#but then a kid comes in that looks like he could be his little brother or son and suddenly all bets are off

[depresssant]

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second. 

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care. 

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air. 

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things. 

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup. 

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

[clockwayswrites]

Uncle John Part 2

masterpost

Even though Bruce knew what he was opening the door to, it was still almost startling to see John Constantine shielding two teenagers on the other side. The oldest was a redhead, though Bruce could only tell that from the fierce eyebrows. The hair of both teens had been shaved so close to the scalp that it was basically nonexistent. From what little Bruce could see of the second, behind the protective forms of John and the red head, the second teen’s head was also bandaged from what little Bruce could see under the hood of the thick sweater.

Whatever they had been through was clearly no small matter.

“Who’s all here?” John asked as he entered, looking around the foyer as he slunk into the room.

The kids stayed close to his back.

“Just Alfred and Tim. Alfred is in the kitchen and Tim is up in his room, though he was excited to know that there would be other teens visiting,” Bruce said, keeping his personage open and calm.

Excited was at least an honest enough word for Tim’s curiosity that Bruce had tone his bet to tamper. It didn’t seem the time to pry and Bruce was sure to learn far more as he set up the new identities.

John’s frown said he knew exactly what excited meant for Tim.

“He can help us instead if you’d rather,” Bruce offered to keep the peace, “but I thought that the kids might enough just playing some video games and enjoying Alfred’s snacks while we worked.”

“Stop that,” John said.

“Stop what?” Bruce said, blinking guilelessly.”

“Making fuck’n sense.”

The kid in the hood muffled a laugh into the thick fabric. The sound made Bruce smile. It wasn’t so very bad if they could still laugh. It meant that there was still hope.

“Tim is my current foster,” Bruce said, as that was the easiest way to explain things. “I would guess he’s around your ages. And I’m Bruce, a friend of John’s.”

John snorted. “He comes off as a rich playboy, but he’s one of the good ones, if you’ll believe that.”

“Thanks for that rousing endorsement,” Bruce said dryly.

John just grinned back, his smile a little more teeth than normal.

“I’m Danny,” the one in the hood said, still mostly hidden behind the redhead. The voice was scratchy, like it have been overused recently. The fingers that clung to the too large flannel shirt the redhead wore were covered in bandages. “This is my sister Jazz.”

Jazz regarded him with frozen blue eyes. “If you do anything to hurt him, I will find some way to hurt you worse.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce said calmly. “All I want to do is what John asked me to: which is to make you new identities so that you will be safe. Well, I would also hope that you both could relax some and enjoy some of Alfred’s cooking. His cookies especially are something amazing.”

Jazz searched his gaze for a moment longer before almost reluctantly nodding.

“Would you be alright with Tim joining you two?” Bruce asked.

Jazz glanced back at Danny before nodding again.

“Let me show you to the media room then,” Bruce said and started leading the group that way. He kept up idle chatter about some of the games he knew that Tim had been playing just to fill the silence and make everything seem less threatening.

It was still hard to speak of Tim like a son, but easier than it had been when Bruce had been the very broken and irrational man Tim had first come to. If Gotham’s spirit hadn’t thrown a fit, if Constantine hadn’t gotten involved… Bruce hated to think how things might have continued. Bruce hated to think what sort of mentor and guardian he might have been to the boy.

It was hard, but it was better like this.

Bruce opened the door to the media room with a smile. “Make yourself a home. I’ll send Tim down and either he’ll bring snacks with him or Alfred, a demure British man who isn’t a serous as he seems, will bring them in.”

“Right, thanks,” Jazz said and pulled her brother inside with her. She closed the door on them.

Bruce looked at Constantine who rubbed calloused hands over his face.

“Yeah, mate, it’s… it’s rough.”

Bruce reached out and clasped his shoulder in commiseration.

---

AN: This was still stuck in my head so have some more! I'm thinking end game Danny/Jason, because it's me, and Jazz/Steph because Steph deserves to be a disaster bi with her own fierce, magic user redhead.

Obvious canon divergence due to the added ghostliness.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I'm not saying yandere Dick Grayson would baby trap his darling...but he most definitely would

Warnings: toxic and abusive themes. forced domesticated life, mentions of baby trapping, purposeful weight gain, manipulation, dick is a good hubby though, he's just so desprate

Please just hear me out on this concept. Now i've said before that Dick Grayson would've realistically had to put a halt on his personal life and relationships because alongside being nightwing and keeping his family together, it'd just be too much.

Could you imagine Yandere! Dick is like hitting his mid-thirties at this point, work is growing old and all of his siblings are just about adults and he's exhausted. One day, the siblings are all just chilling around the mansion and the topic of what they plan to do with their life after being a vigilante comes up. Dick hadn't though about it ever because well...this consumed every minute of his life but he figured he'd probably settle down and start a family. Jokingly one of his siblings said, "How could you ever find time for another family when you're already the matriarch of this one?", and it just hasn't left his mind since.

Fast forward and he's sitting in a dinner alone after patrol and he's just watching this family and their kids and it just hits him that he'll never have that at the rate he's going. If he doesn't end up dead from his work, he'd probably end up rotting in that mansion alone because he's too busy fixing the messes Bruce made with the others. He's been a "father" to his siblings since his teen years and he has not much to show for it. I mean he's proud of all of them but...he's still just their older brother...

He goes home and is thinking about just how happy that father looked while throwing his kids up in the air...or how beautiful his wife looked carrying their unborn child. He envied how simple and perfect their life was. They didn't have to miss out on life to fight crime around the clock or to piece back together something he never broke. They could happily go home..with each other and be proud of what they've made. He's looking back at his life and while he knows he's accomplished so much but being an actual dad is something he'll never get a chance to be. Not while he's still playing as the head of Bruce's household.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who now wants to be a father so badly and to come home to a pretty wife who truly loved him. Not just some one nighter who couldn't see past his body.

He met you by chance a few weeks later. It was while he was grabbing food before his nightly patrol, and the spark was like never before. It was fate. or delusion You were destined to be his pretty wife and be his ticket out of that mess. You're so perfect

Dick is maybe a little too eager to make his desires a reality. Like he's completely ready to let go of his previous familial duties to make way for his new ones. It's a huge shift but it's a necessary one. This is his Fiona Gallagher moment. He's steadily loosening the grip and ignoring calls to be fully focused on you. Dick wants to prove he'll be a great husband who won't neglect you for anyone else even if they're as close as family. He can't let them get in the way anymore.

He doesn't care if he has to manipulate his way into your heart, he's going to have you. He's the only one that'd ever be as good to you as he will be. There's not even a money limit on how much he's willing to pour into this process. If it takes paying your rent or car note to prove he's provider material...then so be it. Anything for the future mother of his children.

!Yandere Dick Grayson who doesn't even know if you want kids or marriage but he's so far gone in his own fantasies that he just assumes you have the same goals as he...even if you don't...you soon will..I like to think he slowly shifts you into being a stay at home girlfriends and floods your mind with ideas of this being your purpose. He needs you to know just how great you are at being domestic...this isn't so bad right? You could do this for the rest of your life!

Like i said he doesn't mind throwing money at you if it'll make you desire this life with him. Besides, he prefers you to be financially dependent on him. You are so shy when you ask him for things but he loves knowing that you need him, just like a good wife does.

First he's just always wanting you over his house for cute dates, then it's becoming a weekender situation...then a few days out of the week and now you practically live with him.

In the meantime he's doing subtle things like cooking dinner and breakfast with you at the same times every day. This is so you'll automatically start doing this on your own and so you know what he likes and at what time. He's got you doing shopping runs for the home. He's a sneaky little shit who asks you to throw in his laundry and clean up his messes while he's at work. He of course compensates you for being such a great helper. Your new job is here at his home. It fills him up with so much joy when he comes home and all your tasks are completed.

Yandere! Dick who is always surprising you with foods and snacks you cannot resist to make you plumper for when you're carrying his baby. Of course he's denying the allegations when you jokingly tease him about making you fat on purpose but we know the truth. Still, he's loving your body regardless, it needs to be healthy with extra fats to keep your children protected. He can barely contain himself though when he sees your little stomach pudge , it gets him all too excited for the real deal. It makes him feel all the less guilty about tampering with the contraceptives when he thinks about how gorgeous you'll be when you're swollen with his baby. I mean you're already this cute with a little bloat.

Oh just the thought of you walking around in public and everyone who sees you know that you're already claimed..ugh He doesn't know what to do with himself. You're all his and no one can steal you away from him. Not when you don't have any time. You're too busy taking care of the home and the baby to be bothered by anything else.

You won't be too mad at him, right? I mean just so desperate to have a quiet new life. He wants to be a father so bad, please let him have this. He'll be so so good for you and the baby.....he needs this.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this kids), semi-public sex (don’t do this either), jealous jack, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 3.7k

💌 from me to you: you asked, and you shall receive. thank u so much for all the love you all gave to TM(HTMHC) and i hope this final chapter can make u guys happy. sorry if it sucks, though. hope y’all still like me :,)

𖧷

AS YOU put on Trevor’s jersey, you contemplate tonight's game.

It’s November again; the leaves keep falling from the trees, the wind is still cold and impersonal. You’re still tired from all the studying, constantly reevaluating yourself and staying up until late at night to write papers.

Life is still as simple as it was before everything. Before crushing on Zack, before going back to Newark in Summer, before sleeping with Jack Hughes, although— Is it really?

You and Jack hadn’t done anything in months. After fucking him for the last time, you woke up with a Trevor Zegras holding a Hockey stick and ready to break it in half with the help of Jack’s head, which made you snap at him.

“What is your problem, Trevor?!” You yell, barely awake and already pissed off at your brother’s doing. “Why are you here at seven in the morning, yelling at Jack and— is that a stick?”

Trevor lifts it up proudly, like he’s okay with beating Jack up. “Yeah, it is! And it’s about to see Jack’s pretty face.”

“Well—” Jack tries, but you’re not hearing any of it.

“Stop acting like I’m fifteen or whatever. If I want to have sex with him, then I will.”

“What— oh my God. See, this is why I never wanted you to be friends with her. They always end up falling in love, man,” Trevor shouts at Jack, who’s doing his best to hold in his laughter. It isn’t doing much, though. “Sarah, Jack isn’t the right guy for you! He’s a man whore!”

“Y’know I’m still here righ—”

“I don’t care, Trevor, geez,” you sit down on Jack’s couch, covering your face with your hands before speaking again. “I understand why you’re upset and I appreciate the fact that you’re taking care of me, but I’m an adult. I know how to take care of myself.”

“You’re twenty—”

“Besides,” Jack starts, this time his face is serious and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. “I’m not gonna hurt her, you asshole. Have a little faith in me, no?”

“No?” Trevor scoffs, putting the stick down. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking Sarah can’t stand up for herself, or that I will do anything to hurt her, intentionally. Like she’s just another one. Fuck off, Z.”

Trevor wouldn’t stop commenting about the two of you together, even when Jack wasn’t around you. It was tiring to say the least, so you decided to take the matter into your own hands and tell Jack that you were both done.

It was ridiculous, really, since you’ve grown to appreciate Jack’s company, not only as a friend, but as a possible future partner. Getting away from him wasn’t ideal, but if that was you needed to make Trevor shut up, then you’d do it.

Occasionally, you’d text each other, just normal conversations about how you’re doing, and how you’d wish you were together rather than studying for finals.

But today, the Devils were in Anaheim, playing against your brother’s team and you were going to watch them, for the first time ever. Not only you, though. It looks like all of your colleagues and friends are going— you’ve lost count of how many people texted you asking for free tickets.

You were agitated, since everything could go wrong tonight: your brother could go crazy and risk a penalty for punching Jack in the face, you and Jack would see each other after months and Zack was also going to be there.

In your defense, it hadn’t been your idea in the first place. Kiara suggested that you give the extra ticket Trevor gave to you to him, because it’d be a good excuse to talk to him and to leave the whole Jack situation behind.

But the truth is, you’re not really sure if you want to “leave the whole Jack situation behind”. You like him and you know he likes you back. Even though you had the biggest infatuation for Zack, it didn’t hold a candle to what Jack made you feel whenever he was inside you.

But, oh, well.

Now, it’s probably too late to ask Jack to try again. And even if it made you feel a little weird, you knew it was probably best this way.

𖧷

“OH, MAN, I can’t believe we lost.”

Zack’s complaints make you laugh. “I mean, it was kinda obvious. But, yeah, losing 6-2 is really tough.”

“We played well, though,” Kiara adds, trying to sound convincing. You and Zack both funnily stare at each other, choosing not to say anything. “Y’all are just mean. Sarah, it’s your brother’s team!”

“I know, I know,” you snicker. “Sorry. I’ll tell him he played well.”

“You’re seeing him tonight?” Zack asks, his brown eyes expressing curiosity. “Can I come? The Devils are fucking awesome!”

“Yes, we have, like, a little get together party, if you know what I mean,” you shrug, biting your lips. “I mean, you can definitely come if you want.”

Kiara eyes you eagerly as Zack smiles brightly at you, saying “thank you” at least a thousand times and rambling about how excited he was to meet actual NHL players in person.

You didn’t know if it had been a good idea to invite him, but you just felt bad to leave him out of the celebration— or what was supposed to be a celebration before Anaheim lost 6-2— since he was a huge Hockey fan. And even if you’re not all that interested in him anymore, he’s cool to hang out with.

Ever since you came back from Newark you’ve been spending more time with Zack. If anyone asks you anything, you won’t be able to tell them why is that, but you’re not complaining. It’s probably due to fact that you’re not that interested in him anymore, so you don’t have to worry about pleasing him all the time.

Now, you had much more interesting people to please.

You all walk to the dinner hall, where a bunch of players and coaches were talking and dining together, the Devils being loud and proud after a well played game, while most of the Ducks had pouty lips and frowns.

You walked around with Zack and Kiara, and quickly finding your brother, his loud voice outstanding everyone else’s.

“Holy fuck, that’s Jack Hughes.” Zack said, his tone not hiding his surprise and admiration.

You immediately turn your head to the side, confirming that Jack Hughes is, indeed, just a few steps ahead of you, chatting with your brother and a bunch of other players.

“Well, well, well…” Kiara whispers beside you and you discreetly shove her with your elbow, making her shove you back, playfully.

“I mean, we don’t have to talk to them right now, right?” You say, trying to find a way out. “They’re probably sad. I’d be sad if I lost a game.”

“Girl, what are you talking about?” Kiara rolls her eyes, clearly not taking a hint.

“Sarah, you can’t be serious!” Zack laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward. You widen your eyes, staring at his hand covering yours and then looking back at Kiara, who just looks like she’s having the time of her life.

Zack keeps his hand around yours as you approach your brother’s group, Jack’s eyes finding yours immediately before falling to your hands.

“Oh, hey there, ugly duck,” Trevor smiles at you, and you take advantage of the opportunity so you can separate your hand from Zack’s, walking until you’re hugging Trevor tighter than you had ever done before. “What the hell, why are you squeezing me?”

You wanted to punch him. “Oh, I just feel so sorry for you guys!” You try to sound devastated. “Losing is tough.”

“They’re used to it, aren’t you, chickens?” Bratt says, making people around you laugh, as your brother’s frown deepened.

“Fuck you.” Vatrano hisses back, and you let go of Trevor, standing beside him.

Someone calls some of the guys, and you almost yell at them so that they wouldn’t leave, but they do, leaving you alone with Trevor and. Well, Jack.

“I’m a huge fan!” Zack starts, smiling at Jack like he’s God almighty himself.

“Oh, really.” Jack says, and you can tell he’s not even trying to sound nice. You frown.

“Yeah. Ever since you joined the NHL. A long time ago.” Zack probably doesn’t notice Jack’s lack of manners, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything, continuing the conversation eagerly.

“Are you calling me old?” Jack raises his eyebrows, and Zack laughs, clearly oblivious.

Trevor eyes you weirdly, already familiar with Jack’s attitude problem.

“This sassy mean apocalypse needs to stop.” Kiara whispers in your ear and you’re seriously just two steps away from shoving her again.

“I was talking to my girl over there, you guys are fucking awesome and—”

“Your girl?”

You see, usually you’d expect this question to come out of Trevor’s lips, since he’s the most annoying person in the world. But once you saw Jack’s eyes turning a deep, ocean blue shade and his face starting to get red, you realize, with surprise, that Jack was the one who asked that.

You stare at him, but he wouldn’t look at you. He was staring at Zack, with his hands in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah, Sarah.”

A year ago you wouldn’t believe if anyone told you that you would want to kill Zack Brian with your own two hands, but at this moment, it’s all you want to do.

