hilarious. But he thinks that hitting on you every day, and asking you out as a joke is also hilarious.

And it’s hilariously pissing you off.

Because somewhere down along the way, between the angel references and calling you a ‘cute-cumber’ you’d found yourself smiling at the lines. You found yourself anticipating getting to work shifts with him, just to see him and for the chance to witness the familiar rogue smile and the pure giddiness that emits from his very being.

But to him, it was a joke. And that left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Adjusting your bag once more, you try to slide the store door closed behind you to keep the aircon inside - a stark contrast to the summer heat bearing down on you. Before it can close completely, a hand rolls the glass door to a stop and you find yourself once again looking up into hazel eyes.

“Not finished?” You snipe back, having reached your quota of fake flirting for the day. Kuroo doesn’t flinch at your tone, or maybe he just chooses not to notice judging by the smile that graces his face. Maybe, just maybe you could eventually get over him. It’s not going to go anywhere, if it was going to, he wouldn’t have waited literal months to make a move. So maybe, you can let him go.

“Oh I have plenty more for you princess, but I just thought you might want this first.” In his hand is a copy of the book you’d been reading behind the counter of your shifts. Blinking twice, you realise it’s got similar dog eared pages and a crinkled spine from continuous use - that's your book. Instinctively you peer into your bag on your shoulder, and alas, it's empty. With an empty mind, you take the item from Kuroo’s outstretched hand, and offer him a quick thanks as you try to swallow the emotion in your throat.

“You’re most welcome. Walk home safe, I'll see you tomorrow princess.” Kuroo responds with a rogue wink that has you flushing from head to toe. His knowing grin proves that was the response he was looking for, so you quickly shove the book in your back and practically run from your work - swearing that you can feel his gaze on you the whole way home.

Yeah, there’s no chance you’re going to get over him.

This is cemented on your next night shift. You stand behind the counter, your eyes glancing up from the book you’re reading to the group of teenage girls giggling amongst the young adult isle. Really, it should be an actual law for people to be as quiet in bookstores as they are in libraries.

The door opens once more, and you begin to groan internally at the thought of even more rowdy teenagers coming in, but instead Kuroo slinks through the door in all his six foot two glory. Dressed in his work shirt, some black jeans and his usual sneakers, he looks good and the bastard knows it from the raised eyebrows he shoots you when he catches you looking. You don’t reply, but instead turn back to your book, ignoring him and the gaggling teenagers who suddenly shut up as he walks past them to go to the back room. You can’t blame them as their eyes stay glued to his every movement. Kuroo walks like he was meant to carry the world on his shoulders, but instead spins it like a basketball on one finger. As if the most difficult things for him are effortless. Like a god amongst men. Okay, let's not go that far. If he ever heard that, his ego would asphyxiate everyone from here to the south pole.

“Do you like my shirt?” Kuroo’s question has you turning around before you can stop yourself, but you’re all levels of confused as he holds the hem of his shirt in pinched fingers away from his body. His shirt? It’s his work shirt…

“Uh it’s your work shirt…” You manage to mumble out, brows still furrowed, completely baffled.

“Yeah but its made of a different material.” He points out, moving closer to you, only looking up from his shirt and to you when he’s standing only a few feet away. “Boyfriend material.” His grin is actually blinding, so you’re not sure if you’re squinting from that, or from the way you scrunch up your nose in distaste at his line.

“I hate you.” You grumble, turning away and looking down at your book once more, letting your hair fall over your cheeks to hide the flush splashed brightly across them.

“Hate me? Why must you hurt me so princess?” Kuroo jokes, and you find yourself getting more and more disappointed as he grows quiet and begins to start on his own work for the shift. It’s not until you both notice the gaggling girls practically drooling on the floor at him that you decide you need to take your break.

Closing your book loud enough to startle the group of girls and the guy flicking aimlessly through a volleyball magazine at your side. “I’m going for my ten.” You offer in explanation as you try to move out back. You don’t get to even make it past the counter before there's a warm hand wrapping around your own. Kuroo’s hand completely engulfs yours in the best ways and you can’t help but gape at it as it pulls your walk to a stop.

“Are you alright?” He asks, drawing your eyes reluctantly from your entwined hands to his face, and once you spot genuine concern there, you hesitate with your response. How do you say that no, you’re not okay because would you be if the person that you liked jokingly asked you out on a daily basis for months on repeat? But never meant it?

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Kuroo doesn’t let go just yet, but instead scratches the back of his neck with his other hand nervously.

“You know, if I'm honestly bothering you, please tell me. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable y/n,” He offers, shame and hurt flashing brightly in his eyes - and it shocks you stupid for a few seconds. It takes you an added moment that he’s talking about his teasing. Wait, he thinks he’s bothering me? Is he?

“Kuroo, if it was bothering me I would have told you alright?” You say softly, your gaze drifting back to your hand. “I mean sure sometimes it can be a bit much but that's mainly because I'm an idiot.” Not expecting those words, Kuroo’s nerves bleed into a confused frown that has you wanting to reach up and thumb away the line between his pinched brows.

“An idiot? Princess, if what I'm saying is bothering you-”

“It’s not what you’re saying that’s bothering me, it’s the joking.” The second the words leave your mouth, you wish you could reach out, grab them, and shove them back down your throat, because the way Kuroo drops your hand as if it burnt him hurts more than you thought it would.

“Joking?” His tone is utterly perplexed, and this time, you’re the one looking back at him with confusion. A loud laugh barks from his chest and you immediately feel embarrassed for absolutely nothing. Kuroo is laughing so hard and obnoxiously that tears actually crest the corner of his eyes, and at this rate you’re ready to just walk out the door if it means you don’t have to deal with this embarrassment for another second.

“You mean to tell me, that all this time you thought I was joking?” Kuroo gets out between laughs, and you feel your stomach drop at his words. What does he mean did you think he was joking? Was he not?

Your silence is answer enough because he runs a hand through his thick dark hair and leans back on the counter behind him.

“Jesus Christ Y/n!”

“You would laugh at me after you said them!” You defend, pointing an accusing finger in his way. How could you not think he was joking when he’d laugh at you, his whole being the very embodiment of mischief when he would say his lines.

“Because your face would go red and you’d tell me I was an idiot under your breath, because it was cute!” Kuroo rebuts right back, trying once more not to laugh, and you can’t help but groan. You cannot believe that this entire time, he was actually trying to ask you out on a date. Well, you can’t fault his perseverance and tenacity.

“Kuroo,” you grumble, bridging your fingers and pressing them to your forehead in thought, just trying to calm your raging heart at the fact that this is happening.

“Y/n,” he grins right back, and you can feel him closing in on your position before you can even see him. But once you open your eyes again, letting your hands fall from your face, Kuroo’s stunning features are right up close and more beautiful than you’d thought.

“Does this mean that you’ll go out with me when I ask this time?” You really do try for your pride's sake to not flush at his words, but heat still crawls up your neck and Kuroo’s growing smile tells you that your mental attempt to stop it isn’t working.

“Yes, I will.” You say, letting the smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

“Good, I'll remember that for my new line tomorrow.”

✘ A/N: more fluffy kurro for ya day, y'all i am l i v i n g for this man rn

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

A Whole New Ballfield: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Nine:

"Uh," Bucky started, but stopped himself. Clearly not sure what to say nor how to say it.

Admittedly, Steve couldn't help but think that the single syllable was enough. Especially in that moment. Really, both men should've known better. Suffice it to say, Kit was a hopeless romantic that fell, "in love," at the drop of a hat.

Of course, that didn't stop Steve from feeling terrible as the six of them stood in the tense kitchen. Remember this for the next time you try to pull a Natasha and set up a couple, Steve ridiculed himself. No one else is going to be as successful as you and Bucky. Even if you two being compatible was a lucky guess.

"Ya know," Steve started, gaining the attention of Carmen and Huxley. Pointing at the box of veggie burgers, Steve suggested, "Bitsy is a whiz at the grill. She'll fix you right up. She'll make sure that they'll be done first, so you won't have to worry about the beef... juices... contaminating them."

Huxley glanced away from Steve to Kit. Reassuringly, Kit nodded and went to follow their friend. However, that really wasn't what Steve had been trying to get at.

Thankfully, Ollie could tell. Probably because he remembered being on the other side of these conversations. So, the pregnant omega wiggled off the stool and told their guests, "I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Steve gave his son an appreciative smile when they locked eyes at the French doors. Then, Steve turned so he could look at his other child. His child who seemed absolutely and completely bewildered.

"Why is Carmen here?" The young adult asked as soon as the back door closed.

"Are you kidding me?!" Steve threw his arms up in exasperation. Keeping his voice low, he ranted, "You spent the past two weeks gushing about how this girl is the greatest girl there ever was and how she was The One! So, when I bumped into her –"

"When did you bump into her?" Kit asked, brows furrowed.

"It doesn't matter," Steve bypassed the question entirely and continued "– I invited her over. If I had known you'd bring someone else over, I never would've suggested it!"

"Well," Kit started, "If I had known you'd pull a yenta, I never would've said anything!"

"Sunny," Steve sighed, deflating, "Sunshine, I don't want you to keep stuff to yourself. I love hearing about everything that goes on in your life."

"Everything that goes on?" Kit exaggerated their face into a wince of embarrassment.

Shoving the twenty-one year old's broad shoulder, Steve said, "You know what I mean. I don't want you to be a stranger."

"I know," Kit assured, relaxing. Then, because they were still the same little shit that they had always been, they half-joked, "But I think you're really going to like Huxley."

Playfully Steve rolled his eyes while Bucky barked out a laugh, tugging the younger alpha into his side. And while Steve was happy with the faded tension in the air, he was still annoyed by the twenty-one year old. Especially since the current predicament made the omega feel so guilty.

"So, what n–" Kit started, only to stop when something – someone – caught their eye. Brows furrowing, they asked, "What's Leigh-Anne doing here?"

Still feeling a little salty about the current situation, Steve teased, "Don't tell me you have a crush on her too."

When the twenty-one year old didn't say anything, Steve quirked a brow. It was written all over their reddening freckled face. Steve threw his arms up again in his continued exasperation. All the while, Bucky pulled the young alpha even closer so he could give them a noogie.

"What is wrong with you?" Bucky joked, ignoring the giggled pleas from Kit.

"I can't help it," Kit managed once they were let loose. Fixing their tousled hair so it looked more intentional, they continued, "It's not my fault that I have so many incredible people in my life!"

"You're lucky you're cute," Steve told his kid, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade.

Of course, just as always, Bucky took the nearly-full container from him. Even at the ripe old age of sixty – and with a new hip – wasn't going to stop the alpha from doting on his mate. As he started towards the back door, Steve stayed back to fall in line with Kit. The young alpha sheepishly rubbed at the back of their neck, clearly wanting to say something, but not knowing what or how.

"C'mere," Steve opened his arms. All of their children were affectionate, but Kit was always the biggest cuddle bug. Now, twenty-one years old, they remained that same cuddle bug and readily accepted the physical affection. Even if Steve was shorter, Kit still made themselves fit within their omega father's embrace.

"Next time, you'll know better than to throw around such meaningful titles," Steve half-teased.

"Alright, alright," Kit chuckled, holding their hands up in surrender. "But Huxley..."

Shaking his head, Steve rolled his eyes and playfully elbowed them in the gut. Of course, Kit being Kit, they played it up and clutched at their abdomen theatrically. And since Kit not only fell for anyone who was worth a damn, they were also very easy to fall for. A single glance around the deck and the young alpha's companions was proof enough. Especially with how both Huxley and Carmen glanced over at Kit with adoration and dopey smiles.

Standing on his tiptoes, Steve kissed Kit's stubbly cheek before letting the kid get back to entertaining their guest. Well, guests.

"Hey, Kit-Kat, how nice of you to join us," Leigh-Anne greeted, a large toothy grin on her face as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"Damn. Thought I'd be able to escape you on the weekends," Kit replied, taking a seat next to Huxley. "'The hell you doing here, Hollywood?"

"Atticus Harold," Steve reprimanded, but didn't need to. Instead of being offended by the Barnes family member, Leigh-Anne just snorted.

"I don't know. Doth protest too much," Leigh-Anne joked. "I think you missed me."

Kit tossed their head back to laugh, and Steve noticed how Carmen shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Especially after she glanced across the table to watch Kit nonchalantly drape their arm along the back of the chair that Huxley was sitting in.

Steve deflated, hating that he was the one who did this to the poor girl. Thankfully, Nevie must have noticed too because she decided to start a conversation with the older girl. First, just casual, "What're you going to school for." But eventually, the conversation turned into the two gushing over all the cool things that science could do. And after a while, Carmen stopped glancing over at who could've been The One.

Taking a seat next to Bucky, the omega decided to get to know the young man who was the only one that Kit had invited, "So, how did you two meet?"

"Through me," Leigh-Anne answered with a smile.

Surprised, Steve didn't say anything for a moment. What could he say? What should he say? Huxley hadn't been with Leigh-Anne, right?

"I know we taught you to share, but I'm not sure this is what we meant," Bucky joked, earning an eye roll from Steve, a facepalm from Ollie, and a barked out laugh from both Kit and Leigh-Anne.

"He's a graphic designer," Kit finally answered, giving Huxley's broad shoulders a comforting squeeze.

The female mechanic explained, "He painted the mural on my van."

"That's your work?" Bucky leaned forward in his seat, intrigued. Bashfully, Huxley nodded. In awe, Bucky turned to tell Steve, "You gotta see it! It's the best work – aside from yours, of course, doll – that I've ever seen!"

"Oh, stop," Leigh-Anne giggled, waving off the compliment. "You're going to make Falkor blush."

"Falkor?" Oliver asked, drizzling A.1. Sauce on his lemon-lime sorbet.

"Like, from, The Neverending Story?" Bitsy asked from the grill.

"That's the one," Leigh-Anne smiled, practically preening.

"That dog-dragon gives me the creeps," Cori exaggerated a shiver. When she caught the pointed look that her omega father was giving her, she half-assed, "No offense."

Steve felt like facepalming, and he could feel through the bond that Bucky felt similar. Leigh-Anne, however, didn't seem to mind. Instead, she just smiled and assured, "None taken."

And, well, fuck, maybe they could keep her. It seemed like she could definitely get the Ian Treatment and become a Barnes. After all, she seemed to get along with everyone at the table, she didn't seem to mind Ollie's gross pregnancy cravings, and she was able to just laugh off Cori's could-be rude comments.

"So, Huxley, you're an artist," Steve reiterated, hoping to get the shy omega to open up a little. He was dating Kit, after all.

"Um, yeah," Huxley nodded. With a shaky hand, he reached forward to grab his glass of lemonade and admitted, "And you are too. Kit showed me some of your work."

"Is that so," Steve tried not to preen, but it was difficult. He knew that he was good at what he did whether it be the peg dolls or the rare candid portraits that he drew of his family. But knowing that his kid was showing him off hit the right buttons. Especially since he was showing them to a special friend.

"Yeah," Huxley confirmed, wiping his mouth after taking a drink. "The watercolor family portrait is absolutely stunning."

Touched, Steve's cheeks reddened, and he gave the young man a soft smile, "Thank you. It's my favorite."

Still a little shy, Huxley averted his gaze to Kit and said, "Mine too."

And, hell, maybe Huxley could be a Barnes too.

[doycngs]

lee donghyuck. | six feet apart. [i]

summary. two days. one car. some unresolved issues with your ex-boyfriend. what a recipe for disaster… right?

pairing. y/n x nct’s haechan. 

genre. exes!au, road trip!au, childhood friends!au. 

word count. 2k. 

[four part series]

part I   |   part II   |   part III   |   part IV

warnings. gender neutral!reader, very angsty ngl, hyuck is vv serious about social distancing adjsjadks jkjk this story is in a coronavirus-free world, erm swearing??? idk what to put here tbh this part is lowkey mild and boring… also don’t be too mad at y/n rn, there’s a very good reason as to this shenanigan ;) anyway! i hope it intrigues you to follow along… i promise hyuck will talk more in the next part, i’ve got big evil plans coming up *debby ryan smirk* 

(cross-posted on wattpad under ginxrna) 

|—————|

“I’M SORRY BUT, what?!?” 

No, no. No no no. There was no way in hell, you were going to agree to this solution. 

“Please don’t tell you’re being serious, Mom?!”

Your mother sighs, finally turning to look you in the eyes. She’d been trying to shove as many boxes into the backseat of the van for the past five minutes. 

“I’m being very serious honey. I know this is not the most ideal situation to be in but you have to do it. There’s no more space in the car and Donghyuck has a free seat in his—”

“Ideal situation? Mom! I can’t stay in a car with him!” 

You hate whining to your mom, especially since you’re literally a grown ass adult now. Who would be able to stop themselves from complaining about it though? No one, that’s who! Not when your own mother is kicking you out of the car and forcing you to spend a two-day car ride back home with your ex-boyfriend. 

Your mother puts down the lamp in her hands, grabbing your forearms to make you face her properly. 

“I’m sorry but you need to do it, okay? I have to drop these off at Dad’s and that’s the opposite way from home! You need to get back in time to finish packing for the fall semester and if you go with me, you’ll miss the first day of being a junior in college. Now, do you really want to do that?” 

Of course, your mother is giving you the No Funny Business look now, the fight in you melting away slowly. It wasn’t her fault that the moving company she hired failed to show up today. You weren’t really mad at her for something she couldn’t help. Maybe just deep down, a combination of things were upsetting you. 

Every summer, ever since you were born, your family has gone down to the beach house they own each year. The Lee family, your longtime neighbors, also tagged along any summer they could. With you being the only child and the Lee’s youngest daughter finally flying off to college, the tradition began to die off quick. It was sad to think about the place being put up for sale but it eventually happened this year. 

You spent every single moment at the beach house trying to soak in the reality as much as possible to prepare yourself. It obviously didn’t work because only now, taking out all the decorations from the rooms to load up, did it really hit you. This was the last summer break being spent here before the place got sold and it was over already. 

Although it wasn’t as pleasant as the past years, like when you spent every waking hour with Hyuck— no, Donghyuck— it still felt like a second home. Now all the campfires, sunbathing, tennis playing, and evening barbeques were over. 

The icing on the cake to your already somber mood had to be the ride back home with your ex though. 

Conveniently of course, your car was at home and your neighbor’s son was “driving home for school as well and he could just drop you off since we live next door to one another!” It would also be “very rude to not accept their offer, even if you two ended on bad terms.” 

Gosh, you would have loved the idea if the two of you were still together. It’s the kind of spontaneous summer road trip you dreamed about in high school; just you and your boyfriend together on the highway. But nope, it wasn’t going to be like that at all. You’re not with Hyuck, fuck— Donghyuck— anymore and the trip back was going to be awful with all the silence. 

You spent the whole time at the house this summer subtly avoiding him with some awkward, forced small talk. You agreed to go to the house because you didn’t think your neighbor’s son was going. As expected, your oblivious dad failed to mention that the Lee’s were coming at the last minute though.

You thought it was fine, given that you believed you were over him already. You and Donghyuck had broken up last year’s spring so it had been a year and a few months to get over it all. 

Turns out that was the fattest lie you could’ve told yourself because the millisecond you saw that sandy brown head of hair, that hollow feeling in your chest came back like a flash flood. He’d lost some weight, changed up his style a little, but still had his charming tan on. The biggest difference was his demeanor around you. 

The way he simply acted while you were around him… it was like he thought you were a predator. Like he was the wounded animal between the two of you after everything that had happened. 

When it finally registered in your head, all the damage he had done to you in the past and how it still haunted you to this day… let’s just say you’ve been a little colder to a certain Lee Donghyuck. It was noticeable by everyone at the beach house but no one had the guts to say anything. 

Your mother must have felt the fight drain out of your body as well, given that your shoulders gave up their defensive position. She manages to put on a smile for you pityingly, rubbing her hands up and down your forearms in comfort. 

“Maybe you guys can finally get some closure. It really suffocated the mood the whole time we were here.” Your mom complains, making an involuntary glare appear on your face. 

It’s strange to think shortly after that boy broke your heart, you were still willing to lie and prettily wrap up his betrayal to your parents. To never tell them the real truth. 

It hurt too much to say it out loud to yourself, much less your parents who adored and loved Donghyuck like their own son. 

Your mother interprets the glare as playful, a tinkling laugh shaking her voice. 

“You two will be fine. I’ll even pay for all the junk food and the nice hotel you two will stay at.” 

When you bite your lip in reluctant anticipation, she smiles knowingly. 

“You’ll really pay for two hotel rooms?” The hope in your voice gave yourself away. The momentary silence makes you believe she’s considering it until her face twists. 

“No, of course not! You two would be sharing one room with two separate beds.” 

Huffing, you cross your arms and go back to duct-taping all the boxes. Thankfully, all the big furniture like the beds and sofas were shipped off this morning, just in case something like this happened. All that was left could hopefully be shoved into five separate cars. 

“You don’t have to do that Mom. We both earn money and can pay for our own accommodations.” You mutter. Her head pops out from behind the seat, mouth open to protest but you interrupt her quickly. 

“It’s fine, I promise. It’s the moving company’s fault for all this happening. Our family has bad luck with these types of things.” You grumble. 

A chuckle is heard from inside the car as she recalls a moving incident two years ago. “We do huh? Remember when your dad packed too many heavy things into the elevator and it couldn’t go up?” 

You sigh at the memory. “Yes, sadly I do. Many of the other dorm residents had a grudge against me before I had ever even spoken to them.” 

A cough cuts through the sound of your mom’s loud laugh, making your head whip around to see where it came from. 

Just when he’s sitting in the back of your mind, Donghyuck appears walking over with a big cardboard box in his arms. He sets it far away from your reach, as expected. 