Why the hell is he talking about you like that?

“I didn’t know you were dating, Sarah.”

You gulp, looking up at Jack’s upset face, shaking your head immediately.

“Yeah, little sis, I also didn’t know you were dating.” Trevor said, wanting to sound angry, but you knew him well enough to realize that he was holding back his laughter, just like the little shit he is.

“I’m not— Zack and I aren’t dating.” You stutter, alternately looking at Jack and Trevor.

“Oh. You’re Zack?”

Jack can’t fucking be serious.

Zack is happy and smiling again. “Hell yes I am! Can we, like, take a picture together or something?”

This time, Trevor steps in and coughs, politely interrupting the conversation and finally— finally— doing something about this whole mess. “Sorry, man, can’t do it. We have to head back to the party, otherwise our coaches will kill us.”

You knew it was a lie, Keefe and Cronin didn’t care whether their players took pictures with people or missed parties. As long as they stayed out of trouble and played well, they didn’t really mind their players’ personal lives.

But you wouldn’t say anything, not when you were already in trouble.

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s cool,” Zack shrugs, not hiding his disappointment. You almost pass out when you catch a glimpse of a smile on Jack’s lips. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of other opportunities.”

“Sure, sure,” Trevor smiles, throwing his arms around you once again. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, I—” you look around, biting your lips. “I don’t want to leave Zack alone.”

Even though you did want to leave him alone, you just couldn’t. He had been so excited when you invited him to the game, talking about it for an entire week before tonight.

“He can come too.”

You stare at Jack, not missing the way his lips curled up, and his eyes still looked darker.

“Type shit? You really are the goat, man, fuck yeah!” Zack celebrates and you stare at Kiara, who’s also looking a little bit worried now.

“Great,” you say through your teeth, stepping away from Trevor. “Let’s go, then.”

God, please help me.

𖧷

“SO, FOR how long have you and Sarah been friends?”

You wanted to smash Trevor’s face against a wall and twist his arm until he started crying.

You were sitting at his table, surrounded by other players, Kiara, Zack, Luke and Jack. Fortunately, Kiara had been successful at keeping Jack and Luke bored with her stories about college drama, so Jack wasn’t really focusing on you, or Zack for that matter.

Unlike Trevor, who’s constantly making remarks about your friendship.

“Not long.” You answer, shooting daggers at him with your eyes.

“But you seem really close.” He insists, smiling innocently.

“Sarah’s really cool,” Zack starts, and again you remind yourself that if he had said this not even seven months ago, you’d be smiling and dancing. But now, all you want is to tell him to leave. “We get along really well.”

“She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she? I’m glad to call her my sister.”

“Trevor,” you smile, kicking him under the table. “Stop it.”

“No, no, I like when people compliment you. Makes me proud—”

You get up abruptly, making at least five people look at you, Jack included. Blushing, you smile awkwardly. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Walking fast, you make your way to the bathroom, walking down an empty hallway, finding the bathroom quickly. You got in, thanking God that no one was in there.

Jesus. What the hell is going on with both Jack and Trevor?

You understood if Jack was upset with you, because if it was the other way around, you would be just the same, even if you weren’t an actual couple. But Trevor helping the fire grow? He’s just being a child.

“He’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.”

Letting out a yelp, you stare at the man you’ve been thinking of everyday since the Summer, who’s now leaning against the bathroom door and smirking at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Well, you’re clearly not peeing,” he starts, approaching you slowly. “And I can’t stand that dick face anymore. Does he not know that complimenting you to your brother won’t get him anything?”

“Leave him alone, Jack,” you roll your eyes. “He’s just being nice.”

“He’s into you. You know that, right?”

You scoff, finding it genuinely funny. “Of course he isn’t. We’re just friends. He’s just being nice, I just told you.”

“I thought you were a smart girl.” He wets his lips and not looking at it feels like fighting against ten thousand demons.

“Are you calling me dumb? To my face?” You raise your brow, watching as he frowns.

“I’m just saying that I thought you weren’t so oblivious, baby. When I told you you’re everyone’s type? I meant it.”

“Jack,” you sigh, defeated. “Why are we having this conversation?”

“Because,” he steps closer, looking down at you. “It drives me insane to think that there’s a fuckhead sitting just a few feet away from us that thinks he’s the shit and won’t take your name out of his mouth.”

Your eyes softened, and you smile at him. “You’re jealous.”

“That’s for people who are insecure, baby. And that you already know that I’m not,” he smirks, resting his right hand on your chin, and you can feel his breath hit your face, making you hold back an embarrassing sound. “Do you need me to remind you how good I am?”

Your eyes double in size and you shake your head.

“Are you insane?” You shout-whisper. “You’re supposed to be back in New Jersey in a few hours. This is your team’s celebration dinner, for God’s sake. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

He kisses you bruisingly, your teeth touching with the agressive yet extremely sweet action, and you moan inside his mouth, not realising, until now, how much you’ve missed him.

It was wrong but not kissing him felt even more wrong.

He gently pushes you further into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and putting you on the counter, making you hiss with the coldness of the marble against your exposed thighs and throbbing core.

“Jack.”

“Fuck, I missed hearing you say my name. One more time for me, pretty.”

“Jack.”

He kisses you again, and you busy yourself with messing up his hair, still a little bit damp from his previous shower. It smells nice and fresh, just like the rest of his body.

“We need to be quick,” You whisper against his mouth, his eyes staring at you, lust and desire written all over his face. “We’re not even supposed to be here and we don’t have time—”

“Put your hands on that wall over there,” he whispers, signaling to the wall on the other side of the bathroom. “I’m gonna fuck you from behind. Is that okay?”

“As long as you fuck me.” You shrug, getting off the counter and doing as he says.

He laughs. “I’ve created a monster.”

He’s quickly behind you, and you hear the filthy sound of his hands unzipping his fancy pants, as you quickly lift your skirt, putting your panties to the side.

“Spit.” Jack asks— orders—, putting his hand in front of your lips, and you do, the red that painted your cheeks deepening.

He’s inside you not long after that, and you both moan loudly, forgetting for a few seconds that there are at least one hundred people outside. You can feel your walls squeezing his cock as you try to find some kind of support on the wall in front of you.

“Jesus fuck, Sarah, how are you even tighter than last time?”

“Because, ah,” he’s pouding against you, the sound of his crouch slapping against your ass making you feel dirty and so fucking good. “Haven’t been with a-anyone else.”

“No?” You can hear the smirk on his face. “Just your little fingers then?”

You nod with your head, eagerly moving it up and down, moaning loudly and just a few seconds away from ruining your makeup.

“Baby, you need to be quiet,” Jack says, and his hand slowly leaves your waist, making its way to your mouth, caressing your entire body before it covers your lips completely. “I love it when you’re loud but have you forgotten we’re not alone?”

You roll your eyes at him, as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that makes you see the entire galaxy without needing a telescope. His dick is deep inside you, so fucking deep.

“Jack, fu—”

“Sarah?”

You and Jack both freeze as Zack’s voice echoes through the room. He removes his hand from your mouth and rests his forehead against your head.

“Oh my God.” You whisper, ready to remove yourself from Jack’s grip and leave the bathroom.

Jack doesn’t have the same thought as you, though. He removes his length until just the tip is inside you, just to slam his cock inside of you again, reaching deeper than before.

You bite your lips hardly, feeling the taste of coper fill your mouth, the pain of tearing your lips hardly noticeable— your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that it seemed too insignificant to be preoccupied with a little bit of blood.

“Sarah, are you okay?”

“Answer him,” Jack whispers, as he keeps fucking you, this time reaching down and rubbing your swollen clit too. “Sarah. Answer him.”

“I— I—,” stuttering, you try to focus. “Y-yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

Jack pinches your sensitive nub and you can feel the tears start to form in your eyes.

“Pretty.”

“I’m, f-fine, ah,” you shake your head, putting your hand on top of Jack’s but not making any move to stop him. “Just— headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want any help?”

“Fucking asshole,” Jack mumbles, your orgasm building up quickly than ever. “Tell him you’re fine, baby. Come on.”

“I’m fine, ah, thank you.” Biting your own hand, you feel your body shivering underneath Jack’s. “I’ll be b-back in just a second.”

“Alright,” Zack sounds convinced. “I’ll warn your brother.”

Even with your loud breathing you can hear Zack’s steps as he gets further away from the bathroom, and you barely have time to think properly before Jack is slamming his cock hard and fast inside of you again.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, tell me. Does it turn you on the fact that anyone could catch us at any moment?”

Yes.

“Too bad I don’t share what’s mine.”

“Jack—”

“Fucking asshole wanted to be the one inside you right now,” he snarls. “No one will ever fuck you like I do, baby.”

“Hmh,”

“This pussy here,” he pinches your clit again, twisting it between his fingers making you gasp for air. “Will only get this wet for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“You were made to take my cock, baby. Made to be mine.”

Your makeup was most definitely ruined by now. It didn’t matter. Your mind was too focused on coming to care about anything else.

“Say it, baby, come on.” Jack whispers in your ear, kissing your neck afterwards.

“It’s yours, Jack,” you nod with your head, feeling your orgasm closer than before. “I’m yours, and I missed you so bad and—”

You come on his fingers, your thighs shaking as he continues to poud on you, not caring if you’re sensitive or not. He takes his dick out of your pussy after a few more thrusts, coming all over your cheeks.

Your uncontrolled breathing fills up the entire room, the smell of sex and sweat making you blush. Jack’s forehead is on your shoulder, and you can sense he’s just as tired as you.

“Sarah,” he mumbled, and you sigh, humming. “Be my girlfriend. I don’t care about Zegras, I never did. I’ll let him beat me up everyday if that means you’ll be the one helping me get up at the end of the day.”

You chuckle tiredly. “So romantic, aren’t you, Hughes?”

“I try my best.” He murmurs against your skin.

“I will be your girlfriend. But just know that if you cheat on me, or anything like that, Trevor will fuck you up, and I’ll let him.” You say, laughing quietly.

He moves so he can grab a piece of paper, wetting it and cleaning you, making you shiver with the cold water on your back.

“If my own brothers don’t kill me first.”

“Touche.”



[e-nonsense]

TELL ME YOU SEE ME

pairing. jason todd x reader

warnings. reader is a little pathetic, character death and revival, eventual smut, sub!jason, soft dom!reader, virgin!jason, lots and lots of consent

request. here

a/n. thank you both for this ask, not sure if this is what you wanted exactly, i couldn’t really fit it all in with what i had going

you giggled as dick grumbled about the piece of gum stuck in his hair, your legs swinging over the ledge of the building he’d cornered you on.

the former robin had followed you after you’d ���stolen’ jewels. turns out selina had taken off with hem and you were just the distraction. but that didn’t stop you from playing your usual pranks.

like that time you superglued bruce’s utility belt closed, or put little animal stickers on the cowl of his suit.

all that had changed so quickly. the lightheartedness and awkwardness you emitted had disappeared.

everyone saw how losing him changed you. you weren’t loud and weird anymore, you’d stick to yourself, keeping your weird thoughts to yourself. actually now that you think about it you didn’t have many weird thoughts anymore.

maybe they died with jason too.

“oh come on. i haven’t done anything wrong, have i?” you grinned at the robin in front of you. there was a hint of a smile on his lips, head tilted at you.

“i guess not, but i am gonna need gordon’s glasses back.”

“buzzkill, birdy.” you pout before pulling the glasses off your face and handing them over to him with a grumble.

“thanks kitty cat,” jason grins, before leaving to go back on patrol.

you were half asleep, dreams of him haunted you every night. you’d see his face all the time, flashes of his brutal state would come over you, you remember his funeral too, well the one you and dick had for him because bruce buried him without everyone.

“hey kid,” dick muttered, his hand on your shoulder as he looked down at his brother’s grave. this was the last thing the first robin thought would happen when he got back from space.

you don’t say anything, no jokes or pranks. you just stand there like a peace of you was in that grave with him.

you spun in your chair waiting for the computer to finish decrypting the information dick had brought to you. you’d broken through the locks and safety measured on the drive easily.

apparently it belonged to some new criminal mob boss, red hood, he called himself. you hadn’t encountered him yet, you assumed your turn to meet this lunatic was soon or never, seeing as nobody new about your whereabouts these days, except dick.

and there. you were in. you grabbed your phone to make the call to dick.

you heard it before you felt it, the soft click of a gun and then the cold nozzle pressed up against your neck. “i wouldn’t.”

the voice was distorted, your fingers stilled against your key board.

“you’re a hard person to find, kitty cat. very hard, i leave for six years and then you’re off the grid too. but i finally found you.”

“excuse me?” stupid, you scold yourself in you mind, what idiot snarks when— oh yeah, you would.

he laughed, a cold, creepy sound coming from what you assumed to be a voice modulator. then you heard a soft hiss of air and a thud, his helmet placed on the desk in front of you.

“c’mon kitty cat. you don’t remember me?” he uses the gun to tip your head back.

“what..?” your eyes widen as you stare up at him.

“ah, there you go. you’ve changed, not as much spunk and crazy anymore.”

you snatched the purse of some mugger, knocking him out before handing it back to the lady he stole it from. the woman smiles before going on her way. you hummed softly as jason landed in the alley in front of you, “nice work, kitty.”

you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grinning proudly at his praise, you were sure if you had a real tail it’d be wagging happily right now. “really?”

“oh yeah,” he nods, even at sixteen jason wasn’t completely a fool, he could tell how much his words meant to you.

he stared down at you. “c’mon kitty cat, i’m gonna need those files back. can you do that f’me?” was it mean to use your feelings against you like this? yes, definitely but jason was also trying to determine whether or not you still had those feeling for him too.

your shake your head, dick needs these files to stop red hood. but jason is red hood, so you’d be hurting him— no you have to help dick.

“i can’t.”

“sure you can, just take it out and give it here.”

“no.”

he pressed the gun harder into your neck, reminding you that it was an option, but he wouldn’t pull the trigger, it’d be useless to anyways. the gun was unloaded, not a single bullet inside, he couldn’t risk accidentally shooting you.

“fine,” you scoff, unplugging the hard drive and handing it over.

“i’ll see you soon kitty cat.” he leaves, leaving his helmet behind with you, the camera in it would keep an eye on you and you most definitely wouldn’t give the helmet up, he knew that.

it wasn’t long later until you saw him next. he didn’t intend to stay away anymore. this time when he came to you, it had properly registered in your mind. this was jason, jason was back.

so when you hugged him so suddenly, words tumbling out of your mouth messily. “i missed you so much.” you whisper, arms tight around him.

you sniffled and his heart broke, fingers gently running through your hair as he held you. his body tensing when the words ‘i love you’ escaped your lips. you hadn’t seem to realised because you kept going on, soft rambling, refusing to let him go.

he tried to speak, only to be cut off by you once more.

“i didn’t know how to say it, but you always got me.” you whisper, looking up at him. “tell me you see me.”

“i see you, doll.”

—

you didn’t expect him to be a virgin.

not with the looks of a god and the voice of an angel.

but you embraced the fact, you loved it even that he wanted you as his first. even though you were the one begging, on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

“can i touch you?” your fingers hover over his undressed body, he nodded.

“words, jay.”

“y-yeah.” he shivers under your touch, a soft groan leaving him.

“you’re so pretty,” you murmur, meeting his eyes as you lick a strip up his cock, swirling your tongue around his head. “taste so sweet too.”

his hand grips the sheets, staring at the arch of your back and the way your ass sticks up. you take his hand, leading towards your hair, “can i?”

“yeah, yeah go ahead, kitty.”

your lashes flutter as i pushes your head down towards his cock, you mouth falling open immediately to suck him up. you hum softly, as if you were gaining more pleasure from this than he was.

he holds your hair out of your face while you gag on the sheer length of him, his cock so thick it stretches your mouth open so far that you know your jaw will ache this time tomorrow.

he groans out your name, shameless with his noises. he pulls you off him, you whine trying to go down on him again, he thinks he could cum at the sight. “i wanna feel you, please.”

you can’t deny him, not when his big icy blue eyes stare down at you.

jason todd does not fuck like a virgin. you learn that when he can’t seem to stop fucking you into the bed. gasping into your ear while you babble on about how good he is.

how pretty he is.

how nobody could understand you like him.

how much you love him.

he can barely hold himself in but he doesn’t wanna stop right now.

“oh— oh jay.” you whimper softly, “so so good.”

he’ll wait, just to hear your little praises and whines, to hear that you love him.