Ah yes, still so afraid to get too close to you. It’s like he thinks if he came too close, you may scream at him in front of everyone on the property. 

In his defense, you wouldn’t put it past yourself to do that if he tried to explain himself to you once again. 

Your head drops down to become laser-focused on picking at the duct tape roll, the sudden quietness making your mom get curious enough to step out. 

“Ugh, I can begin to feel the effects of my aging. My back is killing me.” She grunts while getting out of the van.

Donghyuck’s eyes widen, immediately walking forward to hold her steady. “Here, let me help out. I can put the stuff in the car instead.” 

“Oh no, it’s alright hon. Me and Y/N got this, go help your mom. I am making you all move everything.” Your mother tries to shoo away, clearly feeling bad for the extra muscles helping around. 

“Don’t worry about it. After all, me and my family practically lived here with you guys most summers. My mom’s also done with her load. I’m here because there’s no more space to fit in this last box. Think it can fit in there?” Donghyuck asks with his hands full, jerking his head at the said object he came with. 

You just finished taping the box he’s pointing at and when you back away from it, Donghyuck quickly bends back down to fit it into the car himself. 

The motherly smile settled on your mom’s lips sits unwell with you, especially as she squeezes Donghyuck’s ear in fondness and thanks. 

She still treats him like a future son-in-law and it makes the pit in your stomach widen even further as you watch. 

|—————|

Thirty minutes later, a miracle came from the heavens to ensure all the boxes fit in all five cars, including Donghyuck’s which barely had enough space for you in the shotgun. As desperate as the thought was, you were secretly hoping there would be no space for you anywhere. A called Uber would have saved you from enduring Donghyuck’s presence for 48 hours and no one would be able to think you were rude for it. 

In her likely fashion though, your mom made sure to shove the unnecessary boxes you placed in the shotgun to the back of Donghyuck’s car. The last thing to do was grab your suitcase and backpack from inside the house and off you’ll go forever. 

Walking into the bare living room, a feeling of bittersweet nostalgia overwhelmed you. 

The coffee table, beat up from all the kids’ roughhousing back in the day, is gone. It leaves a sad space in the middle and makes the room look so much bigger than in the past. The place looked less homey and more alien now that the furniture was all stripped away, especially the sofa. 

The comfy L-shaped couch was your haven whenever you needed some peace and quiet from the chaos, away from everyone and everything for a while. Hyuck always knew to find you here whenever you disappeared from the loud atmosphere, giving you the company you didn’t even know you craved. 

Everything felt like it passed by so quick and suddenly, you wished you could turn back time, even for just for a little. To relive every happy feeling you’ve ever felt in this big home… to feel your bare feet buried in the sand, listen to the sound of waves in the background, breathe in the comforting smell of the sea salt, that comforting sweaty hand wrapped in yours, his bare chest wetting your cheek, having just come back from swimming—

“You ready?” 

When you look behind you, Hyuck is stood by the front door, holding his bags. You feel yourself nodding but don’t really believe it in your bones. 

As you turn back towards the living room, he quietly puts the bags down and stands to your right. You hear the other four cars drive off, beeping in goodbye to one another, but can’t seem to move your feet, force yourself to step out the house, and drive away as well.  

“I’m going to miss this place too,” Hyuck says quietly. The sound of his soft voice makes you glance at him. The soft brown eyes that meet yours lifts your heart just a bit before it all comes crashing down. 

He’s standing six feet away from you. 

The small amount of distance isn’t much but it feels like miles emotionally. It’s the distance he set up that made that little bubble of fantasy pop and wash away with the waves. 

The both of you used to snuggle up on that couch in this very living room a little more than a year ago and hate to be so far away from one another. Looking down at the gap between you two now, your bittersweet recollection comes to an abrupt end. 

A humorless scoff passes your lips before you can help it. The need to leave this place behind itches you into action. 

Grabbing your things, your feet mechanically moves your body without another word, forcing your head not to look up to Donghyuck’s expression. 

You don’t know if he’d look hurt but you didn’t want to risk it. You didn’t care. 

You didn’t. 

You didn’t care. 

[mediocre--writing]

I loved your childhood friends ask! I have a headcannon that when they grow up and get to high school, Billy has a hard time because Steve is seeking out girls whereas Billy just wants him. Billy would definitely cry to his mom about it, especially when Nancy comes into the picture, his head in her lap as she plays with his hair and tries to soothe his broken heart and sobs. How could he fall in love with his straight childhood best friend?

it wasn’t steve’s fault.

billy had to keep reminding himself that it was in no way steve’s fault.

but as he sat in the camaro, waiting for steve to get out of his house, billy could see steve twirling the phone cord around his fingers while he blushed and talked to someone.

billy had been there for almost ten minutes. and steve had seen him, even waved at him, and was usually so punctual about leaving the house.

but it took a total of 25 minutes for steve to hang up the phone and come out to billy’s car.

“nance was talking to me about that party friday, you know the one? but yeah she wanted us to go together and so...”

“so you wanna drive her to the party. steve, she’s your girl, you gotta take her,”

steve sighed out in relief, “we’ll go to the next one together, b, alright?”

“of course,”

they hung out that afternoon but billy didn’t feel as up for it as he was when he was getting ready.

steve was constantly talking about nancy or the party and what he should wear. billy wanted to beat his face in.

it wasn’t for any other reason than he was being annoying. steve and billy were hanging out. that was the plan. it wasn’t steve, billy, and the constant thought of nancy wheeler hanging out.

they drove around for a while, which was nice, and they sang to music, and billy felt settled by steve’s semi-raspy singing voice.

he felt a bit better about losing steve to nancy until he went to drop steve off. it wasn’t anything that happened, just what he said:

“thanks for being so cool about the party. maybe nance and i can introduce you to heather, she’s super nice and i think she likes you!”

billy forced an easy smile on his face while he looked at steve, “sure, t, that would be nice,”

then steve left and billy waited until he got into the house before driving off like a bat outta hell.

he didn’t go straight home. he went to the gas station, filled up the tank, bought three packs of cigarettes, and a candy bar before driving around for the remainder of the night, until about 12.

steve never listened anymore.

in the car, billy had been talking about how he had found a second job at the pool and his coworker, heather, was really sweet.

then steve brings her up at the end of the night like he came up with her out of nowhere? did he not listen to a word billy had said all night?

and nancy. nancy prissy-motherfucker wheeler.

who does she think she is? ramming her way into their group, pretending to be all shy and sweet and cutesy when she just wants steve.

and the way she thinks she’s better than everyone because she’s taking next-grade level clases.

well guess what, wheeler, so am i!! you’re nothing special!!

as billy finished off the last cigarette of the second pack, he reached into the passenger seat to grab for the third pack when he realized how shaky his hands were.

glancing around the car, he noted that it was 11:45, three and a half hours since he’d left steve’s house. and he was going 94 on a shady backroad.

billy loved the feel of speeding, but knew his mother would whip his ass if he did.

rather than open a new pack, billy decreased his speed (to 70, but it was better than 100) and started driving home.

he rolled all the windows down completely, hopefully getting some of the smell out.

when he’d pulled into his driveway, his mom was standing on the porch, trying to shove the key into the lock while balancing her purse, diner leftovers, and another bag in her arms.

billy quickly got out of the car, leaving the pack of cigarettes in there and grabbing the candy bar before walking up the steps and taking the takeout boxes out of her hands.

“thank you, sweet boy,” she smiled as she finally got the key in the lock

they walked into the house quietly, setting all of their stuff down.

billy discarded his jacket in the coat closet while she had gone to change out of her diner uniform into comfy pajamas.

billy moved to the kitchen to take plates and cups down, setting them on the dining table suit for three people, maximum.

he opened the take out boxes and moved each of their dinners onto plates before filling the glasses with ice and water.

“thank you, baby,”

she pecked him on the forehead as he sat down at the table, then took her normal seat and began eating.

“how was your day?”

“better than yours,”

billy’s face scrunched up a little at her comment as she took a bite of her burger.

“you still smell like smoke, plus you were meeting with steve at 6, so you’ve been out for quite a while...”

“it’s nothing to worry about,” billy kept holding his burger rather than take a bite out of it, the smoking having ruined his appetite.

“billy,”

“promise, it’s nothing to worry about,”

“alright. don’t you both have that party friday?”

“why does everyone care about this stupid party!?” billy said, louder than he meant to.

“who’s ‘everyone’?”

“nobody, mom,”

“oooh, you’re all grumpy, calling me ‘mom’ and shit. why don’t you check the attitude by tomorrow morning, mkay?”

billy nodded and took a bite of his food, “sorry,”

“it’s alright, but you can’t get angry at me for something i didn’t do, billy,”

billy nodded and she got up to clear her finished plate, rinsing it then coming back to where billy was still eating.

she held his face gently in her hands and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “try to get a good nights sleep, hon,”

she walked to the back of the house, where her bedroom was, and shut the door, leaving billy with most of his dinner still on his plate and heaviness in his heart.

billy made it through the rest of the school week. the weather was warming up, nearing the end of the school year, and the days were pretty easy.

but he was avoiding steve. well, really, he was avoiding the priss, and since she was always with steve, he was avoiding him by default.

and it didn’t feel any better avoiding steve when every time he did see him, he was holding flowers for her, or picking her up from behind, or talking real close to her face all sweet.

the worst part was that steve didn’t seem all to fazed by not seeing billy those four days.

and it hurt. it hurt that, apparently, steve meant more to billy than billy meant to steve. it hurt that the priss could replace billy so quickly.

and so billy was getting agitated. his mom kept working late shifts and billy was working on training for his lifeguard job and homework and it all felt like too much was going on and he didn’t have steve there to distract him.

so, by complete accident, he got into a fight. a big one. with a senior.

for a junior, billy could probably pass as an actual adult, and had the muscles and fighting skills to prove it.

the senior wasn’t too far off either, though.

billy got knocked into (by accident) in the hall while he was watching steve and the priss and just... snapped.

he and the boy were both losers of the fight, neither looking better than the other and neither having been declared winner. plus, they were both marched off to the principals office at the end of the day.

billy, out of the corner of his eye, saw steve watching him get marched off to the front offices, but didn’t care to look and see his face.

more so, the disappointment that would be there. steve hated when he got angry and fought. he hadn’t gotten into a fight since freshman year, so what happened now?

billy’s mom, having been called in from work, seemed as if she was on fire when she came into the building.

she was a taller woman, had broad shoulders and a glare that rivaled billy’s. in short, she was intimidating as fuck (even in her cute 50s work uniform)

billy couldn’t look her in the eye.

after they’d finished with the principal (two day suspension for both boys), billy and his mom walked out to his car.

“where’d you park?” billy grumbled.

“i had christopher drop me off so i could make sure that you would be going straight home after this,”

they made it to the blue camaro, both standing on the drivers side door.

“mom—“

“keys!” she held her hand out and billy stared at her, “now!”

he fumbled in his jean jacket pocket before handing her the keys, walking around to the passenger door and getting in.

they drove the speed limit the whole way home, not talking and not listening to music. just the rumble of the engine as they sat in silence, both seething with different types of anger.

they pulled up to the house, both getting out and going to the door, unlocking it and billy tried storming off to his room before he was called back.