“i know, i know baby. i love you too.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[goodlucktai]

only going up from here

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: leo & mikey i wrote this for one of my very favorite people and best friends, the bentley to my bookshop and ben to my sammy and mikey to my leo. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @mykimouser! i'm genuinely better off for having you in my life, it would be significantly darker around here without you. i hope your day is absolutely amazing and you're surrounded by people who love you and you get everything you want forever <3 title borrowed from bummerland by AJR read on ao3

x

If you asked Mikey if he was protective of Leo, he would say of course he is! He wouldn’t even have to think about it, what kind of question is that? He’s protective of everything and everyone he loves, and he loves all his siblings more than life itself.  

If you asked Mikey if he was overprotective of Leo, he would say whaaaat? I don’t—I think you’re breaking up actually, shhhcchhkkchhssh—and he’d artfully dodge the conversation by literally sprinting away from it.

The thing is, Mikey knows how annoying it is to have well-meaning loved ones go into hypervigilant mode anytime they come within a five-foot radius of your person. He’s been lobbying since he was twelve for Raph to take the kid gloves off! And throw them far away!! Down a deep hole that Donnie could fill with cement and Leo could plant fake biohazard warning signs around so that no one would ever dare excavate!! 

But Leo has always been independent, more than any of the rest of them. More than maybe he really wanted to be. He takes care of himself, like he has to—like there aren’t a half dozen people around him who would happily do it, who want to do it, who would jump at the first chance to prove that he can depend on them for anything. 

Mikey doesn’t know when Leo got this idea in his head that dealing with him is a chore but it’s an idea that grew up with him. That grew about ten feet taller after the Krang invasion. It’s always towering over them, keeping Leo even further from the people who love him with both its long unwanted arms. 

Sometimes Mikey can slink past those arms and find the hole that Leo hides in and climb in there with him. He’s the best at it, because he’s the smallest, and the one their enemy’s eyes tend to jump right over when they’re sussing out a fight. He can go places the others can’t. And it’s a rule of the universe that once he gets within hugging distance of his brothers, they’re compelled at a molecular level to hug him. 

When they’re holed up together, in that place Leo goes to when he’s alone, it gets a little warmer but it’s still cold. It feels like one of those early winter mornings when the shadows are the longest and darkest and cover more ground than they do the rest of the year and Mikey is just waiting for that spring thaw. He’s been waiting for what feels like forever, but he knows it’ll come. He knows it will.

Two months after the invasion, the sun peeks out.  

“I’m going to tío’s,” Leo announces to the lair, one foot out the door already. 

There’s an immediate crash from the lab, and the familiar sound of a weighted barbell falling on a snapper’s chest from the dojo, as two older brothers scramble to either throw their entire weight into stopping him somehow (impossible) or at least convince him that one of them should tag along (more likely, but Leo would not be happy about it). 

Mikey scrambles from his upside-down seat on the sofa to poke his head over the back of it and call out, “Can I come?” 

Leo glances back down the hall, probably calculating the seconds until his quick escape is botched, but then he looks back at Mikey with that crooked, mischievous smile that’s been Mikey’s favorite since he was two.

“Grab your shoes, Miguelito. We’re prison breaking.” 

“Gimme two shakes!” Mikey says over his shoulder, already bolting for his room. 

Mikey’s arms have mostly healed up from the golden portal he opened into the Prison Dimension. There isn’t a crack or a scar left but the lingering nerve damage is killer. The colorful custom arm braces that Draxum sourced for him help a lot and he’s good about remembering to wear them—so there is really no reason for their entire family to be such worrywarts about it. Especially when Don’s shell is still too tender for battle armor and Raph’s lucky he can still see out of his right eye. 

“It’s because you’re both the babies,” April said a few weeks into their collective recovery period, poking Mikey right on the beak that he had wrinkled in frustration. “The youngest in the whole clan. Even Casey Jr.’s older than you two. Deal with it.” 

Donatello is technically a month older than his twin, not that either of them care about pesky things like birth dates. They’re twins in their souls. Even though that means Leo has to grit his teeth and plot convoluted revenge when Donnie dares play the older twin card. 

But also, Mikey knows even though no one has come out and said it, they’re the two who scared the rest of their family the most. 

Donnie and Raph did what they had to do because it was their direct responsibility. Donnie was the only person alive who could have piloted the Technodrome with some degree of success even without his ninpo-powered technopathy. And Raph gave Leo his escape pod because his top priorities have always started and ended with his little brothers. If there had been another way out, he would have taken it. 

Mikey was willing to disintegrate to get Leo out, holding that portal open even though it hurt, even though every ounce of instinct and intuition was telling him to let go, even though he had no way of really knowing it would work the way he wanted it to. Leo threw himself feet first into hell for the rest of them and came out the other side broken and bleeding and traumatized, and he wasn’t sorry he did it. He would do it again, and again, and again. 

So—Mikey gets it. He does. 

It doesn’t stop him from cramming his Jordans on and snatching up the nearest hoodie—pink; he never gave that back to Raphie, oops. He whirls around to find Leo in his doorway, sword slung over his shoulder, weight braced on the neon blue foldable crutch in his opposite arm. 

“Little rowdy back there,” Leo says peacefully, regarding the state of chaos in the lair as their older brothers actively hunt them down. “Let’s take off from here.”

“You got it, boss,” Mikey chirps, hopping in place as he ties his shoe. 

The cyan portal opens as easily as April opens her bedroom window to usher them in for a movie night, bright and inviting. Having opened a portal of his own, Mikey has a brand-new appreciation for how incredible Leo’s ninpo is. He’s never hesitated to hop right through, even back when Leo was still getting the hang of it—either he’ll go where he’s meant to, or he’ll have a fun adventure wherever he does end up. Literally win-win. 

He steps out into Run of the Mill’s back of house. A harried server pauses mid-step to give him a strange look. Then she visibly clocks the blue of the portal behind him, rolls her eyes and continues on her way. Mikey beams at her retreating figure. She should know who Leo is, Leo is the best. 

Leo takes long enough to join him that Mikey has started poking around in the dry storage area. 

“Raph caught me,” Leo says faux-somberly. “I let him know we’d be home by dinner.” 

“With some calzones as a peace offering,” Mikey says with a nod, matching his grave tone. It makes Leo crack a smile, because it’s always charming to him when his siblings commit to the bit. 

“Can I please get through for a can of tomato paste,” a salamander yokai in an apron and unnecessary hairnet says loudly from behind them. Oh, they are kind of just hogging the whole doorway, huh?

“Weeeell, since you said please,” Leo replies, steering Mikey by the shoulders out of dry storage through the prep kitchen and out the employees-only door. 

Mikey ambles along agreeably, and accepts the hot basket of mozzy sticks Leo plops into his hands without questioning where it came from, and hops up into a seat at the bar since the dining room is pretty full. 

“I’m gonna go bug tío Hueso for a bit,” Leo says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if you do—”

“—deny everything and throw Draxum under the bus however I possibly can,” Mikey recites. He would never actually throw Draxum under the bus—unless it was a really funny bus—but they both know that so there’s no point bringing it up. 

“You’re my favorite,” Leo tells him. He knocks his knuckles on the bartop to get the attention of the rabbit yokai back there and wiggles his fingers in a wave when he has it. The yokai’s fur poofs a bit, like always, and he immediately drops the handful of forks he was holding with a noisy clatter. Then Leo whirls off to go make trouble elsewhere, crutch slowing him down not at all. 

The rabbit yokai is one Mikey knows pretty well from a hundred other afternoons just like this one. Usagi isn’t old enough to serve drinks, but he likes to roll silverware behind the bar so he can prop his phone up beneath the counter and watch TikToks. He always watches the Hamatos when they come in—maybe one Hamato in particular. 

It would probably make him less flustered around Leo if he knew that Leo’s entire family had a betting pool going on the two of them. Or maybe it would make it worse. Hmmmm. Mikey won’t mention it just in case. 

“Hi, Usagi,” Mikey says cheerfully, popping open the lid on the marinara sauce nestled into his ill-gotten gains. “Mozzy stick?”

“Hi, Mikey,” Usagi replies. “No, thanks. I’ve already eaten like a million garlic knots today and señor Hueso is making me take the leftover lasagna home since Auntie isn’t back until—” He cuts himself off, embarrassed. He always volunteers a ton of information and then wrongly assumes his friends don’t want to hear about all of that and reels himself back in. “Anyway! How are things?”

“Good!” Mikey says. “I’ve been one-hundred percenting all my Pokemon games since I’m stuck inside so much.”

Instead of remarking on that, or on the bright eye-catching colors of his arm braces, Usagi says, “Woah, even Diamond?”

“Yeah! Ohmigosh, I forgot to tell you, I caught Feebas!” Mikey pulls his phone out to show him proof, the victorious picture taken of his Switch screen. “I finally had to just lock in and totally ignore my phone for like two hours. Raph definitely thought I died when I didn’t reply to a meme Donnie sent in our group chat. Check it out!” 

Usagi leans over the bar to see and his reaction is everything Mikey could have hoped for. He gasps, “It’s a shiny?” 

“It’s a shiny!” Mikey hollers, then ducks his head a bit when the actual bartender gives the two of them a pointed look. Tucking his phone away, he says, “So what is your aunt up to? And what does it have to do with leftover lasagna?” 

“Oh! Well, she’s visiting with her sister, and I told her I could definitely fend for myself while she was gone, but yesterday there was kind of an incident with the microwave—”

Someone settles into a stool at Mikey’s right, and cuts right over Usagi to say, “Hey, Michael, right?”

Mikey glances over to find a really tall cat yokai, tawny fur with a black rosette pattern which makes Mikey think of a jaguar, except his ears are long and fluffy, and his face is distinctly more human than feline. 

“Half-right,” Mikey responds, frowning. “You just completely talked over my friend, bee tee dubs.”

“I’m sorry!” the cat is quick to apologize. “I didn’t realize you were friends, I thought he just worked here. You don’t mind, do you?” he adds to Usagi. 

Usagi has the deer-in-headlights look of someone thrust into a social interaction they Do Not Want To Have, and Mikey cringes a little at himself for it. Resolving to make it up to him later, he swivels in his seat to get the attention back on himself. 

“What’s up?” he says, hoping they can speedrun whatever this is. 

“I was just wondering how you’ve been since the invasion,” the cat says. “We haven’t seen you or your brothers around here much recently.” 

“Yeah, we’ve been spending more time at home,” Mikey says, the usual canned response they’ve taken to giving when their friends and associates wonder about their less frequent appearances lately. “We had some close calls but—you know, we won, so.” 

Usagi’s ear twitches, and his mouth turns down, and he gives the silverware he’s rolling his full attention. He has a lot of feelings about the Hamatos being involved in a huge fight that he was completely unaware of until it was long over. Mikey thinks he would have helped if they’d asked him to. He’d definitely do anything if Leo asked. But how could they ask? 

The cat yokai says, “Yeah, I saw the footage. Very impressive.” 

Mikey frowns and stops turning his seat back and forth. “Donnie—my brother wiped all the footage with us in it.” 

“I’m sure he did. But someone captured a few minutes of your battle on a scrying mirror and it made the rounds down here.”  

Ugh, magic, Mikey thinks with derision for the very first time in his life.

He makes a mental note to ask Draxum about how they can get rid of that footage, too. 

If Draxum doesn’t know, Big Mama will. Leo is her favorite. 

“Did I see Leonardo come in with you?” the yokai is saying, leaning in a little. “A few of my buddies and I, we were wondering if we could interest him in a proposal.”

A suspicious little animal in the back of Mikey’s brain sits up straight and starts paying attention. It’s weird that the guy guessed at Mikey’s name but knows Leo’s. It’s weird that he’s been paying attention to their comings and goings from the one place in the Hidden Cities they frequent regularly. And it’s weird that he has a proposal for a teenager.

On the other side of the bar, Usagi’s eyes are dark and watchful. He and Leo can talk shop about kenjutsu for hours at a time, and in this second Mikey doesn’t have trouble imagining Usagi with a sword in his hand. 

“Why?” Mikey says. 

“Those portals—I’ve never seen anything like it,” the cat says. “He could do so much with that ability. I’m sure he’s got people falling over themselves left and right to offer him work, but my employer could probably double any standing offers.” 

He still sounds surface-level friendly and admiring, but there’s a rot beneath it all, sickly-sweet. A greed. Mikey abruptly wants this guy at least one ocean and a language barrier away from himself and his big brother. 

Yeah, Leo’s portals are second-to-none. It’s incredible, the way he can think in three different places at once and account for every single sibling on the field like he’s playing 5D chess while everyone else is playing checkers. He makes it look easy because he’s Leo, and that’s what he does—he makes impossible stuff look like a breeze. Give his ninpo to a clown like this cat and they wouldn’t be able to accomplish a tenth of what Leo has in two years. Even if they had a hundred years. 

And Mikey can feel himself falling into that trap that Raphael so often falls into—that Donatello is guilty of tripping into now and then—the overprotective one. In the same second he thinks about how capable and cool Leo is, he’s thinking about how he would do anything to keep creeps like this away from him. He’s thinking about how Leo deserves to be around people who like him and appreciate him for him, and not for what he can do for them. 

“He’s sixteen,” Mikey says coldly. To him, sixteen feels very grown-up, but he makes sure to say it the way everyone else in his family constantly says it. “If he wanted a job, he’d work here.” 

“Oh, yes!” Usagi blurts. Then, “Uh, I mean, we’re hiring.” 

“A guy who can portal like that, taking pizza orders? Please,” the yokai says with an amiable grin, like they’re all in on the joke together. “Seriously, can I give you my card? Let him think about it. He could, uh—do some real good. For the community, you know? The Krang left a mark everywhere, even here. If he wanted to give back, there are lots of opportunities.” 

He takes a monochrome business card out of his wallet and slides it across the bar. Mikey doesn’t even look at it. He can feel himself getting really, properly angry. 

Leo’s too clever to get played, but he’s so guilt-motivated. He’s got that huge shadow hanging over him that convinces him so easily that he has all this stuff he has to make up for. He has all this love he has to earn. If this creep framed his job opportunity to Leo as a way to give back, to help people in the wake of an invasion he entirely blames himself for, then Leo would be lured right in. It wouldn’t even be hard. 

Michelangelo is so. Sick. Of this guy. 

“Can I just save you the time?” he says, smiling super brightly. “He’s not interested.”

The yokai’s smile fades a little, expression distinctly less friendly, but just for a second. He looks at something above Mikey’s head, and the smile stretches back out again. 

“I’ll wait to hear that from him,” the guy says, nodding to indicate something behind Mikey. 

Looking over his shoulder, Mikey sees Leo and Hueso chatting as they emerge from the office. Leo is waving his hand while he tells whatever story he’s telling, bright and animated, a far cry from that frightened boy they pulled out of the Prison Dimension. He feels safe here and he doesn’t have to put on a performance for anybody here and it shows. It’s why Raph let him go earlier without much of an argument. 

Mikey isn’t about to let anybody ruin it for him. 

Hueso wouldn’t exactly thank him for starting a brawl in his restaurant during the late lunch rush—and Mikey’s done a really good job of not getting banned this month! 

So sabotage it is. 

He’s the youngest of five—six, now, with the addition of Junior to their ranks—and when it comes to big, wounded eyes and crocodile tears to shake dad off his trail and throw another sibling under the bus, nobody does it better than him. 

Moving fast, Mikey pitches himself sideways off his seat. The stool clatters over noisily and Leo looks up in time to see Mikey hit the floor. Picture-perfect. 

“Ow!” he cries out, only half-faked. He did kind of land on one of his wrists a little too hard. 

“What the hell,” the yokai says dumbly. 

Leonardo is beside Mikey so fast, Mikey’s not one-hundred percent convinced he didn’t teleport himself there. He crouches, broken knee and all, and says, “Gravity two-hundred and eight, Angie zero.”

“No fair,” Mikey protests, sitting up. “It was two-hundred and two yesterday.” 

“Well, this wipe-out was embarrassing enough it’s worth multiple points.” 

Despite his teasing, Leo is entirely focused as he tests Mikey’s wrist for pain. When that doesn’t cause more than a wince, he pulls at the velcro straps until it’s loose enough to slide off. Mikey patiently endures Doctor Leon’s careful assessment of his arm, and buckles the brace back on when he’s allowed to. 

“What the heck happened?” Leo only asks when Mikey is helping him to his feet. 

“That guy pushed me down,” Mikey said immediately, head lowered enough that he has to look up more than usual to meet Leo’s eyes. 

“What?” the yokai snaps. “I didn’t push you down!”

“Sure, I just decided to fall down for no reason,” Mikey shoots back sarcastically. 