“what!”

“first of all, loose the ‘tude,” she gestured for him to sit on the couch as she walked back and forth in front of the coffee table. “second of all, no party friday.

“now, what the hell is wrong with you? huh? i didn’t raise you to punch a kid for accidentally bumping you in the hall and i most definitely never taught you to talk back to me!

“i get it, billy. we all have bad days or weeks or whatever but we don’t scream at other people or start fights because we feel angry! do you understand that?”

“yes, ma’am,”

“now, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been all ‘hormonal teenager’ for the past week. well, the past month you’ve been weird, so start from the beginning,”

billy took a few deep breaths, “mom, i really don’t wanna—“

“no, we’re gonna talk. i took the whole day off work so we could fix this, so we are gonna talk and we are gonna figure this out, because you’re not you, billy. you are sweet and smiley and funny and you’ve been a little shit recently,”

billy smiled a little bit at his moms crude language, something most parents would frown upon.

“i’m pretty sure that steve and i aren’t really friends anymore. not like we used to be, at least,” billy scrunched up his nose, a tell that meant he was pretending he wasn’t about to start crying.

“why do you think that? you and steve are inseparable, have been since the day you met,”

“he got a girlfriend,” billy was staring just over his mom’s head, pretending he was looking at her. “and he hasn’t been...”

“hasn’t been what?”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m gonna sound like an asshole,”

“you are a little asshole, just say it,”

“he doesn’t pay attention to me anymore. all he talks about is the priss and how their relationship is going. i love him, mom, you know i do, but i can’t hear another word about her! i hate her!”

“why? is she mean to steve?”

“not mean mean, but, like, i talked to some of the guys we hang out with and they think steve’s been weird recently too. he doesn’t do anything without her and he’s different. i can’t explain it, he’s just not the same steve,”

“billy, it’s his first love, he’s gonna be all sappy for her and forget about his friends, it’s just how it is most of the time,”

“no! it’s not ‘just how it is’ because steve and i aren’t just friends, we’re closer and she’s just pulling him away! he doesn’t even care that she is!”

“billy,”

“you don’t understand!”

“i do, i get it completely, but you’re teenagers and you’re gonna get upset. i’m surprised you and steve have made it this far without having a big fight yet,”

“but we aren’t supposed to have big fights! he’s supposed to listen to me and i’m supposed to listen to him! we get each other and he knows me better than anyone! he’s not like my other friends, he’s—he’s steve—and i can’t loose him, mom,

“he was the first kid i really got to hang out with when you kicked dad out, and he helped me through that. we’re close! i can’t just lose him now, after everything!”

“billy, baby,” he looked up to her, teary eyes and all, “what are you really thinking about right now?”

“i think... i think i like steve, like, i like like steve,”

“i know, baby,”

billy’s head shot up to look at her eyes, “you—“

“billy, you’ve loved steve since the day you met, it’s harder not to notice,”

billy starts breathing deeper then, and his mom moves to sit on the couch, pulling him into her chest as she plays with his hair while he cries quietly about losing his best friend and crush.

“it hurts so bad, momma,”

she shushes his broken voice and continues to play with his hair, “i know, baby, i know,” she tears up along with him.

they stay like that until the school day ends, then when the sun goes down.

billy ends up falling asleep on the couch that night. she gets up to get the knitted blanket off of an adjacent chair and drapes it over his body, not being able to cover all of his legs, but staying there with him all night.

it was hard, as a mother, to watch her son break into so many little pieces. but it was even harder when she almost felt her heart break with his.

she knew steve, knew he would make whoever he ended up with a very, very happy person. he was sweet and went out of his way to make others happy.

and a selfish part of her really wanted steve to end up with her billy, for him to be treated right by the only person he’s been in love with. the person who he’d unintentionally pined after for years.

she just wanted to see her boys happy.

[missjaystone]

Familiar Faces

Summary: Sam sets out to find his soulmate after his dream life wound up being just that, a dream. He just wants to find his happy ever after. Word Count: 3,930 Pairing(s): Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Death (mentioned), Smut, Rough(ish) sex

(This is the sequel to ‘Old Faces’, please read that one first)

Sam didn't tell anyone what happened in his dream if you could call it that; now that he was awake and knew none of that ever happened, it felt like a nightmare or a cruel joke. He dug through old boxes for close to two hours before he found what he was looking for; a box with a handful of pictures from the time he spent with you and Riley before they shipped out. You'd sent the pictures to them not long after they left, he kept them along with the letters you wrote them in a little lockbox. He always kept the key for it on his keychain. He scrambled to look at different letters and pictures for your address, he knew it was on there somewhere.

Half an hour and a dozen groans of frustration and he finally found it! '3197 N 10th St, Washington DC', it was written clear as day and he could recognize your handwriting from a mile away; it was always a little slanted to the side and it was usually smudged in at least three places because your hand always ran across it when you wrote or went back to dot your i's and cross your t's. "FRIDAY, can you look up the owner of 3197 North 10th st in Washington, DC? And their contact information?" He called out to the AI. There was a confirmation sound before it answered in 20 seconds "it's owned by Richard and Owen Johnson." He frowned some "can you look up anyone named y/f/n y/l/n in DC?" Another sound before the AI answered him "there are two thousand four hundred thirteen people with that name." He groaned "how many of them went to the FBI academy in Quantico?" "None," the AI said almost immediately. "Open the search nationwide-no, global, then crosscheck it with anyone who served or actively serves as a special agent with the FBI or any of America's agencies," he ordered, he was getting nervous. His mind started to wander; what if something awful happened to you? The AI's voice broke him out of his thoughts "there is one person in the United States that fits that criteria."

"Where? Where is she?" Sam asked excitedly. "Records indicate she lived in New Haven, Connecticut the past year but a rental application for an apartment in Greenwich Village can be found as well, both dated within the past two weeks." Sam's hopes were quickly rising as he wrote the new address down. "Where's the closest VA office to her apartment?" Sam finally asked after debating. He couldn't just show up on your doorstep out of the blue, but showing up at the VA in the hope you'd go there like any other veteran wouldn't be so weird would it? He'd look the place up online and find a meeting schedule later, now he just wanted to go back to sleep for a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After visiting the VA for two weeks, and no sign of you, Sam was beginning to lose hope and get worried again. Steve encouraged him to go out for a drink with him and Bucky if only to distract him for a night. Bucky all but dragged him with them when Sam said he'd rather not. On the car ride to the bar, Sam figured a couple of drinks wouldn't hurt, what's the worst that could happen. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, looking around the crowded bar curiously. He'd only been there for ten minutes when he decided to get out for some fresh air, slipping away from his friends while they were briefly distracted. He didn't know where it was taking him but he followed the part of his brain that told him to walk down the street. Maybe he followed his mind, hoping the pull would somehow lead to you. He wanted nothing more than to believe that soulmates had a special bond that pulled them together, maybe that's just what he needed to think to stay sane.

He needed to believe all the stories he heard growing up about soulmates being pulled together, about how nothing could keep them apart from one another. He may have denied it initially but he was well past that. No other woman he saw made him feel the way you did; he knew they never could. He started walking past a park but stopped, not giving it a second thought when his mind told him to go in. With it being almost 9 on a weeknight, he wasn't surprised the park was devoid of kids and adults. Then he saw the figure sitting on top of the monkey bars and he smiled to himself.

"Little late to be out isn't it?" He asked when he stopped a couple of feet behind the figure. "Says the man who's also out at this time," was the reply, accompanied by a quiet laugh. "I had a dream you were here, you know," Sam admitted sheepishly. If it wasn't so dark out and he wasn't behind you, you would've seen his blushing face "I mean, not here exactly, I had a dream you were in New York. I've been looking just about everywhere for you." "Work keeps me busy, I've technically lived here for two weeks but I've only spent about three days in town," you answered. "Understandable," he said with a quiet, nervous laugh. A silence filled the space around you both. Sam knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. He sighed quietly and bit his lip "I'm sorry I disappeared on you after we lost him. You needed someone to lean on and it should have been me. I shouldn't have let my own emotions consume me and leave you in the dust," he finally said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam, losing him was as huge for you as it was for me. I was never mad at you; your feelings were your own and you did what was best for yourself. I can't be mad at you for taking care of yourself," you told him, finally looking over at him. He started to argue but you knew what he'd say "I mean it, Sam. I don't ever want you to feel bad for taking care of yourself. You knew what you needed, I knew what I needed and that's that." "I thought you blamed me for his death though, I should've-" he started to argue. You shushed him "people always want to find someone to blame when things go wrong, even if that person is themselves, it's supposed to make it easier to accept I think, because if someone is to blame, then a bad thing didn't just happen, it had a reason behind it. There's nothing you could have done to save him, you were both doing your jobs. I know you think it's your fault but it isn't, Sam, and I never thought otherwise."

Sam smiled, he felt like a weight he didn't even know he carried had been lifted. He'd heard it before but it only ever took away part of the blame he felt. Hearing it from you made it feel true, you saying it made him believe it. He felt like he could breathe again. "You know, I didn't want you to be my soulmate," he said, eyes widening immediately in embarrassment. That's not how he wanted it to come out. "Ouch," you mumbled but held back a laugh. You'd seen him nervous before, it was usually a little entertaining. "I mean I did! Don't get me wrong, god I wanted it but I always worried I'd be too old for you, you know. I didn't want you to get stuck with someone old enough to be your young dad, I thought maybe you'd be able to find someone closer to your age, someone who wasn't friends with the guy who basically raised you," he rambled quickly.

You rolled your eyes and let out a laugh before leaning over the edge of the monkey bars until you were hanging upside down, face to face with him "why would I do that? I didn't have a bond with anyone else the way I did with you. Age be damned, I was an adult when we met, and I was and am more than capable of making my own choices." "Maybe I was just too scared of being rejected then. Do you know how much it's supposed to hurt when your soulmate rejects you?" He asked with a small hum, his hand gently coming up to cup your cheek.

"Oh please, who in their right mind could reject you?" You asked and flashed a small smirk. "God you're a pain," he said jokingly before stepping forward and planting his lips on yours in a gentle kiss. It had a passionate, longing feel to it, like it was something you'd both been waiting for ages for it. Your hanging upside down made it a little awkward but that didn't deter either of you. You tried to pull him closer, only to struggle; you lightly shoved his chest when he laughed. "So, I'm not getting rejected right?" Was the first thing he said when your lips separated. His tone was joking but even in the dark, you could see the nervous look on his face. "I'd never reject you, Sam; I love you," you told him, looking directly into his eyes so he knew you meant it.