“That’s exactly what you did!” 

Leo glances at Usagi, the only eye-witness. Usagi says, to the cat yokai, “I saw the whole thing, man. You’re really gonna sit there and lie?”

Oh, we’re keeping you, Mikey thinks gleefully, almost forgetting to ham up his hurt expression. 

The cat yokai is definitely pissed off, but Leo stands up tall and steps in front of Mikey, his body language daring the guy to say one unkind word about his little brother. Hueso takes over before anything unfortunate can happen, encouraging the yokai to get his food to go and also to consider never coming back to this establishment since he thinks it’s acceptable behavior to bully a child, et cetera. All in a day’s work. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey sees Usagi sweep the business card off the bar and probably into the trash somewhere behind it. 

They hang out at the bar for the rest of the afternoon. Usagi isn’t on the floor today, restocking and cleaning and running food instead, so he gets away with chatting and sneaking them free cranberries-on-the-rocks up until they leave. Leo finds out about the leftover lasagna situation and convinces the rabbit to come over for dinner, including a calzone for him in their take-home order to sweeten the deal.

“Uh,” Usagi says, “sure. Okay. That’d be—yeah.”

“Nice,” Leo says. He sounds way cooler about it than Mikey knows for a fact that he is on the inside. But that’s Leo to a tee—make it look easy. Don’t let anybody in on the big secret that you struggle, too. You have to unlock like fourteen friendship tiers before you get on the other side of all that. 

They portal most of the way to their favorite manhole back home, walking the final city block for a few extra minutes under the warm red evening sky. 

“So what happened with Puss in Boots back there?” Leo says apropos of nothing, when Mikey’s dramatic rendition of his capture of the Feebas and ultimate one-hundred percent completion of Brilliant Diamond has winded down. 

Mikey looks at him sidelong, but Leo is still looking ahead. He does kind of need to pay attention, the city sidewalks aren’t always clear, but that usually doesn’t stop him from looking at his brothers while they talk, to his brothers’ eternal exasperation. 

“I told you, he pushed me.”

“Uh-huh. And what actually happened?”

Ughhhhhh, Mikey has only fooled Leo like three times in his entire life, why did he automatically assume this would be success story number four? 

“That guy was weird,” Mikey mutters. He watches the ground while they walk, his untied shoelace flapping around with every step. “He knew about your portals and wanted stuff from you. He was super shady, Lee! He was like if Kingpin from the Spider-Man comics and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast had a baby. And were cats.”

Leo snorts, and Mikey jerks around so fast he’s not able to hide his smile in time. 

Aha! Mikey thinks, doing cartwheels in his mind. He laughed, I win!

“I’m not gonna let anybody walk all over you,” Mikey says, clenching one fist in front of him. “I know that you don’t need anybody looking out for you—believe me, I know.” They share a commiserating look, two little brothers against the world. Leo looks distinctly amused, like everything Mikey does is worth watching and bragging about later. “But I just love you so much, Leo. If this was a perfect world, everyone would love you as much as I do. But since that’s impossible, and no one will ever usurp me from my number one spot as your biggest fan, then I’ll settle for everyone at least liking you as much as I do. Which is still a pretty high bar, but it’s doable. If they just put the hours in, if they, you know, worked for it—”

“Oh my god, Miguel, stop,” Leo says, pushing at his shoulder. Mikey sways sideways with the push and comes right back, undeterred. 

“I’m unstoppable!” he hollers, lifting both arms and punching his fists up above his head. 

“Yeah,” Leonardo says, sounding like his old self again—sixteen years old, the whole world in his corner. “You’re the best.”

Mikey thinks he could do anything, he could light up the sky, he could punch a hole in the dimension, he could travel through time—he can definitely protect his brother. He’s the only person in the world who can get away with doing it, after all. That’s a big responsibility. Good thing Mikey is big enough to hold it. 

Daylight is only an afterthought in the sky now, all those rich autumn colors dimming into deep, vivid hues of purple and blue. The tunnel home is just around the corner, and they’ll have to reheat the food when they get there, but they’ll have to reheat Usagi’s anyway. 

When Leo reaches over and strings his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, Mikey adjusts his stride, shuffles his takeout bags to one hand, and puts his arm around Leo right back. 

“Thanks, Mike,” Leo says. “For being on my team. I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Your team is the only place I wanna be,” Mikey announces, when he’s sure his voice won’t wobble and give the wet sheen in his eyes away. “If you ever try to kick me out I will make your life a living hell. It seriously would not be worth it for you. Don’t tell Raph I said hell.”

Leo throws back his head and laughs for real. His crutch skids on a dead leaf and since they’re attached to each other they both stumble wildly and almost drop the calzones and get dirty looks from other Manhattanites. It’s the kind of moment that becomes the kind of memory that settles deep in the core of a person, never to be forgotten. 

And Mikey sees it—spring. The sun is finally coming out. Someday really soon, he thinks, those shadows that cling to Leo will have to find someone else to haunt. 

Until then, he can be sunshine enough for them both. 

[dyns33]

Family protection

I missed Alfie during Flufftober, I'm not going to lie, even if it was fun

Thomas Shelby was preoccupied.

No, if he was honest, Thomas was just as terrified and furious at that moment, hurt inside, ready to devastate everything in his path, like every time he was told that a member of his family had been targeted.

It had perhaps been a mistake on his part to believe that it was not necessary to monitor Y/N after her marriage. Solomons' men took care of that.

So, when John had called him in a panic, saying that there were rumors about the kidnapping, or even the murder of their sister, he had at first remained frozen at his desk.

Since Polly had brought her back, this little girl from another mother, also abandoned by their fucking so called father, he had loved her. Maybe even more than the others.

The child was adorable. Shy at first, then smiling, with a crystal-clear laugh, asking for cuddles from her brothers, playing with dolls with her sister, and always wanting to be with them.

Normally, boys didn't accept the presence of girls. Poor Ada knew something about that. But strangely, with Y/N, it was different. Neither he, nor John, nor Arthur, could refuse her anything.

She came with them in the streets, in the countryside, in the trees. There were some limits of course, but he had shown her how to climb, jump, run. How to defend herself, if one strange day they weren't there.

Thomas confided things to her and her only when they were alone. The times he slept in the fields, she came to join him. That was often what pushed him to come home, because he didn't want her to catch her death. She stayed there, glued to him without saying anything, respecting his silence like no other member of his family, and for that, he ended up talking to her.

It was a false secret, that Y/N was his favorite. A secret that didn't bother anyone, since she was everyone's favorite.

So Thomas Shelby was preoccupied, because it was said that something had happened to his little sister, without anyone being able to clearly say what.

"She was in a bookstore." Arthur mumbled. "She goes there several times a month, to get books and read to the kids. They like it, she has a beautiful voice. After the session, she often has tea upstairs with the old owner. Men came in, beat up the employees and customers, before going upstairs. Then there was a fire. We don't know anything else."

"And Mr. Solomons ?"

"Haven't managed to reach him. His little assistant says he's… busy."

You'd think the same guys had come to Camden Town to destroy the King's Bakery. Because everything was in a pathetic state, and it was the doing of one man, who shouted orders from his office when he wasn't breaking anything that came his way.

If Thomas was preoccupied, Alfie had lost his mind.

During an important meeting with the Irish, he had let Ollie handle the business, and since the men had to be watched, it was a new kid who answered the phone.

He learned only two hours after his return that a woman had called. Not just any woman, his wife. Who was worried, because there were men in front of the bookstore, whom she didn't know.

She was smart, his wife. His tender Y/N, well raised by the Shelbys. Even if she was normally safe, she remained wary, thinking of looking behind or through the window, knowing all of her husband's employees.

The incompetents who followed her that day had been found with their throats slit in an alley.

Even though his patient was at his limit, Thomas let Alfie finish his tantrum, noting that he had left only the phone and the record player intact, which was playing opera to try to calm him down.

Y/N had disappeared for four hours now. He wouldn't calm down.

"They would have called, huh ? To give their fucking instructions. Or maybe they're scared, they know that my men, the most competent this time, and yours, are all over town, and that as soon as we know who did this, they'll be dead. But… If they don't have her… Tommy, if they don't have her, if she's in that still smoking pile of ashes… I'll burn everything."

"Arthur and John are going to find her."

"Yeah, huh ? You can sense it with your gypsy powers ? Your witch aunt read the cards and saw that my Y/N was healthy ?"

"Not now, Alfie."

Solomons growled, turning his office chair in anger and slamming it against the floor until it was all crumbs. It was only because it was his wife's family that he was acceptinf Thomas' presence.

And for his part, even though he wanted to blow his head off for not protecting his sister properly, Tommy sat there smoking his cigarette, remembering how it had felt to hold Grace in his arms.

When the phone rang, he stared at it for a moment, before looking at Alfie, frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. He wondered if he hadn't heard, before realizing that the wandering Jew was afraid to answer.

It might have been the famous ransom demand, which would teach them that a lot of harm had been done to Y/N, and much more would come if they didn't do what the kidnappers wanted.

It might also have been the coroner, who had finished putting names on the bodies following the fire.

Slowly, Thomas put down his cigarette, before answering.

"… Tommy ?"

"… Y/N ?"

"Give me that !" ordered Alfie who immediately came back to life, snatching the phone from him before finding a softer voice. "Treacle ? Love ? Are you okay ? Where are you ?"

It turned out that despite the lack of practice, taking young Y/N into the woods to teach her how to climb, jump, play tightrope walkers and hide, had been a good thing.

Realizing that something was happening and since her husband was not reachable, she had climbed through the upstairs window on the courtyard side, hoisting herself up onto the roof, until she found a secluded spot to climb down.

Then, not knowing who to trust, she had stayed hidden until nightfall, to go to the closest and safest place from her position, which was her sister's house.

"Faster, Ismael !"

Thomas could have muttered that it would be better to get to Ada's alive, but he only clung to the door handle while the driver obeyed Mr. Solomons without worrying about pedestrians or other cars.

It was also useless to stop Alfie from jumping onto the sidewalk, forgetting his cane in the car to go and bang on the door like a madman until someone opened it.

Calm only returned when he laid eyes on Y/N, settled in the living room and already surrounded by all the other Shelbys who had been called after them.

"Treacle. Forgive me." he sobbed as he threw himself at her knees, his arms around her and his head against her stomach. "I was so worried, love, I thought I was going to die."

"Oh, Alfie. I'm sorry, I wanted to call you before but I didn't have access to a phone."

"I'm the worst husband. I didn't protect you. If my men weren't dead, I'd slit their throats myself."

"Let's try to talk about something happier." Thomas coughed as he approached, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder who smiled at him. "Did you hurt yourself jumping off the roof ?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Strange clothes."

"Yes, love. You weren't wearing that this morning."

"Oh, I…" Y/N said, visibly embarrassed. "I may have "borrowed" a disguise. And money. And a car."

"She's our lil sis !" Arthur declared proudly, oblivious to the dark looks from his aunt, sister, brothers, and brother-in-law.

Maybe they had also shown young Y/N how to steal, but only once or twice, for fun, telling her that it was wrong, and that she would never need to do that because they would take care of her.

Alfie mumbled in Hebrew, which made her laugh. Probably insults without malice. He only let go of her to allow the others to kiss her before he took her back to their home, returning worse than a leech at the first opportunity.

When he proposed to add some of his men to Solomons' for her next outings, the king of Candem was at first outraged. He didn't bark only because his wife had already experienced a lot of emotions, but he would not let Thomas humiliate him.

However, in the middle of the night, certainly when Y/N was sleeping, Solomons contacted him.

"How many men, and what price ?"

"I'm the one who feels insulted now, Alfie. She's my sister, that will be the necessary number and for nothing at all."

"Hmm… You know, they all have something to say about you, your siblings. All of them, while you take care of them. I know it, I see it, but they are never happy. But not Y/N. No, my treacle has nothing but compliments for her big brothers, and you the first. Tommy this, Tommy that. She adores you."

"I adore her too."

"Hmm. Not as much as me, and so there will be fewer men than mine, but… I accept the offer."

"Glad we almost agree on something, Mr. Solomons."

He did not sleep that night, because Thomas Shelby was a preoccupied man by nature. By business, by his family, by the future and the past.

But as for his favorite little sister, he could have slept peacefully, knowing that her husband was there to ensure her happiness and protection as he had sworn during their marriage.

And if something were to happen, they would join forces, then Thomas would probably kill Alfie to punish him, if the madman didn't kill himself first to join Y/N whom he loved at least as much as her brother loved her.

[aerospectrum]

“Angel cakes, really?” Gabriel taunted her, furthering the tease by yanking Cas around forwards and then backwards a few times by his shirt like he was a puppet. Madison seemed keen on belligerently chastising him. As if he cared. “Why don’t you ask him all this instead of bitching and moaning at me, sugar. He's the one who prayed to me; I'm just doin' my older brother duties.” Gabe let go of Cas’ shirt and roughly shoved him into her.

The collision wasn’t graceful and it didn’t help that he wasn’t much bigger than Madison at that point, drowning in Dean’s borrowed clothes and guilt. Dean grabbed him and pulled him over to “his side” of the room. “Cas…” he hissed through clenched teeth. “The hell did you do man?” He looked the guy— the kid over and pinched the bridge of his nose hard to try and stave off the anger he felt. “Tell me you didn’t do this, buddy…” Cas clammed up the second he heard his own voice and saw the way Dean’s brows raised and his lips clamp together tightly like he was painfully holding back laughter at how Cas suddenly sounded.

“Madison this is Gabriel..” Sam finally interjected on behalf of everyone in the room. “He’s an archangel. They call him the trickster—.”

“The Messenger of God, actually.” Gabe swirled the sucker around his mouth. “Castiel asked me for help, said you bozo’s had yourself an angel problem and he lost his grace. By the looks of it… your little rag tag bunch could stand to use my help. I would’ve come while you were at the park but I’m more into the unexpected and grand entrance type of thing.” He looked Madison up and down once then smirked to himself like he knew something she didn’t. “So… you’re this big scary lady Cas told me about, huh? You don’t look so bad to me.” Golden eyes stared her down for another moment, his smirk both threatening and relaxed at the same time.

“Candy?” He offered a sucker to her for the hell of it. “Y’know it’s a good thing he called me..” Gabe looked over Madison to Dean who was still eyeing Cas half like he wanted to laugh and half like he wanted to shove him in a corner and force him to think about his actions. “Naomi and Hester would’ve torn this place apart and slaughtered you all, starting with you, princess.” Gabriel said directly to Madison. “Wonder who you pissed off upstairs to begin with… you got family serving time in heavens big house or somethin, lady?”

“I don’t mind sitting.” She insisted w/ a smile. Her hand reached out to card through his hair. “I’m really glad to see you have something. Is it good? Do you like it? Can I make you any thing else?” When cas sat & kept insisting she go to the living room, she eventually gave in. “Okay angel cakes…. I’ll be over here if you need me.” Slowly she backed out of the kitchen.

“For you.” She replied & offered the glass to Dean. “Sam, there’s some in the kitchen for you too.” She took her seat beside Dean kicking her feet up on his lap so she could relax. “It was nice… cas is sweet. He’s curious. I’m curious too, I like him.” She signed comfortably. There was more she wanted to say, but didn’t. Not when cas was in ear range.

Madison was confused. Kinda. Cas’ vomit was a good thing. Even though it stained her rug & was gooey. She was nodding following along w/ Sam, & when Dean kept interrupting she smacked his hand. “Shush.”

The word vessel stuck out to her. She was curious. What did that mean?

Before she could as a loud crash echoed & she screamed.

Suddenly there was a man in her house. A short man. But clearly very powerful. He was holding onto cas & Madison gasped.

Two things were upsetting her. “LET GO OF MY ANGEL CAKES.” She said boldly, “DID YOU BLOW A HOLE THROUGH MY GOD DAMN HOUSE???!! HOW THE FUCK DID YOI GET IN HERE!?” She huffed trying to peak around him.

“I DONT MIND HOUSING YOU GUYS BUT STOP FUCKING UP MY SHIT!” She shouted & turned to the new man. “AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU??!”