He beamed a bright grin, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone softly "I love you too, I wish it hadn't taken so long for this to happen, for us to finally end up together." "Me too, Sam," you were grinning from ear to ear as you looked at him. "Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?" He asked happily. "I'd like that a lot, maybe you can tell me what you've been up to and why two men are staring at us," you stated with a grin. When he gave you a confused look, you nodded past him where two men were stood at the park's entrance, trying (and failing) to look nonchalant and acting like they weren't trying to eavesdrop. "Shoo!" Sam yelled when he looked back at them. He let out an exasperated sigh and an embarrassed chuckle "just a guy who ripped my steering wheel out of my car while I was in it and another guy who likes to show off by frequently running past me. Don't worry, they're just lonely old men, I promise they won't always be around to watch like that." You laughed and grinned "well I can't wait to hear those stories."

When the blood rushing to your head became too much, you finally got off the monkey bars and stretched. You didn't hesitate to kiss him, this time wrapping your arms around him. His own arms were around your waist in an instant, drawing you close until you were flush against his chest. This one was sweeter than before, it was calm and comforting. "How about we go grab a bite to eat right now? There's a pretty good burger place open until midnight a block and a half away," he offered. "Then what're we still doing standing here?" You asked sarcastically, a teasing smile on your face as you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. "That's my girl," he laughed to himself and begin walking with you. "By the way, was that Captain America watching us?" You asked after walking in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. "Yup, unfortunately," Sam chuckled. "So you're either a superhero or some kind of terrorist now?" You teased. "Yeah, but if I tell which one I'd have to kill you," he said with a playful nudge to your side. "Right," you said sarcastically, both of you immediately bursting into laughter. Life felt right. You felt happy for the first time since your godfather's death.

The walk was quick and since it was almost 9:30 at night, almost nobody else was there so you got your food quickly. "So, we're fighting this guy in an airport, and I swear I don't think he's ever been in a fight before because he is so damn talkative. I mean it, he won't shut up. Anyway, he shoots this white substance at us, which in and of itself is unsettling and we're stuck on the ground. He's still talking and it's like a villain's monologue except it wasn't terrifying, it was annoying. I call in Redwing and he just launches this guy out the window and then Bucky says 'you couldn't have done that sooner' and I so badly wanted to smack him or at the very least send him flying through a window," Sam explains, rolling his eyes dramatically while you laughed, having to put down your burger so you didn't take a bite and choke. "And Bucky's the one who ripped your steering wheel out, right?" You asked, just to be sure. "Yup and every day with that dumbass is a test," Sam laughed and grinned. "Well, it's a good thing you have experience with dumbasses, huh?" You asked jokingly. "You know I do, baby."

You and Sam actually wound up staying at the place until they closed at midnight. Once you left, you two just began walking around, savoring each other's company and getting close again. "You wanna go back to my place? It's not that far from here," you offered with a smile. "Really? I thought you lived in Greenwich, I saw the apartment application online," he admitted before coughing and clearing his throat; he really didn't want to mention how much information he looked up online. "I applied to it but found a place here in Manhattan I liked better," you'd question him later about that little tidbit of information he had.

True to your word, the walk to your home was only fifteen minutes tops. "Sorry about all the boxes everywhere, I'm still unpacking everything," you apologized with a sheepish smile as you closed the front door behind you. "I've seen worse, baby, don't worry about it," he said with a casual shrug and a smile. Another silence fell upon you as you looked at each other. Even being together, there was still a pull and you both felt it. He gently pulled you to him and kissed you. This time, the kiss was desperate and hungry, consuming both of you. He held you by your hips, keeping you as close as physically possible. Your arm wrapped around his neck while your free hand cupped his cheeks as the kiss became more heated. It was like you suddenly couldn't get enough of each other.

When Sam finally broke away from the kiss, a small groan leaving his lips as he looked down at you with lust-darkened eyes "where's your bedroom?" "Down the hall, last door on the left," you mumbled, already dragging him down the hallway as you spoke. You'd taken two steps into the room when he picked you up and semi-gracefully tossed you onto the bed. He quickly moved to cover your body with his, caging you beneath him as he attacked your neck with kisses and a few soft bites. There was an urgency in both of your movements as you each hurried to undress the other while trying to keep as little space as possible between your bodies.

Soon, clothes were strewn across the bedroom; your bra was thrown over the lamp on your bedside table, his boxes landed in front of your dresser with his pants not far away. His fingers delved deep into your core and moved slowly, the little moans and gasps of pleasure spurring him on. The way his fingers repeatedly grazed over those spots you had trouble reaching even with your best toys had you melting underneath him. He watched with a proud, adoring smirk as he brought you right up to the edge before stopping and pulling his fingers out. He chuckled when you groaned in frustration, looking up at him pleadingly "Sam!"

"Hm?" He asked, a small teasing smirk on his face as he slowly licked them clean. You narrowed your eyes for a second before returning a teasing smirk of your own "either fuck me yourself or I'll use one of my toys while you sit in a corner." Sam tried to hide the way his eyes widened briefly "you wouldn't dare." You nodded with a smug smile on your face "well, my friend got me a new thrusting vibrator as a joke gift and I haven't had time to use it yet." You looked at each other in a silent staring contest, daring the other to do something. "God damn it, I can't tell if you're bluffing," he mumbled before crashing his lips to yours in a fervorous kiss which you were more than happy to return.

Sam haphazardly wrapped your legs around his waist and after impatiently lining his member at your entrance, he slowly thrust into you. You both let out groans of pleasure, your head falling back onto the pillow while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He started dragging his hips slowly, just savoring the feeling of being with you in a way so intimate he thought he'd only dream it. Once he got more comfortable, he set a slow pace, savoring the feeling of each slow drag of his hips. Your soft moans were music to his ears, and knowing that he was the cause made his heart swell. "I love you so much," your voice was soft and breathy, he could tell you were right there with him on cloud 9. You looked so peaceful as he slowly fucked into you and if he could take a picture, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Your eyes closed and lips slightly parted from the pure bliss you felt. If only your eyes were open, you'd have seen the switch that flipped in his mind when you softly moaned his name.

When he got comfortable, he slowly pulled his hips back until the tip was just barely in before slamming back into the hilt, smirking at the loud moan you let out. He moved his hips fast now, making sure to reach the innermost depths of your cunt with each stroke of his cock. "F-fuck, S-sam!" You almost screamed when he started roughly playing with your clit. He smirked down at you, eyes completely dark now as he asked: "yeah, you think a toy can do this? Can a piece of plastic fuck you this way?" He pinched your clit when you took too long to answer him, making your words hitch in your throat, his hips pistoning into you brutally. You quickly shook your head while your nails dug into his shoulders, a quiet 'no' leaving your lips as you shook your head. "Louder, I want everyone to hear it, I wanna hear you tell everyone who fucks you this good," his voice was becoming husky and his thrusts came harder, punctuating every few words.

"You, Sam! No-no toy can fun me like this!" You shouted, body beginning to shake as your orgasm quickly crept closer. "Yeah? Who's girl are you, huh? Don't you dare cum until I say so," He demanded, grabbing your jaw and making you look directly into his eyes. "Yours, Sam! I'm yours!" You choked out, a low whine following your words while a few tears of pure pleasure ran down your cheeks. "Who owns your cunt, baby? Scream his name so all of New York knows and then you can cum all over my dick," he demanded again, squeezing your jaw slightly. His own hips were stuttering as he did everything he could to hold back. "Sam!" You screamed his name like a prayer before being blinded by white-hot pleasure as you came undone beneath him. A strangled groan escaped his throat as he came, his face falling to your chest as his hips rolled slowly. He could hear your heart pounding in your chest before he reluctantly pulled his softening member out of you and collapsed next to you.

He watched your panting form for a few moments before he got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned with a damp rag, he moved the covers away and gently cleaned your combined arousal from between your legs, frowning some at the way your body jolted at his touch. "I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked nervously. You shook your head, sending him a lazy smile "no, no I'm fine, Sam." "Are you sure? Because I know I got a little rough. I have no idea where that came from, I just-when you moaned my name it set something off I guess," he rambled with a nervous frown still on his face. With a quiet groan, you made yourself sit up so you could look at him. You cupped his cheeks and smiled "that was the best sex I've ever had, I'm fine, just a little sore because it's been a while." "How long?" He asked curiously before he could stop himself. You laughed some "three years, like I said work keeps me busy." He smiled and laid down, carefully pulling you with him "that makes both of us, baby."

The way he slowly rubbed your back made you melt in his embrace, sighing happily. He planted a soft kiss to your temple and yawned "I love you so much, (y/n). There's no place I'd rather be in this moment, or ever again." "I love you too, Sam, so damn much," you whispered, eyes falling shut as you snuggled close to him. A comfortable silence filled the room but only for a minute before Sam spoke again "wait, are you on anything?" You shook your head "we'll deal with that in the morning, I don't have the energy right now."

He fell silent but you could feel his eyes on you. When you opened your eyes again to look at him, you couldn't quite read the expression on his face "what?" He bit his lip in thought, debating on whether to say what was on his mind "well, what if we didn't deal with it?" "What?" You asked him, your confusion evident. "I'm just saying, what if we didn't deal with it, y'know. What if we just let whatever happens happen?" He suggested sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "Sam, are you suggesting that we-?" You asked, your brain unwilling to find and utter the words. "Look, (y/n), I spent all these years without you and now I feel like I have to make up for lost time. Don't worry, I'll respect if you aren't ready or don't want that. I just want you to know that's where I'm at," he said softly, absentmindedly playing with your fingers.

You'd never given much thought to family life but thinking about it with Sam, having children and raising a family together, it sounded appealing. It suddenly felt like something you couldn't live without. You pecked his lips softly before resting your head back on his chest, closing your eyes "let's just go to sleep and see what happens in the weeks to come." You could hear the fondness in his voice when he spoke "if it's a boy, can we name him Paul after my dad?" "Obviously, now turn the light off and go to sleep," you mumbled tiredly, earning a tired, quiet laugh.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Out of Character (Rafe Cameron) Part 6

Warnings: Threats of violence and actual violence, angst/ drama, mentions of drug use, swearing

Authors Note: I'm not finished with Rafe/ Gemma the beginning yet so you all get this little slice first. This hurt to write in some parts, but it will come around.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter if you have a spare moment. I hope you all love it xoxo

***

JJ Maybank climbed the lattice that covered the side of the Mercer home towards her bedroom room. He never went through the front. He worried one day his grooves in the old wood would snap beneath his weight, but that was a problem for Future JJ to worry about.

Gemma was the only person JJ could think to call after everyone had ganged up on him at The Chateau, despite them not having spoke for months. Sure, he flirted with her at the country club, or waved at her at a party. But he had not spoken to Gemma, really spoken to her, for eight months.

Her bedroom window was open like it usually was for him. JJ easily climbed through the open pane and into Gemma's bedroom. He would never admit it out loud, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw her there within arm's reach.

"Hey, babe."

"JJ! Are you okay?" Gemma got up from her bed where she had been reading and ran over to him. She grabbed him by his shoulders to pull him down for a tight hug.

They broke apart and JJ gave her a small smile. He walked around her room, taking in the familiar surroundings again.

"I'm alright. Wanted to see how you were holding up. I'm really sorry about that night, Gem. If I scared you or anything." JJ stated as he cleared his throat. Vulnerable wasn't a natural state for him.

"I mean, you did. You all did. But thank you for that." Gemma nodded as she sat back on the edge of her bed.

JJ slowly, almost with caution made way to sit beside her on the bed. He did not touch her once he sat down. He knew if he started, he couldn't stop. He also knew Rafe Cameron would actually kill him this time.

"Can I ask you something" JJ asked as he leaned back on his hands.

"Sure."

"What happened with you and Topper?"

"Why does it matter?" Gemma scoffed as she stood up and walked to her closet. She moved clothes quickly along the rack as a distraction from his question.

"Because people are talking, Gemma. And I..Why him and not me?" JJ asked sternly as he got up from the bed, gently grabbed her left wrist to turn her towards him.

"JJ, you need to leave." Gemma whispered, her fingertips against his chest to push him away.

"Tell me. What happened? Or what is happening? Please, let me help you." JJ pleaded as he placed his hands on her hips.

"Rafe is coming over from Barry's soon, so you shouldn't be here." Gemma sniffled as she avoided his gaze.

JJ dropped his hands from her hips, took one last look around her room, then made his way to the window once more. Just as he swung a leg out the window to find his grooves in the lattice he saw the familiar Jeep roll up.

"Looks like Prince Charming is here." JJ muttered as he tossed his other leg out the window and lowered himself down.

"JJ, I'm sorry." Gemma replied as she watched him exit the window. Below her room, beneath the lattice on the grass she could hear Rafe yell, "MAYBANK, I FUCKING SEE YOU!"

Gemma cursed to herself as she ran from her window to open her bedroom door. Before she could make her way through the open doorway her father, an intimidating 6'1 stood in front of her.

"Gemma," Anthony Mercer stated with a warning tone in his voice. His reading glasses at the tip of his nose as he stared down at his only child.

"Dad, I was.."

"Why is my bosses son outside chasing the Maybank boy with my good hammer?" Anthony Mercer grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll bring Rafe inside." Gemma whispered as she looked down at her feet.

"Good. And keep him away from that Maybank boy until after Midsummer. After that they can kill each other for all I care." Anthony replied before he turned on his heel and walked towards his office.

Gemma whispered out a "shit" before she ran from her bedroom and out the front door. Rafe and JJ stood in the driveway arguing. Rafe clutched Anthony Mercer's hammer in his right hand as he stood nose to nose with JJ.

"Rafe!" Gemma yelled from the covered porch, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Dirty Pogue." Rafe spat as he turned away from JJ then tossed the hammer in the grass. He walked towards Gemma with a scour.

"The filthiest!" JJ yelled as he backed off the property with a cocky grin.

Rafe walked up on the porch with Gemma, his hands shoved into his pockets as he glared at her through his dark sunglasses.

"Why the fuck was he here?" Rafe asked.

"Rafe.."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Gemma. I thought we were passed this." Rafe growled as he pointed a shaky finger toward the spot JJ once stood.

"Nothing happened!"

"Then why was he climbing out of your window like he was casing the fucking place?" Rafe sneered as he leaned closer to his girlfriend.

"Because he's my friend, and my dad freaks him out. So he doesn't like to use the front door." Gemma replied, exhausted with the conversation.

"I don't ever want to see that fucking Pogue here again. And he isn't your friend, Gemma." Rafe spat before he walked into the Mercer's house.

...

The next day at the country club Rafe played golf with Kelce and Topper, and attempted to mend bridges with Topper. Rafe figured it was better Topper was with him than against him.

"So you think she's fucking Maybank?" Kelce asked as he watched Topper tee off.

"Don't choke, Thornton." Rafe grumbled as he watched Topper miss the ball and create a divot in the grass.

Topper cleared his throat then swung again. He and Rafe didn't talk about what happened that night with Gemma. They only did a line together, Rafe vowing he would break Topper's legs if it happened again. Topper knew it was probably true. Rafe Cameron could be extremely volatile, and had friends in low places.

"No. I don't think she's fucking that Pogue. But I do think he still go this dirty hands where they don't belong."

"Speaking of Pogues.." Kelce muttered as he hit Rafe's arm then pointed to the walkway a couple of feet away from them.

Pope Heyward walked by his lonesome, a case of beer in his hand. Rafe chuckled under his breath before he walked off the golf green and towards Pope.

"Hey, Pogue. " Rafe sneered as he walked up to the smaller young adult and back him against a concrete wall.

"No. Listen, I have to bring these in. Rafe, please."

"Tell you what. You give me...Half of these, and tell your fucking friend Maybank to keep away from my girlfriend." Rafe smirked as he slowly opened the box of Coors with his nine iron.

"Okay. Okay. I will talk to JJ and tell him to stay away from Gemma. I didn't even know they he was talking to Gemma again. But I cannot give you these beers. " Pope rambled, his eyes darted from each Kook to the next.

Rafe placed his hand flat on the bottom of the case of beer before he easily tipped it out of Pope's hands, without the change to register the butt of Rafe's nine iron jabbed into Pope's solar plexus, effectively knocking him to his knees.

"Then you can't have these beers either." Rafe muttered as he sat on his heels heels next to Pope as he gasped for breath.

"Why? Pope gasped as he clutched his stomach. It ached. He had never been in a real fight before. Only rough housing between friends.

"Stay off fucking Figure Eight. And tell your dirty fucking Pogue friend to stay away from my girl. That's why. Clean this shit up." Rafe spat as he stood back up, tightened his golf glove then brushed by his friends to get to the golf green.

Gemma would kill him if she knew what he did to one of her friends, but he had to assert his dominance on the island as Kook King.

**

"Hi, Pope! Gemma smiled as he walked by her quickly, his head hung low. He didn't acknowledge her, in fact, he almost walked right into her.

"Pope! Are you okay?"

He spun on his heel and turned to face her, his eyes ablaze. He may have been the smallest of his friend group, but he still towered over the Mercer girl.

"You know what? Fuck you, Gemma. This is all your fault. Don't come around us anymore. And stay away from The Cut. You don't belong there. " Pope sneered with a pointed finger before he stomped out of the building towards the docks.

Pope ignored the guilty feeling he had immediately in his gut after he yelled at Gemma. He had always liked her, but he knew she was trouble for the Pogues. It was best she stayed around Figure Eight, and away from JJ.

Pope spat his blood on the pristine walkway of the country club as he crossed to the docks. He hoped it stained. He started the boat and waited for JJ.

"Dude! You are never gonna guess what just happened to me! I love grocery runs." JJ yelled as he ran up the docks and onto the boat.

Pope wordlessly released the boat, then started off towards home. He kept his eyes trained foward with a scowl.

"What's up? Wait..what fucking happened to you?" JJ asked as he pulled the brim of his friend's hat up to see his battered face.

"Got jumped. Rafe Cameron and his goons on the course. He said to stay off Figure Eight, and that you should stay away from his girlfriend." Pope grumbled as he pulled away from JJ.

"That motherfucker. Was Gemma there?" JJ growled as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't see Gemma." Pope lied as he set his jaw.

"It's fine. Listen. This is fucking war now. They hit us, we hit them back. Let's go. I have an idea." JJ mumbled as he grabbed his cigarettes from his back pocket.

[stolethekey]

i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side

hello! this is for the (final!) @b99fandomevents—i can’t believe how far these two (and this show) have come, and i’m gonna miss them so much. i got to write this for @amydancepants-peralta, who wanted a fic where jake and amy have a disatrous first date, and then amy decides to transfer to chicago—jake has three days to convince her to stay.

enjoy! (you can also read this on ao3.)

It’s their first date, and it’s a disaster.

Neither of them has said anything in the ten minutes since they’ve sat down. Jake buries his nose into the menu, hoping that he looks occupied enough with choosing an entrée to excuse the heavy silence that has settled over the table. A few feet away, in the other side of the booth, Amy does the same thing.

A young man in a pressed suit and tie approaches their table, a small, nervous smile on his face. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Yes!” Amy nearly leaps at the chance to talk to someone who is not Jake. Jake tries not to feel too hurt by the desperate excitement in her voice. “I’ll take the chicken piccata, please.”

Jake lingers around the chicken parmesan but ends up going with a steak, because he’s determined to show Amy and maybe himself that he can eat like an adult. They pass their silk-embossed menus to the waiter, sip their waters, and suddenly it’s too quiet again.

“You got a haircut,” Jake notices, wringing his hands nervously under the table.

“It looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

There is a beat of silence that stretches just a little too long, and then Jake says, “This is awkward.”

Amy chokes out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Another moment passes. Jake swallows the non-existent saliva in his mouth. Their waiter, mercifully, returns with their food a few minutes later. Jake doesn’t want him to leave. He does, of course, and then they’re left in that terrible silence again.

Jake makes it through half his steak before speaking again. “Should we, um, just get really drunk?”

Amy grimaces, reaching for her water. “I don’t think so.” Her voice is quiet, almost defeated. “If we can’t do this sober, what’s the point?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Jake’s stomach, but he stabs his fork into his a piece of broccoli anyway. - It’s the day after their first date, and Amy asks for a transfer.

Jake learns about this through a wail from the evidence lockup that he hears from a good twenty yards away. He bursts through the door, frantic, to find Charles curled in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.

Charles gets out the details in between sobs, or at least enough details that Jake gets most of the picture. Amy put in a transfer to Chicago, it’s been granted on account of an emergency vacancy that needs to be filled, and she has three days left at the Nine-Nine.

“Three days,” Charles gasps, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Three days, you have to convince her to stay, Jake, you have to—”

“Hold on,” Jake says desperately, watching Charles dab at his face with a completely saturated tissue. “Let me get you another box of Kleenex.”

He opens the door to leave and runs straight into the source of Charles’s despair, in the flesh.

“Oh,” says Amy.

Jake closes the door behind him before Charles can see her and have a heart attack, then crosses his arms. “Is it true? Are you leaving?”

Amy has the grace to look self-conscious, shuffling her feet and shoving her hands in her pockets. She nods, and Jake feels strangely like the walls are swimming around him.

It just makes sense, she says. She has family there, and New York is too crowded, too expensive, and maybe Chicago is a better place to live anyway.

“Is this because of me?” Jake demands. “Because of…you know…our date?”

“No, of course not.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.

Jake scoffs before stalking past her into the bullpen, ignoring her half-hearted call of his name. He blinks back the hot, furious tears forming in his eyes, and internally he starts a calendar. - On Day One, Jake calls in sick to work.

He responds to the “r u ok??” texts from Charles, Rosa, Gina, and Terry with a copy-and-pasted “I’m ok. Just feeling gross.” He ignores the ones that mention Amy. He also pretends like he doesn’t notice that Amy hasn’t sent him anything.

The morning is spent mindlessly scrolling through his social media beneath his blankets, with no regard for time or his grumbling stomach.

At noon, Charles posts a picture of the squad from Halloween with the caption “Gonna miss my favorite Halloween-hater. #SayonaraSantiago.” Jake decides he’s had enough Instagram for the day and finally hauls himself out of bed.