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

fluffy kid!stancest first kiss on glass shard beach would be so cute maybe by the swings or when they first find what would become the stan o war

combining these two together, but 2nd anon PLEASE know your ask got me writing old stancest at first that immediately turned hurt and comfort, so i'll be posting that when i actually finish it udndhdhdu this one is a bit of a rush job, BUT i hope you guys like it! this is my first time writing kid stancest, trying to run my head over how boys just banter and this is the best i could relay lmao. also if ford's internal dialogue isnt as flowery as it ought to be, it's mostly because i do still want it to sound like it's coming from a child, and i imagine Ford's internal dialogue wasn't fully realized until he's at least a littls older, you know?

anyway enough stalling: please enjoy!

~~~

Ford thinks he could stay like this forever.

Sitting on a crate, Stanford watches Stanley draw on the sand with the end of a big stick, planning all their great adventures when they finally get out of this place, the promise of their Big Day of Adventure made them giddy all day, bouncing on the heels of their feet all over the beach until the deck guys they "borrowed" a can of paint from earlier found them, chasing them off and forcing the two of them to take cover. They did, only belatedly realizing they had to come back for their ship since their dream did rely on them fixing up the boat to be in top condition for it to sail. Luckily they didn't take their ship, so the two of them were able to push it back into the alcove they found it, keeping it their own little secret.

Ford looks at it in awe again. In bold letters, "The Stan O' War" stares back at him. Their promise of the future. A future with his brother, forever

"And then— Poindexter are ya listening?!" Stan asks, tapping the stick lightly on Ford's head who swats it away with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah! I am, I am!"

"Good, cuz you better hear this!" Stan resumes drawing on the sand. Ford looks down, tilting his head quizically.

"Why are we standing on top of the sun?"

"That's an octopus!" Stan points to the pile of squigly lines Ford thought had been the ocean. "See?"

"That's still kinda impossible."

"Aw, shuddap!" Stan scoffs playfully, then proceeds to draw fish tails with long noses and circle ends.  "Of course its possible! This is after I killed it, and we're doin' a victory cheer on top of it!" Stan pumps his fist in the air, and begins chanting, echoing loud across the alcove: "PINES! PINES! PINES! And after—"

"Wait, how did we kill it?"

"I beat it up, duh!"

"What did I do?"

Stan huffs. "You math, science and bored it to death, you big nerd," he says with an annoyed expression, which quickly gives away to snickers as he dodges the fistful of sand Ford throws in his direction, leaving a grainy cloud in its wake. Stan points back at his drawing, at the long nosed fish with lines protruding off the top. Until Ford blinks, and tilts his head again, realizing that the messy scribbles are probably meant to be... "Anyway, after we totally beat this giant octopus monster, all the mermaid babes will be all over us! They'd give us kisses, and hugs, and and–"

Covering his mouth with his hand, Ford snorts loudly. "Stanley... you want to kiss fish ladies?"

An offended look crosses Stan's face, and if it wasn't for the sunburn already staining his and Ford's skin an angry, blistering red, Ford could swear Stan was blushing, his cheeks puffing, brown eyes wide and fists clenching. Cute, Ford thinks, so quickly, he almost doesn't catch it.

But he does.

Just like how his shoulder catches Stan's fists, sending him to more fits of giggling as he goes down.

"Shaddup, shaddup, shut uuuuuuuup," Stan continues his playful assault, clearly trying to not to smile, but Ford's laughter catches him like the infectious bug that went around school three months ago, and his grin stretches wild as he pushes Ford to the ground, and planting himself on Ford's short legs. Ford's hand land on his shoulders, trying and obviously failing at pushing off his stronger brother with all his twelve fingered might, but maybe it's because Ford is laughing too much he's out of breath, chest shaking while he heaves his giggles. Maybe it's the weird but nice heaviness Stan is forcing on him, and Ford counts that as the fifth time this day Stan made him feel that: 'weird but nice.'

Yesterday was seven whole times.

"Get off me, jerk!"

"You're the jerk," Stan argues, catching Ford's hands and pinning them down to the sand, grinning at Ford who's completely caught under him. "You've been making fun of me the whole time!"

"No I wasn't! I think it's cool you wanna kiss fish ladies!"

"They're not fish ladies, Sixer! They're mermaids!" Stan argues, looking a lot like Ford when he exasperatedly explains that solving the daily crossword on the newspaper is not lame, just with the additional large gap between his teeth, bandage on his face, cute puffy cheeks, which almost sends Ford to another laughing fit. "Mermaids are cool! No, they're hot!"

"If you say so," Ford shrugs, feeling the soft grains of sand move against his back. "They'd smell like fish though, but I think you would like that."

"Pfff," Stan lets go and straightens up to blow a raspberry, tilting himself to flop onto the sand next to Ford, moving so his fingers brushed Ford's when at their hips. Sixth. "Like you're any different. I bet you have a lot of weird stuff you wanna kiss too. You're obsessed with your ano– anama—"

"Anamolies."

"Aliens. I bet you wanna kiss aliens."

"No I don't!"

"Yeah, you do!"

"I don't," Ford insists, but he's definitely thought about it. Not in a weird way, of course. He wonders about kissing a lot of things, like growing boys do, like the health developmental sections of science books say so! Girls. Boys sometimes.

Boys most of the time.

A boy, most of the time.

"If you say so," Stan repeats dismissively, stretching his arms over his head while Ford watches behind his glasses. Feeling the sand starting to get to that 'pointy, sticky and annoying' state when someone lays on it, he sits up, eyes landing on the Stan O' War again. Stan follows, quickly sitting up.

"What'cha thinking of?"

"Just wondering the capability of weight distribution on the boat."

"Uh...."

"I wonder if it's actually strong enough to hold us up to sail. We're gonna have to fix that up before we take it to the water, remember? Maybe it's not even built for two people."

The last part came out of his mouth without thinking, and Ford is alarmed with the quick moment of doubt. For a second, their dream seemed a little impossible.

Stan pushes himself up, and runs to the stationed boat.

"Stan? What are you—"

"Keep up, Sixer!" Stan exclaims, grabbing onto the ledge of the boat, and suddenly Ford is running after his brother. All caution thrown out of his system when Stan lifts himself over the edge and on top of the boat's deck effortlessly.

"Stan!"

"Look, Ford, it's fine!" Stan exclaims, arms spread wide and standing victoriously. Ford grabs hold of the ledge, and tries to lift his legs over, only to almost fall off with a "Whoa!"— until Stan's hand latches onto his.

"Hold on," Stan tugs until Ford's body lifts high enough for him to wrap his arms around Ford's shoulders. He grunts, pulling the rest of his twin's body with all his strength before falling onto the deck, Ford landing on top of his legs.

Somehow, they find themselves almost exactly as before, just in reverse, skin still grainy and sticky and hot-red, Ford's chest shaking again but this time it's from panting in the short burst of physical activity. His face close to Stan's, Ford feels a bubbling in his chest, a little tingle all over his skin. One he wants to blame on the summer heat still simmering outside the cave or maybe the sunburn all over his back and torso, but it's not that.

Seventh.

"You're kinda heavy for a stick, Sixer."

Ford punches his shoulder this time, smirking. "Shut up, jerk."

"Now you hate it," Stan comes back smugly, then glances down at the deck. "Hey, look! It can hold the both of us after all!"

Remembering his previous concerns, he looks down on the boat, then raps his knuckles onto the floorboards. It's actually pretty sturdy for how old Ford theorized it to be. That's pretty cool.

"Guess we can cross that out of the stuff we have to fix up," Ford concludes. He pushes his glasses over his nose, thinking deeply again. "Still have a lot of stuff to consider though. Plus, who knows how much bigger we'll get too..." He muses, mostly to himself.

So many to consider... Ford doesn't think even his freakish hands could count all the ways it could go right, or wrong, if it goes anywhere at all... it's kind of big, and open, and Ford thinks it's almost like the ocean itself.

"Eh, don't worry about that stuff so much, Sixer," Stan shrugs, his voice breakjng through Ford's train of thought. Ford realizes he's still very much on Stanley's legs, and maybe it's because all the running, pushing, wrestling they've done all day that completely wrung him out, or maybe it's because the warm bubbling in his chest that overflows and keeps his own legs stuck like sap, but unlike Stan, Ford can't bring himself to move off, move away from Stan. His brown eyes wide, grin with a goofy gap in the teeth and cheeks puffing, Stan looks ready to sail off right then and there.

"As long as you've got me, we can do everything. We're getting out of this place no matter what."

Ford smiles warmly. Somehow he could never get tired doing that around his brother and that's weird. It's nice. His hands find Stan's shoulders, and without thinking, he blurts out:

"Stanley... It wasn't aliens."

"Wait, wha—"

And Ford presses his lips to Stan's. He doesn't really know how to do this. It's kinda gross, with Stan tasting like sand and sweat from rolling around it all day, but so did Ford and getting past that, it just feels good. Almost on instinct, he pulls away panic rising at throat, because Oh no, Stan will think I'm a freak too.

But Stan leans forward too, almost knocking Ford's glasses away and also not knowing what he's doing, but it feels nice. Really, really nice.

Eighth.

Ford thinks he could stay counting those forever.

~~

If you like this send another prompt or a prompt of your own! Hope you liked this anons, be it sufficiently fluffy enough lmao

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 5: Friends to Lovers

Previous Chapter: Reader Suggestions

Summary: A bit of chaotic Deja Vu ensues as the Writer finally gets a handle on this story.

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Chaos, Smut, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Various References to Movies and Television, Lore, Criticism of Fanfiction, Analysis of Fanfiction/Fandom, Meta Fiction, Self-Aware Fic

Note: I KNOW THIS IS REALLY LATE (the dedication post not the chapter, I write on my own time and I'm not gonna apologize for that) so please consider this a chapter dedicated to @undead-supernova for her birthday. Love you August. Thanks for being a little gremlin with me sometimes. Hope you enjoy it.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

You really didn't know how you fit into this story.

You were utterly and sincerely baffled.

But you could say that about a lot of the stories you found yourself in; this one felt like it was just to make you suffer, more than anything else.

"What's on your mind Wanderlust?" Sawyer groaned as he collapsed beside you on the sand. He held out a water bottle--still a bit cold, meaning he'd just come back from refilling them at the caves--which you took with a grateful nod. "You're staring into that fire as if it's about to tell you the meaning of life."

"I think that's exactly what I'm hoping it does," you told him honestly before taking a swig.

"Well if you find out," he laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "Be sure to share with the class."

You rolled your eyes at him and then kept up with your pity party.

To add to the list of things you didn't know: Sawyer was also one of them.

He was a shithead of the first degree, dangerous, shifty, rude, selfish, suspicious...and somehow the only person you consistently talked to here on the island.

You'd actually been sitting next to him on Flight 815; he'd been a little salty but nice enough to let you have the arm rests, even asked if you were alright when the turbulence began and you began panicking.

For all the years that you'd been driving around the states, you'd never been on a plane before; you thought it was karma that some Writer would not only put you on the longest flight in existence for your first go, and then a plane crash for your second.

But you appreciated Sawyer's compassion, and the subsequent companionship that he shared with you. The care. The protection. The no-strings-attached, no-questions-asked nature of your relationship.

"You have a boyfriend back home kid?" he asked abruptly.

Spoke too soon.

"Loaded question," you snorted, thinking back to the many loves you'd had throughout this strange life you lived.

"Always the bridesmaid?"

"Something like that." You kicked his leg. "What about you?"

"Married to my work, sweet pea," he grinned, eyes still closed. He must've heard you roll your eyes at him. "I'm sure you're curious about why I'm asking."

"The question crossed my mind, if you'd like to share with the class," you parroted his words.

"Might've heard through the grapevine that someone has a little crush on you."

"Hmmm." You hoped the judgment and distaste was clear.

"Figure it was my duty as your unofficial big brother to scare them away before they started sniffing too close. 'specially if you had someone back home waiting for you."

"Well, no one's waiting," you huffed a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in a weird beach hookup either."

"I figured. I'll tell 'em to scram."

"Please don't be rude about it."

His eyes popped open and he pressed a hand to his chest.

"Now when have I ever been rude?" You kicked him again. "Alright, I'll be nice."

"Thank you."

There were a few beats of silence, filled with the crackle of the fire and the roar of waves just a few yards away.

"What are you looking for then?" Sawyer's voice broke through. "If it's not sex or love or whatever. What's got you looking so deep into that fire for?"

"I think..." You took a second, because all of those things were nice. But what did you want? What did you really want?

You inhaled deeply and then turned your gaze back to him with the hint of a smile.

"I think I just need a friend."

October 1985

You know what really sucked for Eddie about this whole fanfiction predicament?

The absolute unpredictability of it.

Just as you'd explained to him, he actually felt like he was playing a constant game of DnD. The only problem--well, one of many problems, actually--was that the Dungeon Master had no plans, didn't know what they were doing, and was making it all up as they went.

Which is why he suddenly found himself back in time once again, practically at the beginning of the school year, after a shitty, hot October day where everything that could've gone wrong did.

"It's almost like this Writer hates my guts or something," he grumbled as he sifted through the disarray in his locker. "Making me repeat my repeat-repeat-senior year over and over again."

He let the irritation fester within him all day until the end of the day so he could complain to you--and you'd hopefully agree to some under-the-shirt-over-the-bra action on his couch as consolation--only to find your trailer dark and your car missing by the time he got home.

"Great, just great," he grumbled and trudged inside.

For the rest of the night, he did what he always did when he was looking for comfort.

Pizza, Television, Recorded Reruns of Port Geneva.

He sat on the floor, worked on his homework, and munched on his large extra-pepperoni for hours, as you and Sam and Bonnie had your misadventures. A little voice in the back of his head urged him to just get up and try calling you whenever he hit the pause button to complain, but he ignored it and instead kept on complaining.

About school, about life, about himself. About never amounting to anything. It was very reminiscent of all the other "talks" he had with you...both the you on the screen and eventually the you in real life.

What he wouldn't give to just have you here right now to talk to, instead of this old habit that he thought he'd outgrown upon your appearance in Hawkins and the beginning of this unending hellscape.

He looked down at himself, at the homework and the pizza, and stopped to ask, "what the fuck am I doing?"

Was he really so pathetic that he couldn't control himself until you could be there? Or Wayne? Or any of his other friends? Had the turning back of the calendar just regressed him into the pathetic person he was before all of this started? Before you set foot into Hawkins?

Eddie got to his feet and hit the eject button on the VCR, fully intending to call it a night, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd just gotten used to.

This crash, however, started a ruckus. Again.

"Weird," he scoffed at the yelling and the dog across the way barking.

But who was he to pass up some good old Midwestern entertainment? Especially after the most lackluster night?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl of junk on the coffee table, slid the box of leftover pizza into the fridge, and stepped outside to get a prime spot on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

He'd just gotten that first drag of his cigarette and really took in the sights when it all made sense.

Or rather, it actually didn't make any sense.

Because he remembered the Mayfields on their porch yelling at the driver and Mrs. Mayfield threatening to call the police. He recognized that powder blue Volkswagen Beetle and the accompanying license plate. He knew, on instinct, exactly when the driver's door opened and the sneakered foot stepped out.

And then there you were. Looking around and begging the Mayfields not to call the cops, making a deal to pay for the damages.

The weirdest thing was that, even though his mind raced to put the pieces together, his heart ached with all of the emotions that he'd been through the first time he'd lived this night when you'd crashed into Hawkins from your adventures across the fictional universe.

But instead of muttering that it was all a dream like he remembered himself saying, he repeated "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck" over again until you glanced over at him with an apologetic gaze that he recognized even from that distance.

All at once, he felt the calm wash over him. That's all he needed from you, one look, and everything began to feel worlds better.

"Jesus H. Christ," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair in relief.

Eddie watched for a few moments longer as you wrapped up your conversation with the Mayfields, and he would've made the attempt to approach you once you wandered back to your car, if he didn't feel the puppet strings of the Writer and their words rest on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to speak them.

So he played the part, as he had gotten used to doing, and jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Seriously? Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. The Writer didn't need to make him do that; even after a few months, he was still pathetic for you. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could muster, and then went back inside as your car trudged across the trailer park.

Your door was unlocked when he ventured to your place in the middle of the night.

The Writer, unfortunately--or maybe thankfully--still gave him as many nerves and as much restlessness as he had the first night you were in Hawkins. Or maybe he was just nervous and restless wondering just what new hell there was in store for the two of you? Still he couldn't sleep, so instead of wait for the morning, he just made his way over to discuss it with you now.

He found you sitting atop your bedroll on the blue plaid sofa in your living room.

"Hey Cigarette Porch guy," you greeted him tiredly, reciting the words you originally greeted him with.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father," he didn't hesitate to recall, the moment the two of you officially met fondly etched into his memory forever. "You can just call me Eddie."

You share a smile and then pat the spot beside you on the couch.

"I'd offer you a drink, but uh...seems like I'm starting over again," you sighed. "Unless I can interest you in some good old Indiana tap water."

He shook his head, then closed the distance and dropped beside you.

"So what are we in for this time?" he asked. "I thought I was just in for another shitty day."

"Well," you paused and held your breath, then you grabbed his hand and squeezed. "I woke up in a motel room I didn't recognize and then felt the urge to get in my car and just drive. I felt...excited to go to a new place; I think I even said it out loud. 'I'm so excited.' But inside I was worried that I'd moved onto another world and left you behind."

It was like a pit opened in his stomach; he'd considered it before, your eventual departure. He'd come to believe that you would move onto your next life after some event--a death, a breakup, maybe some happily ever after after 50 years together, if he was lucky. But to lose you without any kind of warning?

"Shit," he pulled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. For your comfort and his own. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"It's ok," came the weak chuckle as you leaned into his embrace and nuzzled your nose into his t-shirt. "It's ok, we're just...starting over. The Writer is starting the story over; starting over is good sometimes. Maybe they figured out what they were going to do with us, instead of just play with us like little dolls in a dollhouse."

"Well, I'm an expert in starting over so..." he cracked a joke. "I was just thinking that earlier today, actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, if it's October again, it means I'm doing senior year for the...what is it...third-and-a-half time?"

You snorted and weakly slapped a hand to his chest, "well how dare they make you experience that fresh hell one more time."

"I guess if we're starting over, that means you can help me figure out how to pass my Civics quiz again," he recalled your first date. Study date.

You shot out of his embrace and grabbed his face in your hands, smushing his cheeks as you grinned, the somber tone in the living room finally dissipating.

"But that's the best part of rewrites," you explained. "You get to live all the best memories with people over again."

You told him about rewrites that you'd been through; stories that generally didn't change and some that changed drastically. He liked hearing the fondness of your voice when you talked about getting to meet so-and-so for the first time again, holding someone's hand, first dates.

"First kisses?" he asked through his still-smooshed lips.

"That's one of the best parts of rewrites," you winked and pecked a kiss against his mouth. Then again and again, until the two of you were smooching all over each other comically like Gomez and Morticia, giggling all the while.

And when it was time to say goodbye, both of you ready to say "hello" for the second first time.

"Hey," you greeted, somewhat out of breath when Eddie opened the door. It was a familiar sight: backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of sodas dangling from your fingers, looking as gorgeous as you always did or at least he thought so. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

He still felt the strong sense of triumph from knowing what your favorites were, even though the nerves of being around you for the first time had dissipated.

There was another kind of excitement now as you bit your lip and winked at him stealthily and made your way inside to get settled in the living room. Of course you knew he knew that pepperoni was your favorite. What the Writer didn't know was that pepperoni wasn't your only favorite, and they didn't know that he'd gotten half-pep, half-mushroom to surprise you.

How would they? He hadn't felt them as he'd called Pizzeria Uno, just those lurking strings leading him to the door once the pizza arrived.

The past few days had gone like this, where the Writer would control some aspect of your lives, and the two of you would test what the boundaries of this fanfiction were. It was a trick of yours, to feel some semblance of control in an uncontrollable situation, especially as things became out of character or too drawn out.

When the Writer seemed to be writing too much exposition about one thing or another, the two of you sat frozen in time. No talking, no movement as the world around you seemed to shift and morph at the will of your would-be-deity.

You'd silently challenged him to a staring contest over breakfast at Benny's as a water stain in the corner of the ceiling got bigger and dingier and became more of an eyesore.

Had Eddie really never noticed it or was the Writer just obsessed with it?

It was happening right now as his attention was drawn to the enticing softness of the sweater you had on...each piece of yarn knitted and woven together with such care, his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out and...

"So..." you cleared your throat. "Homework?"

"Yeah," he agreed, shaking himself out of his story-induced stupor. "Lemme put those pops in the fridge so they get cold first. Dr. Pep--Mr. Pibb?" He scoffed at the unexpected label, a laugh dead in his throat.

"Wh...do you...I thought you liked Dr. Pepper," he questioned.

"Why would you think that?"

"Be...because you got Dr. Pepper at Benny's!"

"If I don't have a choice, yeah Dr. Pepper is fine. But Mr. Pibb is my favorite," you laughed and shook your head in amused disbelief. "There's nothing like a slice of pepperoni and an ice cold Mr. Pibb."

Eddie was sure that there were no strings pulling him this way or that, and based on your body language, it didn't seem like the Writer was doing anything to you either. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to come up with any little tidbit that could prove some outside interference.

But then he realized...had The Writer noticed something about you that he hadn't?

Had he, Eddie Munson, number one fan of Port Geneva's--and you--not noticed that your favorite soda was Mr. Pibb?

Then a thought that didn’t really seem to be his echoed in his head.

What if he actually didn’t know anything about you?

No.

That was impossible.

He refused to believe it. It had to be the Writer who was manipulating things. Right?

He looked at the Mr. Pibb for a moment, then back up at you.

"So, uh," he hesitantly backed out of the living room to head to the kitchen. "Anything else shocking and unbelievable that I need to know about you? If we're gonna be neighbors...or friends...or whatever."

"Or whatever," you giggled, scrunching your nose, then pulled his notebook off the coffee table to distract yourself as you continued nervously. "Uh, ok let's see...I don't think there's anything too shocking and unbelievable that I hadn't told you at breakfast the other day. I'm from Port Geneva, I've been driving around for a while, I like to draw."

You flipped through a few pages in his notebook and then paused and pointed to the doodles in the margins of the page.

"And by the looks of this, so do you," you grinned. "These are cool."

"Cool?" he scoffed. "That...I was supposed to take notes for class and I ended up doodling for Hellfire Club the whole time. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff. You're not interested in any of that. Besides, we're supposed to be talking about you."

"Actually," you looked at him expectantly, "we're supposed to talk about your history quiz. But while we're on the topic of me, and history, and these nerd things in your notebook, I guess one shocking and unbelievable thing about me is that I'm actually a nerd too. I happen to like Tolkien."

It was his turn to shoot you a mocking "oh yeah?"

You rolled your eyes at him and then put his notebook down on the table, then held out your hand as though you desired a handshake. As soon as his palm touched yours, you introduced yourself.

"I actually like Tolkien. My mom got me a copy of the Silmarillion for my sixteenth birthday and if I could go anywhere in any universe, I'd like to see Middle Earth from the tippy top of Erebor. And I used to say that I'd settle for the grand canyon, but I've already been there. So I will accept nothing less than Erebor itself. Now you."

You continued to shake his hand as he spoke.

"I'm Eddie Munson. The first time I read the Hobbit, my dad had dropped me off at the library and someone had misplaced it in the Kids section. And I've tried to get my band to play a rendition of Misty Mountains before, but we can't agree on whether or not there should be a harp in it. If we could even find a harp in Indiana like Thorin's."

There was a sparkle in your eye as you began to say "actually I have a funny story about Thorin and his harp," when you froze.

Eddie watched you and got increasingly worried as you fought some kind of internal battle just behind your eyes. He could see the little changes in your expression, from joyful to nervous to angry, and he reached out to rest his hand on yours and let you know that he was right there.

That it would be alright.

"Why don't," you finally spat out forcefully, slightly out of breath, "why don't we try this? We study a little bit at a time, and as we go, we share a new fact about each other? That way by the end of the night, you'll be ready for the quiz, and we'll be good...friends?"

There was something biting about the word friends, almost like you didn't want to say it.

Honestly, it stung him a little to hear it.

Friends.

Weren't you two supposed to fall in love? Hadn't that been what this fanfiction was in the first place? That this Writer shipped you two together? And shit, even though he knew that he could kiss you once the Writer relinquished control, he was kind of looking forward to having this first date all over again, just like you'd discussed.

But now everything was turning out differently.

Not bad, just different.

It was your turn to turn your hand in his and squeeze, then you asked "how does that sound Eddie? Friends?"

His eyes darted between yours, and he felt the pressure build, the pressure to agree and say yes, as thoughts that the Writer put into his head flew through him at light speed.

"Yeah," he finally spoke. "Friends sounds good."

And friends it was...until it wasn't anymore.

You and Eddie seemed to do all of the things that you did before. Study sessions and Saturdays spent together watching movies and putzing around town until it was time for you to go to work.

Only instead of holding hands and smooching and all of the things that really punctuated the romance in a relationship...there were just awkward, forlorn glances and tingles along your skin when your fingers happened to touch.

God damn, he hadn't had this kind of crush since he was in middle school. The last serious crush he had besides that...was on you.

And it was weird to physically feel all of the effects of a crush on you, thanks to the Writer, while mentally being frustrated knowing that dates and kisses and everything were just around the corner. If only the two of you would be allowed to get over that hurdle.

"It's called a slow burn," you laughed one night when he complained to you on the phone, away from the watchful eye of the Writer. You seemed to be taking the glass-half-full approach, where Eddie just missed you so goddamn much. "And I guess the Writer is really letting us simmer."

"I'm gonna melt if they don't let us be together soon." Eddie complained, semi-seriously, basking in your laughter. "Call me Eddie Mun-stew."

"They've got us in a crock pot," you entertained his joke.

"8 chapters on low," he grinned. "Like Uncle Wayne's famous chili. I just want to kiss you, is that such a crime?"

"Apparently it is."

"What if I've forgotten how to kiss?"

"I sincerely doubt that you have. I'm more worried that the Writer will make it a bad first kiss."

"Like if we bonk heads and I break your nose or something?"

"Oh god, let's not give them any ideas," you groaned. "Look, whenever they decide it'll happen, it will. And it's gonna be great."

"Maybe they won't let me make you think I'm a virgin this time."

"You have to admit, that was hilarious."

"It was not!"

Your only response, which caused him to hang up on you, was to cackle loudly into the receiver.

But the Writer must've sensed the antsy energy between the two of you because it happened.

A first kiss. A second first kiss.

You were actually at the movies this time, instead of on Eddie's couch.

The Writer had given Eddie an incredibly long sequence where he and his pals from Hellfire practiced all of the moves he could have finally made on you now to let you know he might be interested.

First, there was the raising of the armrest between the two of you--exaggeratedly performed by Jeff, who played Eddie, and Eddie, who played you.

Next, there was the meeting of the fingers in the popcorn bucket. Gareth was able to do an uncanny impression of Eddie's "don't take all the milk duds" and the awkward laugh he made as the blush dusted his cheeks.

Then there was the old yawn and stretch, which wasn't awkward at all to have Dave do to him.

"Have you ever done this to someone before?" Eddie snarked, as Dave practically squeezed him against his side. It had been more of a grab than a casual drape of his arm around Eddie's back.

Needless to say, his own execution of the move was a lot smoother.

"And then you just kiss her," his friends said in tandem.

"Gee thanks," Eddie scoffed at them, "I know how to kiss a girl, you shitheads."

Except when it came down to it, he was nervous. Hadn't you told him that the best part of rewrites was having those firsts again? What if it was terrible? What if he actually did break your nose?

"Eddie, are you shaking?" you leaned away from him and looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Shit, had he been shaking?

"This movie is just," he cleared his throat and glanced up at the screen; thank god he chose something spooky for Halloween. "Really scary."

"Oh...kay," you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but sat back in your seat.

Then you leaned into him a little more.

And glanced up at him from beneath your lashes.

And he couldn't help but lean a little closer, and duck his head, until his breath was fanning against your cheeks.

Until you inched closer and closer.

And your lips brushed.

Damn, this Writer must've been a hopeless romantic because the kiss was everything they said a first kiss should be. Sunshine and rainbows and birds singing and rockets red glare fireworks at the soft press of your lips on his.

It was here that Eddie realized how much he'd missed kissing you, like...really missed kissing you. You'd taken the task of this rewrite a little too seriously, worried that in some way it might inspire the Writer...or possibly even mess with their inspiration.

The two of you were here now, though, and finally all of that waiting had paid off.

So of course you took advantage of it.

Actually, you were a little more eager than Eddie even was, because your hands were on him immediately. One hand found his waist and the other on his jaw, thumb softly caressing his stubbly skin as your lips pressed together. He liked the firmness of your lips, he liked the way you'd waited for him to make the move before taking what you both eagerly wanted.

Writer be damned.

Eddie pulled you closer, using the arm hooked around your shoulders as leverage, and then tried to use the other hand to hike one of your legs over his--you couldn't be close enough--but the damned popcorn bucket got in the way.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at the obstacle, basking in the little whine you made at the loss of contact.

In fact, you both looked down at the popcorn, and then at the screen, then at each other.

And you both must've decided that "fuck it" was the correct response, because soon the popcorn bucket was on the floor and you were giggling into each other's mouths as you melded back into one writing mass of limbs and kisses and caresses.

It was a joy to be reunited like this; there were some moments that Eddie was eager to move his hand this way or that way, but he felt the strings of the Writer pull him some other way. His own signature moves foregone in favor of something that they thought would be better. Fingers inched under clothing and into hair, lips chased down the column of a neck, and a leg was hitched over a hip until you were practically grinding on each other for all the world to see.

Suddenly a light was shined on you and you both froze, then jumped apart in shock. Your shoulders heaved and you turned towards the source of the light.

"Hey!" An usher shouted from the end of the row, getting the attention of the whole theater as they turned in their seats to stare at the two of you with your kiss-bruised lips and disheveled clothes. "Knock it off."

"Sorry," you apologized in tandem and shrunk back into your seats.

In fact, the usher waited until the armrest was securely back in place between the two of you before he left.

Once he was gone, though, you snickered and slyly lifted the armrest so you could cuddle back together.

"It's good to be back," Eddie whispered and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"Ok," you took a breath in and stared at the bed. "So...how do we start?"

Eddie looked at you incredulously and then scoffed.

"You're asking me?" He chuckled and ran a hand into his hair.

"Yeah, I'm asking you," you nodded sincerely and then you gestured up towards the ceiling. "Because clearly they don't know."

You'd been making out on the couch when you'd both decided to take it to the bedroom. But when you got there, things seemed to fizzle out, and now you were just waiting for the Writer's next move.

Actually, the two of you had been waiting for that to happen for a little while. Not that either of you could complain. All of the little scenes that had been written developed your relationship into something worth a story being told about it--dates and cuddling and kissing.

Better than some of the bullshit that the Writer had previously pulled. No bouts of interference or jealousy from Steve Harrington or Chrissy Cunningham. It seemed like a normal relationship, and everything the two of you wanted.

There was still the underlying disbelief and mystery that surrounded you, Eddie's favorite character from Port Geneva, actually being in Hawkins, but in reality the two of you knew that whatever the Writer had planned would truly be a drop in the water when it came to what was actually happening to you.

You'd take this love story while you could get it.

However, the one hurdle that you couldn't seem to get over...was sex.

Well, the two of you could certainly get over it.

It was the Writer that couldn't.

And the cockblocking was getting old.

Making out on the couch, Wayne walked in unexpectedly and ruined the mood. Someone knocked on the back of the van when the two of you were getting hot and heavy parked up at the quarry.

Shit, even phone sex was ruined.

The Writer seemed to be attuned to the two of you now and anytime there was any hint of an arousal to be had, they would be there to effectively crush it.

"Maybe they're just a bad writer?" Eddie shouted upwards, throwing two middle fingers into the air, as though The Writer would know.

"Alright, let's not get too heated," you chuckled and grabbed his arms to pull them back down. "It's probably not as easy as we think it is."

"The dick goes in," Eddie pouted. You stared at him with some sense of disbelief. He was quick to recover it with "and other things happen. I know how to warm a girl up. They should just let us get to it, then it would be easy to put it on paper."

There was a spark of inspiration in your eye at that.

"Alright then, Mister know-it-all," you challenged him, "maybe we should put that logic to the test."

"W-what do you mean?" he questioned. "How?"

"Well, what would you do? How would we start?" you asked in return. "Actually...you admitted to writing a few little stories; have you ever written a sex scene about me?"

Eddie felt the heat build up in his cheeks and you grinned wickedly.

"Oh my god, you have."

"Shut up, ok?" He inhaled deeply, held, and then exhaled his response. "Ok yes but it was once and can you blame me?"

You cackled and did a little shimmy.

"You're smart and funny and gorgeous and I'm in love with you," he explained and then caught himself in shock. "Er, I mean, I..."

He fumbled over his words but your gaze got soft, and you leaned in to press your mouth to his.

It was all the reassurance he needed.

Then he got lost in you. Your lips, your taste, the feel of your hands on him, the feel of you beneath his hands. It was a sensory overload but it was a welcome one. To be surrounded by all of you? He couldn't have written it as well as it was to simply experience it.