He orders a pizza, then turns his phone off and the TV on. Inadvertently, the pizza becomes both lunch and dinner and one Die Hard movie becomes a marathon—and before he knows it, the sky outside his apartment is dark.

“Well, that was productive,” Jake mutters, brushing the pizza crumbs off his lap before standing up to toss his trash into the garbage.

On Day Two, they aren’t talking to each other.

Amy looks up almost timidly as he walks out of the elevator, then waits until he reached his desk to let out a small, hesitant “Hi.”

Jake grabs the file waiting for him on his desk and walks out of the bullpen without looking at her.

So, strictly speaking, this is mostly his fault.

That fact does not do anything to quell the mixture of anger and hurt writhing in his stomach. He spends the day furiously completing paperwork in an empty interrogation room, jabbing his pen so furiously into the paper that he rips a hole in an I-918 and has to start over.

At noon, Rosa stops by with a turkey sub, which she drops wordlessly on the desk in front of him before sliding back out the door.

At five, he has completed more paperwork than he has in the last month combined. He drops the stack of files on Terry’s desk, forces a smile, and says, “Finally caught up on all those forms you’ve been hounding me about.”

Terry, his eyes piercing and slightly concerned, does not laugh. “Dismissed.”

It’s Day Three, and Holt has had enough.

He assigns Jake and Amy to label evidence in the lockup together, much to Jake’s chagrin. Amy turns and speeds off without a word. Jake turns towards Holt with a big, reproachful protest on the tip of his tongue but is cut off by Holt’s raised eyebrows and stern expression.

“Peralta, you need to get over yourself.”

“What?”

“You need to get over yourself,” Holt repeats. “Your partner of six years is leaving tomorrow, and you haven’t spoken to her in three days.”

Jake snorts, crossing his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, she’s leaving because of me, so—”

“I’m not sure that matters,” Holt says, not unkindly. “If you let her leave like this, you might never get the chance to talk to her again.”

Jake stares at the ground, furiously attempting to dig a hole in the ground with his toe.

“I know you don’t want this to be the way things end.” Holt’s voice is gentle, and Jake can’t bring himself to look up. “It would be unwise to let your pride get in the way of your last chance to save your friendship.”

“Whatever,” Jake mutters irritably, but something uncomfortable has begun to form in his gut. “Gimme that Sharpie so I can go write case numbers on a bunch of ziplock bags.”

Jake does not, in fact, get over himself—at least not for the first few hours. He chooses to instead label evidence in the same furious silence that has occupied his past three days, pretending he doesn’t see the furtive, almost timid glances Amy throws his way every few minutes.

Then he walks to a bodega for lunch and realizes mid-chew that this is Amy’s last lunch at the Nine-Nine, and the uncomfortable thing in his stomach grows a lot bigger.

He finally swallows his pride on his walk back to the precinct, and when he re-enters the evidence lockup the thing in his stomach has started feeling a lot more like guilt.

Amy walks in a few minutes after him, tossing a balled-up sandwich wrapper into the trash, and notices that he’s watching her. “You have something to say to me?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jake says quickly. “I do.”

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, and Jake’s heart sinks a little.

“I—uh—I’m sorry,” Jake says. “For how I reacted, and for icing you out the past few days. It was immature of me, and stupid, and I should’ve been an adult about it, but—well, I guess we both know I suck at that sometimes.”

Amy snorts, but her expression has softened slightly. “Thank you.”

“And I’m gonna make it up to you,” Jake continues, almost determinedly. “We’re gonna make this the best day you’ve ever had at the Nine-Nine.”

Amy laughs slightly. “I don’t think that’s possible, given the amount of work we have left.”

“Who cares?” Jake shrugs. “The best part of work has always been the people anyway.”

And for all the organizational skills Jake may lack, he sure knows how to delegate. All it takes is a couple text messages to a new, Amy-less precinct group chat and the rest of the Nine-Nine is off. Gina cashes in on a favor and gets Shaw’s to close its doors for the evening. Rosa makes a last-minute motorcycle trip to a local party store and uses a sizable amount of cash and her surprising aesthetic skill to acquire a large box of decorations. Charles says, “leave the food to me,” and no one is brave enough to question him about it.

Jake stays with Amy on the floor of the evidence lockup. They talk and laugh as they work, reminiscing about their years at the Nine-Nine and the particularly memorable perps they’ve brought in.

There’s also a supercut of the stuff that wasn’t work at all—the precinct parties, Charles saving Thanksgiving, the Boyle-Linetti wedding. There are the Halloween heists, the Jimmy Jabs, and there’s the Bet, with a capital B. Neither of them mentions the last one, but Jake is definitely thinking about it.

“Remember that time Terry tried to do the full bullpen and almost knocked a tooth out?” Amy asks, grinning widely. “I thought Sharon was gonna pull him out of the force immediately.”

“You have no faith,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I knew she’d let him stay.”

“You did not.” Amy points at him, narrowing her eyes. “You were so scared when she came to pick him up.”

“I was not—”

“So scared. I’ve never seen a grown man visibly tremble like that, but—”

“God, shut up.” Jake throws a balled-up piece of tape at her, and she laughs. It’s a real one, this time, one that’s bright and infectious.

They let it fade into a gentle silence, one that’s more comfortable than the ones of the past few days.

There’s a beat, and then Jake says, “Don’t go to Chicago.”

He expects Amy to be surprised by this change of subject—to recoil and give an affronted, “what?”

Instead, she sighs, long and slow, and closes the manila folder in front of her. “Jake—”

“I mean, I know it’s your decision, and I respect that,” Jake says quickly. “And if you truly meant what you said to me earlier, about how it’s important to be near your family and it’s a better place for you to live and you’ve grown out of New York—if that’s really the reason you’re leaving, then that’s fine. Just tell me, and I’ll shut up about it and we can just have a big blowout goodbye party and you can leave.”

Amy picks at the edge of her boot and says nothing.

“But if it’s not—if you’re leaving because of what happened on our date—I don’t want to be the reason you give this up, Amy. I know how much you love it here, and this place loves you too. Captain Holt is a phenomenal mentor to you, we both know that, and you might not get that in Chicago—you’ve done so much good work here that I know you’re proud of, and I can’t be the reason you don’t have that anymore.”

Amy looks at him, her eyes a stormy mix of unreadable emotions, but still doesn’t say anything.

“Look,” Jake says, splaying out his hands in front of him. “That date was kind of a disaster, we both know that. And I think it’s because we were both trying too hard, because we cared too much. Because we’re friends, Amy, and that’s what’s most important to me.”

He takes a deep breath, then says, “I don’t care if we never date. I don’t care if I never get to hug you, or kiss you, or do any of the things I’ve so desperately wanted to do. I just can’t lose your friendship. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, and an even better friend, and I would be more than happy to just be friends with you for the rest of my life. God knows it’s more than I deserve.”

“You deserve plenty,” Amy says softly.

Jake swallows the way that makes his chest flutter. “I’m just saying—I’m laying my cards all out on the table, here. I want you to stay, and I respect it if you don’t want that. But please don’t let me be the reason for you leaving.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Amy gives him a small, wistful smile that says everything Jake needs to hear.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Party at Shaw’s it is, then.”

Amy slaps the last label on a duffle bag, checks her watch, and stands. “I’m actually taking off early—I need to clear up some stuff at City Hall before I leave. I’ll meet you there?”

“Oh,” Jake says, a little dumbfounded.

Amy notices his expression and shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s not—I mean, this has been settled for days, Holt knows, I was always leaving at three today. So it’s not, like, spontaneous, you know. I would’ve told you earlier, but—"

“I was being an ass. Yeah.”

Amy gives him that little sad smile again, and Jake wants to kick a wall. “I’ll see you at the bar,” she says, almost gently.

Jake forces a smile and nods. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.” - When he pushes through the doors of his favorite bar a few hours later, Jake is expecting loud music, streamers, and—if Gina’s Instagram stories were credible—possibly Mario Lopez. Instead, the bar is completely empty.

There are no balloons, no decorations—the only set table is in the middle of the floor, and on it sits a pizza, two salads, and two glasses of water.

“What—what is this?” Jake mutters, mostly to himself.

“A dinner between two friends,” Amy says, emerging from behind the bar. She gives him a small, slightly nervous smile. “And if it goes well, a second date.”

Jake blinks.

“You were right,” Amy tells him, carrying a bottle of wine and two wine glasses to the table. “Our friendship is the most important thing, here, and it means a lot to both of us. I mean, that’s why we were trying so hard in the first place, right? Neither of us wanted it to fail.”

Jake nods in silent assent, not trusting whatever his mouth would say if he let it.

“But it did fail. Miserably.”

“Uh-huh,” Jake says, somewhat stupidly.

“So the worst thing that could happen has already happened, and we’ve gotten through it. And I think—I think, now, having gone through the past few days, we know enough to give it another shot. As long as we set very clear boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Jake repeats. “Boundaries are good.”

“Yeah,” says Amy with a slightly amused smile. “So, we’re friends. Really good friends. And that’s what we have to protect, above anything. So this is not necessarily a date. It’s a dinner, and we’re a pair of very good friends who are gonna eat it. And if we want to, afterwards, we can decide to call it a date.”

“Can you do that?” Jake asks. “Label something a date after it’s already happened?”

“Who cares?” Amy smirks. “Since when have you followed rules?”

Jake swallows and shrugs.

“Anyway, if it’s awkward, or weird, then we move past it. It’s a slightly awkward moment between friends that doesn’t have to mean anything. No more silent treatment, no more rash decisions, just two friends who are still friends afterwards. Got it?”

“Afterwards,” Jake says slowly. “So—Chicago—”

“Yeah, I’m not going,” Amy says, her eyes sparkling. “That was a dumb thing I did to avoid this guy I went on a terrible date with.”

A broad grin starts to make its way across Jake’s face. “He sounds like he sucks.”

Amy laughs, then pulls out a chair and points at it. “So—pizza?”

The grin on Jake’s face softens into something smaller, something gentler. “Definitely.”

They each take a slice, then a bite, and Jake will never admit it—but it’s the best Meat Supreme he’s ever tasted.

[cherriesradio]

The main 3 (Bakugo, Todoroki, Deku) accidentally hurting y/n during a fight (Mentally and psychically)

Warnings: Angst! (Fluff/ Comfort endings)

Bakugo

Y/n and him had fought, once again, on his anger issues

Y/n hated the fact that he got so mad he would hurt people, and how it effected his reputation as a hero student.

This time was pretty much the same as any other. Deku gets in his way some how during training, he yells, Deku tries to defend himself via apology, Bakugo gets even more angry and yells even more.

The difference was… he burned Deku, to where he had to go to recovery girl for burns.

Y/n was furious.

“How can you take his fucking side!?” Bakugo yelled, his voice ringing through y/n’s ear drums. He held himself strong and firm infront of his dorm, while y/n stood the same.