That's how he felt about everything he'd experienced with you so far, though. Why should this be any different?

You tugged on his clothes and he tugged on yours. You fumbled to get onto the bed, chasing each other as you scrambled up towards the pillows; you refused to let each other's mouths stray too far though.

"You know," Eddie panted as he pulled away from you to pull his t-shirt over his head. "Maybe the Writer was onto something, though; I really like kissing you."

"Uh huh," you scoffed, your own shirt gone, and you fumbled with the buttons of your jeans. "Do you wanna stop then?"

"Fuck no," he responded and ducked his head to your bare stomach.

His fingers fought with yours on your waistband as he kissed up the softness of your belly, then the dip between your breasts, then up to your neck.

"You know I'm really good at giving hickeys," he muttered into the corner of your jaw. The words tumbled out of his mouth, almost like they weren't his. It took him to realize that they weren't actually his. They were The Writer's. Maybe this was working after all. "Like, really good."

"Put your money where your mouth is Munson," came your reply as your hand slipped into his waistband.

And it was such a strange sensation, maybe just for Eddie, maybe the both of you, when your hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed and he sucked on your pulse like his life depended on it.

Pleasure definitely, and maybe pain; a little mortification and a lot of confusion.

The crescendo of moans from the two of you that your brains said sounded like music but all your ears heard was utter filth. The difference between what the Writer demanded--what they wrote--and what the two of you experience.

And then you released each other, and looked into one another's eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What is this?" Eddie chuckled into your neck. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," you mirrored him. Your free hand reached up and caressed his face, fingers brushing into his bangs. "But I wouldn't do this with anyone but you."

The rest of your clothes were shed, then, and more kisses were shared. You explored each other's bodies with hands and eyes and tongues. He liked the sounds you made when he licked his way down your body and finally got to taste you when he reached your core.

He vaguely wondered what it was the Writer was describing as he found the spots that made you moan and scream and shatter. Was it the heady taste of you? Or the weight of your thigh hiked over his shoulder? The feeling of your fingers in his hair? And then when things were reversed, when he sunk into you? What did you feel? Did you feel the weight of him on your body, the sweet affirmations he whispered into you, or the way your thighs pulled him closer? The need to have him in you and around you?

Did they write about the slow build of pleasure between you? The chase of it as he bucked into you and you pulled him deeper? Did they know the exact moment that your hands reached down to press into the spot where you connected?

What was it that a Writer experienced when the characters they wrote about shared those intimate moments together? Did they feel their own sense of lust at the thought of bodies melding into one another? Did they feel a sense of shame or intrusion?

Or maybe they felt left out? That this love, this experience, would never really happen to them? Maybe it was just some facsimile with their own partner? Or could this only ever experienced secondhand through words written on a page, never to truly be had on their own?

Eddie paused and looked down at you--at the scrunch of your eyes as you touched yourself, as you touched him, and moaned his name--and he did his best to banish the Writer from his mind.

From this room.

Because this truly was something that should only belong to you and Eddie.

Before everything faded to darkness, before whatever "scene" came to a close, you reached your peaks together.

Because strings or no strings, whether the writer existed or not, whether this was real or fanfiction, it was just the two of you.

You and Eddie.

Together.

"I love you."

Next Chapter: Lemon Coming Soon

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[twitchmattentusiast]

do you think matt’s a boy or girl dad

hear me out. he’s both.

when you guys were a year into the relationship, matt realised you hadn’t spoken about kids, and well, considering he really wanted them in the future, he brought it up one night. 

you were cuddled to his side, half asleep but refusing to give into the sleep because you were debriefing how your date went with your hometown best friends.

matt watched you nervously. he had been quiet all day. well, quieter than usual, that is. you had asked him all day what was wrong, but he brushed it off, saying it was nothing; he was just tired, but it wasn’t nothing. the question had been playing on his mind all day and it mattered to him, and that? that scared him.

he had been practicing how he was going to ask you all day. had it all planned out, but since it was 3 in the morning and he was fighting back sleep, it kind of just slipped from his mouth. 

“d’ you want kids?”

you froze, and matt's eyes widened, realising he let it slip. he was not supposed to ask like that. “sorry i-“

his heart dropped as you moved off his chest. you were looking straight in his eyes, and he was so sure that in that moment you’d laugh at him. tell him you didn’t even love him and break up with him.

hey, matt had always been an overthinker.

but instead you leaned forward and pressed your hands to his cheeks, cupping his face with the biggest grin he’d ever seen on your face. “are you freaking crazy? obviously, i want kids.”

he let out a sigh of relief, and you guys ended up having sex. what? the topic of kids made you both horny. 

after what might have been three rounds of the hottest sex you two had ever had. you laid back on his chest, and his hands brushed your hair softly.

“i think i want three.” you said, “no four! wait-“

matt chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hair. "think i want three too.” matt smiled. “want some boys and girls, you know a little mixture?”

you nodded your head in agreement. you came from a family of all girls, so you knew how difficult it was to deal with females, but you desperately wanted a daughter. at least one. a little girl you could go on nail trips to the salon with. stay up late at night gossiping, doing her hair. helping her with all of her firsts, she would be too embarrassed to go to her dad, for although matt would try his hardest to help even if his browser history looked a little silly and he wandered through the cosmetics section looking completely lost as he stared at all the pads and tampons trying to find the right ones you had sent him a picture of.

some teenager would probably see him looking all lost and would help him, and he'd thank her endlessly, ranting about how he has no clue what he's doing and he's sure his daughter might be dying. when he comes back home and tells you. you and your daughter make fun of him, though your daughter gives him a hug for being the best dad ever, which he is.

he’d playfully roll his eyes and call her corny, though he's fighting back the biggest smile.

you could picture matt doing all of that. he was so soft, so full of love, he was born to be a girl dad.

but matt came from a family full of boys. With three brothers, males was kind of all he knew. you knew he’d be over the moon having a daughter, but you could also picture him with some sons. probably two, maybe three. enough that matt could pretend to be the goalie while they played football, basketball, or some kind of sport.

when they got older, he’d tell them the only reason he wanted sons in the first place was so he had someone to play video games with, and his sons would get offended, but you’d laugh knowing that was half the truth.

matt would help them with all their firsts because although your sons are major mommy’s boys, he gets so offended at the idea that they’ll come to you for male-related things, so he’ll literally shuffle you out of the room because he can handle it himself. you roll your eyes and tell your sons to just go with it because it means a lot to matt. 

"I want a mix too,” you say, fighting back a smile because you can picture it. matt being the best dad ever to however many sons or daughters you guys have.

matt chuckles and pulls you in for a soft kiss you guys not sleeping because your on such a high talking about it you giggle about what your kids will be like.

two years later, after a year of deciding to wait and then a year of major trial and error. your pregnant with twins. 

you're lying on the bed, matt's hand tightly in yours as you stare at the nurse. excitement in both of your eyes.

“It’s a boy and a girl.” she tells you, and you and your boyfriend turn to look at each other with major excitement.

your not surprised when matt pulls his phone out to call his brothers a second later. “it’s a boy and a fucking girl, guys!” his brows furrowed. “justin, i already told you it was twins. keep up, man, what the fuck?”

he moves his phone away from his ear. rolling his eyes as he tells you. "kid doesn't even remember i told him we're having twins. fake as fuck uncle."

you just laugh, and chris, nick, and justin’s faces light up. "is that y/n?" snd before you know it, the five of you are talking about the fact that there's going to be a mini y/n and matt running around.

[angeliqueiguess]

“Focus!” (j.jh)

021. unknown warnings: swearing, drama, like, a lot. fulla angst

The sound of the doorbell made Y/n jump slightly on the sofa of her apartment. Instinctively, she glanced at the wall clock—it read two o’clock in the afternoon. She looked back at the door, as if confirming the time could somehow prepare her for what was about to happen. But the doorbell rang again, pulling her out of her reverie. With a nervous sigh, she got up and walked to the door. Upon opening it, there stood Jaehyun, greeting her with a tense smile that resembled more of a grimace than genuine warmth.

“Come in,” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper yet clear enough for him to hear. Jaehyun nodded silently and stepped inside. Suddenly, the small, warm, and cozy apartment felt tighter, the air thicker with his presence. The waiting was over, and now that he was there, Y/n felt words stuck in her throat.

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked, more to fill the awkward silence than out of genuine hospitality.

“Yes, thank you,” Jaehyun replied softly. Y/N took her time as she headed to the kitchen, feeling the weight of the atmosphere grow heavier with each passing second. She wanted this moment to be over, to let the tension dissipate like steam from her third cup of tea.

When she returned with the glass of water, she froze. Jaehyun had turned his back to her, holding a picture frame that rested on a shelf—the very one she had thought about hiding before he arrived but had ultimately forgotten to move. Idiot, she scolded herself silently. Clearing her throat to get his attention, Jaehyun turned slowly, still holding the picture. A mix of nostalgia and melancholy played on his face, as if the weight of memories had suddenly crashed down on him.

“I still remember that day,” Jaehyun murmured, settling down on the sofa with the frame still in his hands. “It was when we made you believe that sand was sweet.”

Y/n managed a crooked smile as her eyes fell on the photo. There they were, three happy kids on a sunny beach: Johnny and Jaehyun, both around eight, and little Y/n, just six, posing together with the sea behind them.

Finally, Jaehyun placed the picture frame on the table, as if the memory burned his fingers, and accepted the glass of water Y/n handed him. He took a sip, letting the nostalgia mingle with the awkward silence that hung between them. She stood there for a moment longer, gazing at the photo and feeling the years that had separated them weigh as heavily as those happy memories.

“Yes,” Y/n replied as she sat beside him, leaving a comfortable space between them. “It was a bit cruel to make me eat sand, but... it’s my favorite picture.” She smiled nostalgically, her gaze fixed on the photograph on the coffee table. Jaehyun nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips, the kind that emerges when a happy memory is tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

Y/N turned her gaze away from the photo and looked at him. The weight of the words she had held back for so long felt unbearable. It’s now or never, she told herself.

“I’m sorry for leaving yesterday,” she finally blurted out. Jaehyun met her eyes, sensing the discomfort in them.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he replied sincerely, turning toward her. “I understand.”

She observed him for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek, until the doubts that had eaten away at her surfaced.

“Why now?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Jaehyun frowned, not grasping her meaning. Noticing his confusion, Y/n rephrased her question. “Why do you want to apologize now?”

He took a deep breath before responding, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“Because I wasn’t ready before,” he admitted with sincerity. “But now I am.”

Y/n wanted to say something, but the words remained stuck in her throat. Grateful for the silence, Jaehyun pressed on.

“I owe your brother a thank you,” Jaehyun began, his voice wavering slightly. “He’s the one who helped me see things clearly... who pushed me to find the courage I couldn’t find on my own.” He rubbed his palms over his knees, almost compulsively, as if trying to steady himself against the weight of his own words. His fingers clenched, then relaxed, as though grounding himself. "I wanted to apologize so many times, for so long,” Jaehyun continued, his voice a whisper by the end. His eyes lifted to meet hers, pleading, yet soft, almost afraid of how she'd respond. He hesitated, then added, “It’s okay if you can’t say anything right now... I just need you to hear me.”

Y/N settled into the chair, restless. She nodded slightly, giving him permission to continue. She knew this was an important step, even as the knot in her stomach kept tightening.

“I completely understand why you hate me,” Jaehyun said, his voice barely above a whisper, weighed down by guilt. “I used to think... ‘hate’ was such a harsh word. But now, looking back, realizing what I did to you, all the hurt I caused, I know that feeling is justified. It’s valid.” His words trembled, and he let out a heavy, trembling sigh, as though each syllable dragged some hidden weight from deep within him, one he’d kept buried far too long. “All these years, I hid behind someone I never wanted to be,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Someone I promised you I’d never become.” There was a pain in his eyes, raw and unguarded, the kind of pain that only surfaces after years of regret and self-loathing. He looked down, as though ashamed to even meet her gaze, his hands tightening into fists as he tried to contain the shame he felt.

Y/n listened in silence, her face impassive, but inside, a storm was raging. She battled between two versions of herself: the fourteen-year-old girl who still carried the pain of abandonment and the present-day Y/n, trying to maintain control and not fall apart.

“Do you have any idea how much damage you caused?” she finally asked, her voice barely holding together as she fought back the tears that glistened in her eyes. Jaehyun looked down, unable to face her. He’d promised himself he’d never hurt her, never be the reason for her pain. But now, seeing her like this—seeing what he’d caused—made him feel more hollow and ashamed than he’d ever imagined. “I spent so many nights crying,” Y/N continued, her voice catching. “Nights when Johnny or Mom would sit by me, trying to reassure me, telling me you’d come back.” She let out a shaky breath, her words laced with years of quiet heartbreak. “And even though I knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t, I still waited for you. I still wished for you every day.”

Jaehyun closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could push away the weight of his own mistakes, but he failed. The damage was done, and there was no option but to face it.

“I swear I’m sorry, Y/n,” he began, his voice trembling, weighed down by years of unspoken regret. “I hate myself every time I remember what I did to you. I was just a stupid kid… I know that doesn’t excuse it, but even now it kills me, knowing that one careless, selfish decision meant losing you, breaking something I can never fix.” His voice faltered, and she could see his eyes, red and glassy, struggling to hold back tears. “It’s okay if you still hate me. I deserve that. I just… I just need you to know that since I saw you again, I’m trying to be better every single day. For you, for myself. And the love I had back then, the one I thought I’d lost? It’s still here, Y/N… only now, it’s a thousand times stronger.”

Jaehyun looked at her with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. Y/n dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling emotions swirl in her chest. She didn’t know how to respond or even what to feel. Jaehyun’s words had been overwhelming.

“Jaehyun, I... I’m sorry,” she murmured, getting to her feet and walking toward the kitchen, searching for space to breathe and think. But before she could fully distance herself, he gently grabbed her arm.

“I understand if we’re not on the same page,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice barely holding steady, every word a plea. “I respect that, I do. I just… I just needed you to know how I feel.” His hand shook as he held hers, clinging to that last thread of connection. “Everything I did was out of fear—fear of not being enough, of facing my own insecurities. I thought pushing you away would protect me from that... from everything I was too afraid to confront.”

A tear slipped down his cheek as he searched her face for even a glimmer of forgiveness, his eyes dark and haunted. “All I can ask is that you forgive me. Please, Y/n. I know it might be too late, but I need you to know how sorry I am.” He released her hand, feeling the ache of loss settle into his chest, and watched her walk away.

“I need time to think,” Y/n said, not turning around, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. “This is too much for me.”

She took refuge in the kitchen, resting her hands on the edge of the sink as she tried to control her breathing. She wasn’t going to cry. She had to face this clearly, without being swept away by the tide of emotions engulfing her.

After a few minutes, she gathered enough strength and returned to the living room. She found Jaehyun whimpering and wiping his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, a gesture that made Y/n realize this wasn’t the distant boy she had known over the years. He wasn’t the perfect, unattainable star from the magazines. There, in front of her, stood the sixteen-year-old Jaehyun she had left behind, broken and lost but authentic.

“Jaehyun...” she said from the kitchen doorway, her voice firmer than she expected. He looked up, his eyes still puffy and his skin flushed from crying. “I forgive you,” Y/n whispered.

She didn’t need to say more. The moment the words left her lips, Jaehyun quickly got up and enveloped her in a desperate embrace, as if fearing she might vanish at any moment. At first, she froze, surprised by the intensity of the moment. But it only took her a heartbeat to reciprocate, sinking into his arms and allowing all the emotions that had built up over the years to flood out in that embrace.

Y/n remained in Jaehyun’s arms, feeling the irregular rhythm of his breath against her hair. The hug was warm, comforting, almost like it could erase the years of pain between them. But something inside her felt out of place, as if another truth loomed over them.

“Jaehyun…” she whispered, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze, unsure of what the future held for them. “I don’t know what comes next,” she admitted softly, the weight of uncertainty palpable.

“Me neither,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face with trembling fingers. “But I want to be here with you, right now.”