“I’m not taking sides, Katsuki! I’m saying that I’m not going to let you hurt anyone again over a small argument!” Y/n yelled somehow louder, the whole class crowding around them wanting to cover their ears.

“Shut the fuck up! You know your taking his side! With how much you like that shitty nerd, why don’t you get with him instead!” He could feel his heart pumping as it always did during fights. He may easily argue with the others without a tablespoon of guilt, but whenever he fought with y/n his heart seemed to break more and more by the second.

“Stop being overdramatic! I’m not taking sides, and I don’t like him like I love you, idiot!” Y/n tightly closed their eyes knowing that tears would come up any second now. The fact that he told them to get with someone he seemed to hate made their blood boil. They loved him and only him.

He walked forward, noticing the tears running down y/n’s face. He wanted so hard to wipe them away and for them to bury their face in his chest, softly combing his hand through their hair and telling them that he didn’t mean that, that he loved them so much, he would give up everything for them.

He put his hand firmly on their shoulder, trying to tell them that he wanted to help them right now. And he wanted to stop fighting.

But, of course, this was right after late night training. He was still sweaty and hot. And as his quirk works… he burned their shoulder. Not enough for recovery girl, but enough to leave a mark.

Y/n stepped back, processing what had just happened. They were in shook and didn’t feel the burn at first, but soon the numbness gave away. It hurt like hell. They quickly ran in the other direction to their own dorm, violentlypushing the others out of the way.

Bakugo’s face of shook made the others feel unsettled. They quickly separated, all ready to talk and gossip about it in the morning.

His footsteps echoed through the halls, not able to catch up before y/n slammed and locked the door.

“Y/n! Y/n, please! I’m so sorry, I-I was still sweaty after training and I was so worried about you crying and I just-“ He slammed his fist against the door, much harder than he intended.

He then quieted down, wanting to see if he could hear anything. Gently, clearly trying to be hidden, small cries came from the other side. He heared slow footsteps towards the door and y/n leaning their head on the door.

“…” Y/n started quiet. Bakugo leaned his head on the spot he thought y/n leaned theirs. “That hurt, Bakugo Katsuki.” They said just loud enough to be heard though the door.

“Please, Firecracker, let me in. I need to tell you that I’m sorry.” His eyes dropped with regret. A part of him wished everyone else was there still to see how much he really cares for his lover.

He could feel them slowly open the door, a small creak coming from the crappy floorboards.

“Firecracker?” He said with a sad smile as y/n peaked out from the inside. They nodded to themself and opened the door.

“Katsu? Are… are we okay, right now?” They mutter, standing, trembling at their door. Bakugo didn’t dare touch them, knowing he would scare them again.

His pride returned from y/n opening the door for him, seeing him as good enough for it. He wanted so hard to apologize. But being Bakugo Katsuki, he had a hard time saying sorry.

“I- um… I’m really, really, really, really sorry, Y/n. I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you, you were just trying to help, and I was being petty and telling you to get with Deku, and I was so emotional in the moment and my quirk just went without thinking-“ His ranting was interrupted by y/n cupping his face with their hands.

“It’s fine, Katsu. I’ll need an ice pack, but beside that I’ll be fine. I’m glad you said sorry, I love you so much. Really.” Y/n said, their skin feeling warm on Bakugo’s cheeks. Bakugo gently smiled, his eyes closed, and held y/n’s hands to his face, wanting so much more but at the same time for nothing to ever change from this moment.

“Do you think it’ll leave a scar?” He asked under his breath. Y/n paused and nodded.

“Not a big one. Wont last forever, maybe a few days.” Y/n sighed, knowing this would make Bakugo feel awful. He was visibly saddened by this, as expected.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault for being so angry all the time.” He looked away, not daring to look them in the eye. His eyes switched from their bed to the doorframe, back to the bed.

“How about you try showing this side of you, one that can feel guilt and cares about others, to other people besides me?” Y/n asked in a rather joking tone, even though they weren’t joking in the slightest.

He looked down at his bare feet for a second, then back up, into their eyes that he could get lost in forever. “I think, maybe I could. I like having that side only being yours, though. So you know I’m yours, and your mine.”

Y/n chuckled. “Maybe share that love with the whole world.” They got on their tippy toes and kissed his forehead. “Now, you should go to bed. It’s about nine, which is late for you.”

Todorki

Y/n and him barely argued.

If a issue came up they would sit down and talk about it like mature adults, even if the others tried to drop in and put thier opinion in because they found it funny.

Y/n very much understood that Todoroki, even after Deku’s empowering speech at the sports festival, didn’t like using his fire quirk.

There would be times where he would use it with a small grudge, and others where they could tell he wanted to stop using it so badly.

But the difference between this time and any other using his left side, was that they couldn’t see and ounce of guilt in his eyes as he practically burnt Bakugo to a crisp while defending Deku.

It was normal for Bakugo to make fun of the Dekusquad, to their faces. Todorki usually stood and took it, occasionally asking him politely to shut his dirty mouth.

But this time instead of his normal polite suggestion, Todorki decided that the best way to get him to stop was to leave a mark. Something to remind him when he tried.

Y/n was disappointed, they thought Todoroki could hold his cool like normal. They didn’t want to yell. Or scream. Or tell him that he should regret it. Of course not. But… it just came out. Sometimes, you just need to scream.

“You can’t just burn someone alive, Todoroki!” Y/n shouted across the empty common room, staring down Todorki like he was a completely different person. And like the rest of the night, he stared right back, in complete silence. No emotion, expression, nothing.

Y/n bite their bottom lip. “I’m so mad at you right now!” They pulled themselves in, slouching into themselves. “I know he sorta deserves it but still! You didn’t even feel bad!”

Todoroki looked emotionless. Uncaring, zoning out from the quiet mutters of hurt y/n so didn’t want him to hears. But he wasn’t. He wanted so hard to say sorry, yell it from the roof tops that he regrets it and he knows he lost himself.

He knew that the image of flames circling around the two, burning the parts of Bakugo that weren’t used to such heat, must be repeating in y/n’s head. If it weren’t for his quirk Bakugo would have been even more hurt.

Y/n stood, silent. No more words could possibly explain how they felt in the moment. They wanted to run and hide from the shame they felt from Todoroki’s calm face. Yet at the same time they wanted to jump into his arms and tell him that they didn’t want to hurt him, that he was trying his best to do good and they know it.

So they ran, and ran, and ran to their dorm room. The grey walls seemed to close in on them, shoving them into a little box of angst and worry.

Todorki, right after processing what happened, went straight to Deku. He, being the one other person in the class with a girlfriend or lover, was someone who had to know what to do when their upset.

“Hm. Well, last time Ochako got mad at me I let her have a little while to herself to think everything through, and then we talked and everything was better! I’m sure they can’t be mad at you forever!” His sympathetic smile let out a little bit of warmth in Todokri’s cold thought. They won’t be mad forever, because they just can’t be. Unlike him.

So, he waits. He gives them a day, starts walking to their dorm, thinks “maybe it’s to soon?” Waits. Then, the same thing again. And again. Till it’s been a whole week and the two haven’t talked once.

Y/n swallows hard, not sure if they have the courage to go up to Todoroki.

“To-Todoroki?” They said, hovering over him as he read Sherlock on the common room couch. They had already slyly shooed doors everyone out of the room back to their independent dorms.

“Y/n?” He gently said, glancing over his book. They were glad he still held onto the small warmth in his voice when he said their name.

They sighed. “I’m so sorry. Are we okay? I know I should have yelled at you but it just came out, and we should’ve just talked it out like normal, and I-“ They said, running their hand through their hair. Till Todoroki gently cupped their face with both his cold yet warm hands.

“Thank you for apologizing. I realize now that I should have let you think about it for so long, I asked Deku what I should do and he said to give you time to think.” He softly, yet awkwardly, chuckled. “I guess I gave you a little more time then needed.”

Y/n’s eyes glossed and they lowered their head, giving him a small peck on his forehead. Their whole body let go of tense that y/n had no idea they had as soon as they hit contract.

“I love you.” They whispered, lowering to their knees and resting their head on his knees.

“I love you, too. More then you can ever imagine.”

Deku

Deku always hated arguments. (Same)

Similar to Todoroki, Y/n and him agreed a long time ago to just… talk.

So here’s the tea sis……. He may or may not have broken ANOTHER BONE during a villain fight that he didn’t need to get in at the grocery store 👉👈🥲

Arguement in the recovery room

“Izuku, what is wrong with you!? I swear, I was gonna have a heart attack when Bakugo, of all people, told me!” Y/n yelled, talking with their hands. They weren’t even looking at Deku, a small part of them knowing he would either be crying or on his way to be. “I mean, there was a hero across the street in the footage! Across the street! He only didn’t notice cause he was wearing headphones for some dumb reason!”

They let out a loud groan and put their hands into fists, facing the window. “I just hate that you keep hurting yourself.” They looked down, their eyes looking droopy.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. You know I love you.” He stuttered, not knowing what else he could say. They glance back at him, their eyes glossy. They stayed silent for a few moments.

“This is not about wether or not you love me. I know that you do, and I love you too. But you know… it hurts me when you get hurt.”

His eyes widened. “How would me getting hurt hurt you? You look just fine-“ Deku started, quickly interrupted.

“Not physically!” You faceplamed. “It hurts me so much when you carelessly break a bone, sometimes several! You always talk about how your doing everything to live up to how people have helped you, yet your hurting them so much from hurting yourself!”

If he could have he would have taken a few steps back from surprise. He hasn’t ever seen you angry. Of course he was used to people being mad at him, heck, he was friends with Bakugo for years.

But seeing the love of his life, hurting, angry, bought to tears because of how much they saddened from him getting in danger.

He had long realized that break bone after bone wasn’t good for him. But this moment, seeing boiling hot tears stream down your cheeks, staring right in his eyes, wanting so much to say something that would possibly explain what your thinking… it hit.

“I- love- I- I’m sorry, I-I- I never realized I was h-hurting you, a-all of you-“ He hiccuped, unable to keep his tears down when staring right back at you.

You wiped your forearm across your face not wanting to cry right now. You were meant to be angry, be boiling, be furious. You were, only seconds ago. But right now what you needed was for him to hold you, and to tell you that both of you are going to be okay.

“I’m sorry, Izuku.” You bite your lip, hard. “I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid, how can I expect you, brave, fearless you, not to try to save someone! Even when someone’s around you have to be so overwhelmingly selfless!” You cried.

“Love.” His exhaled, unable to feel anything different for you. “Please. Just… just come here, I- I need you right now.”

You slowly sta on the chair next to his bed, moving it as close to the bed as possible. You laid your head on his stomach, arms crossed on him. You had your eyes just above your arms, looking right on him and his freckly features. 

He set his hand on your head, gently playing with your hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure not to hurt myself. I don’t wanna hurt you, or anyone.”

Fin

Notes: OH MY GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER BECAUSE I KEPT FORGETTING MY IDEAS AND MADE NEW ONES AND IT’S ALL SAD AND AHEBSJHENWOJSBDBS THIS TOOK A HOT MINUTE