In that moment, Y/n chose to let go of the worries that plagued her. She silenced the doubts in her mind and allowed Jaehyun to kiss her, a kiss that held the weight of years unspoken, filled with tenderness and uncertainty. As their lips met, the world around them faded, and in that breathless moment, all the pain and loss melted away. When the kiss finally ended, they stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths mingling as they tried to catch their breath.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Jaehyun said softly, a smile breaking through his tears. Y/n returned the smile, though the weight of their past still loomed over them like a shadow.

For now, that was enough.

Hours passed—almost three—during which Jaehyun and Y/n reminisced about their childhood, sharing stories that brought smiles to their faces. Even though they couldn’t cover everything they wanted to, their gentle laughter helped lighten the heavy emotions that had lingered between them for years. Eventually, the moment to say goodbye arrived. Jaehyun left with a genuine smile, reassuring her that he would see her at work the next day.

As Y/N closed the door behind him, she leaned against it, feeling conflicted about everything that had just unfolded. Their conversation had been intense, a whirlwind of emotions that made her eager to share everything with her best friend. Just as she was about to take that first step, her phone buzzed with a message that completely threw her off balance.

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note: what the flipping flip? this was a rollercoaster of things (dont hate me hehe) let me know what y'all think! hope u like this one and please make sure y'all take care of yourselves and drink water! love yaaa! <3 <3 <3

Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @livingdoll-hara @cryingforjae @heavenjae @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @hahaechans (TAGLIST OPEN!)

[bitbybitwrites]

I really should change some of these banners . . because its always more than 6 sentences with me . . 😂

Thanks to the following lovelies who have tagged me for Six/Seven/Several Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday lately:

@porcelainmortal @iboatedhere @caterpills @nocoastposts @seths-rogens

@thesleepyskipper @onthewaytosomewhere @forabeatofadrum @alasse9

@blueeyedgrlwrites

Here are a couple of things for ya all: 1 Klaine and 1 RWRB selection for you under the cut:

Another snippet from my RWRB fic, Puppy Love

(cc @omgbarbiegurl )

Henry blushed ( way too prettily in Alex’s opinion).  “I . . just help out here.  It’s really Pez -  He was the one who helped get this place off the ground. I don’t do that much. “ “Don’t belittle yourself, H.” Alex said as he stepped closer.  “I can tell these folks here like you, look up to you.  It’s a vibe.  I can feel it.”  Alex sidled up closer to Henry, slyly grinning as he slipped a hand to Henry’s waist, letting his fingers curl in that soft, sweet dip that he’s been aching to touch for so long.  Henry shivered a little at the warmth of Alex’s palm, the closeness of him. “I . . I just want these kids to have what I never got . . .” Henry said softly.  “My father died before I could come out to him.  My mother is just  a shell of herself since he passed.  It was like I had lost two parents that day he left us.  Of the remaining family, only my sister Bea is supportive.  My brother Phillip is a knob and spends way too much time with my homophobic grandmother to remember that I happen to be his brother as well.” ‘H . .” Alex frowned, he didn’t like that slight tinge of sadness he heard in the other man’s voice.  “ Well, fuck ‘em.  Not Bea of course.  She sounds amazing.  But the other two.” His fingers gave Henry’s waist a supportive squeeze.  “At least you have your sister and Pez . .  the folks who live and run this place . . and, well, me.”  He flashed Henry sweet, shy smile. Henry’s heart swelled as he leaned closer to whisper.  “ I have you, do I?” “For as much and as long as you want me, baby.”

****

And this part of the next chapter of my Klaine epic: If I Can Make Your Heart My Home

(cc @datshitrandom)

Blaine’s arms reached out towards the other side of the bed.  His eyes popped open as his fingers felt the cool bedsheets next to him. No warm body as he expected. No Kurt. His heart started racing as the panic started to set in. It wasn’t a dream.   It couldn’t have been.  Blaine’s body bore witness to that. Did Kurt leave? Again? The scent of cinnamon slowly wafted through the  open doorway, causing Blaine to clumsily fall out of the bed and rush out of the room, down the stairs and to the kitchen. Breathless, he jogged through the doorway, stopping short at the sight of Kurt, wearing his bathrobe, bending over to take something out of the oven. “You’re here.” Blaine said, surprised and relieved at the same time. Kurt chuckled as he placed the hot metal tray onto of the oven to cool.  “Of course I’m here, “ he said over his shoulder, all the while shaking his head.  He took the oven mitt off his hand and tossed it on the counter.   “I’m here and you’re . .” Kurt said as he shut the oven door and turned around .  He blushed as he saw Blaine. “You’re . . . you’re . . naked.”

Annnnnnd tagging if you want to share anything you've been working on - and OPEN TAG for anyone who just wants to share:

@madas-ahatters-world @coffeegleek @little-escapist @wowbright @hkvoyage

@sophie1973 @theprinceandagcd @spaceorphan18 @annepi-blog @daisyishedwig

@tailsbeth-writes @thinkof-england @getmehighonmagic @cryscendo @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

@rockitmans @14carrotghoul @myheartalivewrites @caramelcoffeeaddict @1908jmd

@scatter-the-stars @yadivagirl @kirakiwiwrites @bowtiesnmusicals @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

@cerriddwenluna @kurtsascot

[mattsfavseason]

Unexpected Spotlight

The Sturniolo's were back in the studio, goofing around like usual. Matt was behind the mic, doing his best impression of a rapper, dramatically holding out high notes that sounded anything but in tune. Nick was at the soundboard, pressing random buttons with zero clue what they did. And Chris? Well, he was busy making faces at his brothers through the soundproof glass, trying to distract them.

You were there too, just hanging out on the sidelines, watching the chaos with a grin. They’d invited you along for the day, saying it was supposed to be a "serious" session, but knowing the Sturniolos, you hadn’t expected much seriousness at all.

Nick finally gave up trying to work the soundboard and shot you a playful look. “Alright, enough of this,” he declared, dramatically grabbing the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we have a very special guest with us in the studio!” He motioned toward you. “Our talented friend, Y/n here to show us up!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not here to show anyone up,” you laughed, though a little voice inside dared you to step up to the mic. “Besides, you guys are doing… great?” You tried to sound convincing, though everyone knew you were kidding.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris laughed, nudging you forward. “Come on, give it a try. I bet you can’t sound worse than Matt just did.”

“Hey!” Matt protested, though he was grinning. “I’ll have you know that was my Grammy-worthy performance.”

Nick and Chris both groaned, and then all three of them started egging you on. “Come on! Just one song,” Nick said, winking.

Finally, you caved, stepping up to the mic while the guys cheered. The moment you put on the headphones, everything else kind of faded into the background. You took a deep breath, then started singing the first song that came to mind, letting your voice fill the room. The smooth sound of your voice seemed to surprise even you as you leaned into it, letting each note fall naturally.

When you finished, you took off the headphones, expecting the usual jokes, but there was silence on the other end. The triplets were staring at you, mouths open.

“Um… hello?” you said, waving your hand at them. “Are you guys broken or something?”

Matt was the first to speak. “Yo… you can sing. Like, actually sing.”

Chris’s eyes were wide. “How long have you been hiding that from us?”

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I just… didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

Nick shook his head, grinning. “Oh, it’s a big deal. You’re like, incredible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as they went on, excitedly talking about how you should be the one recording songs in the studio, not them. Chris was already looking up local open mics for you, Matt was claiming he could be your manager, and Nick was insisting they all knew it from the beginning, even though he totally didn’t.

After a few minutes, they finally stopped talking, and Nick looked at you seriously. “Honestly, if you wanted, we’d totally back you up. Imagine going viral together?”

You looked at the three of them, amazed and grateful. You had no idea how you’d stumbled upon friends who’d support you like this, but one thing was clear: with the Sturniolo triplets on your team, you were pretty much unstoppable.

Tags: @daysonend @chrisbabymomma @sophand4n4

Special tag: @mssmarais

[browniesarethebest]

What Would You Do?

A Reverse Batfamily fic

Summary: Chilling on a rooftop turns philosophical.

“Do you ever miss your parents?”

Jason blinked and looked over at Dick, who stared at the sky above them. They were lying on the roof of the Manor, stargazing as they snacked on some of Alfred’s cookies and drank hot chocolate. The blankets they were sharing kept the chill of the fast-coming autumn away. Jason thought they were having a nice time, getting away from their older siblings, but it seemed that Dick had other things on his mind.

“My dad? No. He sucked a lot, and good riddance. But my mom? She made a lot of mistakes, but she wasn’t a bad mom.” Jason bit his lip and looked back at the stars. “I miss her.”

Dick hummed, a frown marring his usually cheerful demeanor.

“...What about you?” Jason knew it was a dumb question to ask, but he hated the silence that had followed his answer.

“I miss them a lot,” Dick replied, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. “I miss them every day. Sometimes, I have dreams where they’re still alive, and then I wake up in the Manor really confused until I remember they’re dead. Then, I get sad.”

Jason’s grip tightened on the blanket, turning his knuckles white. This conversation was quickly heading into territory that Jason didn’t feel comfortable with. “Have you talked to Bruce?”

Dick sighed. “Yeah. He understands, but he also doesn’t.”

“How so?”

“He was raised by Alfred after, but Alfred had already been in his life. You guys… You guys weren’t.”

Jason waited for Dick to continue, his brow furrowing as the silence went on again. “...And?”

Dick remained quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Do you think… Do you think if Bruce had a chance to make it so that his parents never died, he would take it?” Dick continued before Jason could reply. “Because if he made it so they never died, he probably wouldn’t have met us.”

“What?”

“‘Cause if Bruce’s parents never died, he wouldn’t have become Batman. He wouldn’t have gone to train with the League of Assassins, so he wouldn’t have Damian. If Batman didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have met Steph or Cass or you. Timmy once said that Bruce sees himself in us, so would he have taken us in if that was no longer true? Where would we be now?”

“I—” Jason didn’t know what to say. This was definitely not something he had thought about, but now he couldn’t stop. Jason was only 14 years old, but it felt like he was having a midlife crisis at the moment.

Dick noticed his older brother’s panic and winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s—It’s fine.” Jason took a deep breath. “What exactly brought this on?”

Dick shrugged. “Just been thinking lately.”

“Have you talked to the others?”

“No, you’re the first person I told.”

Jason’s heart warmed at his brother’s trust in him, and he hoped he wasn’t breaking it with his reaction. “Thanks for telling me.” He swallowed nervously as he thought about Dick’s question. “I don’t know if Bruce would take the chance or not. I would hope he wouldn’t, but…” 

Dick’s question had hit a little too close to home with Jason’s insecurities. Jason knew that Bruce loved them, but did he love them more than his parents? The people he had idolized for the last 30-something years? Jason wished he could confidently answer that Bruce would choose his kids, but their adoptive father had always been a wild card.

Dick nodded at Jason’s silence. “Yeah.”

They fell into an awkward silence, ruminating as they stared at the stars, until Jason finally blurted out, “would you?”

Dick blinked and looked over at his brother curiously. “Would I what?”

“If you were given the opportunity to make it so that your parents never died, would you take it?”

“Oh.” Dick went back to looking at the sky. Jason could see him fiddling with the blanket, though his expression was contemplative. He squashed down the urge to pick at the blanket as he waited.

The silence went on long enough that Jason was about to tell his brother nevermind when Dick spoke again. “If you had asked me three years ago, I would have said yes. My parents and the circus were my whole world, but I’m forgetting things now.” His voice trembled, choking with tears, and Jason took his hand. His younger brother gave him a wobbly smile. “It’s harder to remember what they sounded like or how they laughed. How exactly their arms felt when they gave me a hug. What they smelled like. It’s going away, and I can’t stop it.”

Dick swiped at his eyes. “But now I have you guys. I can smell Alfred’s hot chocolate. I can hear the sound of Damian’s pencil as he sketches in the living room. I feel the warmth of my second family surrounding me as we fall asleep during movie night.” He squeezed Jason’s hand. “I can’t give it up. I can’t live in a world where I don’t have you guys anymore. I think my parents would understand.”

Jason rolled over, pulling his brother close and pressing their foreheads together. He was fighting back his own tears as he listened to Dick’s speech, moved by the love his younger brother had for them. “I can’t imagine a world without you guys either. I miss my mom, but I think she’d understand too. I think she’s happy I found a good place with good people.”

Dick wrapped his arms around Jason in a tight hug before letting go and rolling back to look back at the sky again, smiling wryly. “Thanks, Jay. Sorry for bringing the mood down. I’m usually the one bringing it up.”

Jason hummed. They fell back into silence as they watched the stars, but it didn’t feel awkward or tense this time. Jason was just starting to fall asleep when he heard a shout from further down the roof. He jolted up and found Stephanie climbing up, their other siblings close behind.

“Hey, squirts! Having a party without us?”

Jason was slightly annoyed that their hangout was being interrupted—this was supposed to be for just the two of them—but it subsided when he saw the smile break out on Dick’s face. His little brother had been far too gloom and doom, and if this was what it took to cheer him up, Jason would let it slide. He called out to his oldest sister, “yeah, but it’s no dorks allowed!”

“Damn.” She turned back to the others. “You hear that? Sorry, Tim. Damian. You’re not invited.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he climbed onto the roof. “And what about you and Cass?”

“Not dorks,” Cass replied as she appeared behind him, ruffling his hair.

“I am not going back down,” Damian said, the last to make it onto the roof.

Jason’s older siblings crowded around, laying out their own blankets and pillows. He grumbled but was quickly appeased with refills of Alfred’s hot chocolate and cookies. They all piled together with Dick and Jason in the middle. He wasn’t sure if the others had sensed the mood when they came up, but their close proximity and warmth seemed to ease his baby brother. Even Jason couldn’t help but sink into the comfort of his siblings as Stephanie and Damian argued about personal space.

Jason and Dick didn’t share their conversation with their brothers and sisters, and they didn’t ask. Maybe Dick would open up to them more in the future about his fears, but that could wait.

Jason reached out and took Dick’s hand. The younger boy looked over, shooting Jason a small smile.

Even if Dick did open up to them in the future, Jason would take satisfaction in being the one that Dick came to first.

[rhey-007]

The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P8 of Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader

• | social media au

Summary: You and Fernando prepared some surprises for the F1 world.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader, pregnancy

A/N: Another part! Yaaay! :3 Enjoy ❤

Masterlist

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ F1 NEWS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another win snatched by Fernando Alonso, followed but a little surprise on the podium.

Our two time World Champion just proposed to the love of his life! On the podium! F1 fans had never seen such an emotional moment in the driver's life ever before.

Some people are outraged by the quick decision, as the pair had been together only for a year, but neither the driver nor his fiancee seem to care. And good for them!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INSTAGRAM ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INSTAGRAM ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

liked by y/n._.l/n, aussiegrit, oscarpiastri and 305,824 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n

•fernandoalo_oficial: SHE SAID YES 🥳🎉

•kl.au_s: still can't believe she said yes 😵‍💫

→ •lance_stroll: me neither... Still can't believe how she can stand him and now this?! But congrats, still, congrats 😗

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: you're just jealous 🙄

→ •y/n._.l/n: Fernando! >:(

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: sorry Lance...

•aussiegrit: HELL YES! 😈🎉

→ •jensonbutton: PARTY TIME! 👽🎊

→ •aussiegrit: 😎

•sebastianvettel: congratulations brother! ❤

•landonorris: LET'S GOOO PEEPAW! 🥳

•user1: peepaw right now:

. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🥀 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"I still can't believe it... "

You sighed admiring the gorgeous ring gracing your finger, while Fernando squeezed your other hand when you waited for your food to come. The moment the debrief finished, you two were on your way to a fancy restaurant for a romantic dinner, to celebrate Fernando's win and your engagement.

Although you've assured your fiance you could do it the next day, as the man was visibly very tired, Alonso insisted and you couldn't say no to those big, puppy eyes of his.

"Me neither. You can't imagine how happy I am that you said yes, mi amor~ I was so nervous you would reject it... "

He admitted sheepishly.

"Why would I? "

Asking confused you gave him a worried look.

"You know... It's been just a year... "

"Oh but that doesn't matter liebling. I love you and I know well I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I knew that the day we met, I knew that the next day when you didn't get scared of my kids, I knew that when you caught great contact with both Benny AND Klaus... I couldn't wish for a better husband and father to my children"

Smiling sweetly you placed a kiss to Fernando's palm, just before your food arrived.

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"I have a surprise for you~"

You bit your finger, catching Fernando's full attention, as earlier he was working out while talking with you. He stepped out of the treadmill then wiped the sweat out of his forehead, flexing his neck. Oh how you wanted to sink your sharp teeth in that beautiful skin of his... Instead you layed on your couch bored, waiting for him to come back home for the break between race weeks...

"You do? What is it? "

He asked curiously, excitement and impatience painted on his face.

"You'll see when you come back home~"

You said teasingly.

"I'll be there tomorrow. Te Amo! "

Fernando quickly hung up after blowing you a kiss then run back to his hotel room to pack his bags. And as he said, so he did. The next day late at night, you heard your buttler let someone in. Before you've managed to leave your office, Fernando burst in, picking you up happily and hugging tightly. He put you down, kissing you passionately then grabbed your hands and asked.

"What is it? What's the surprise? And why are you up so late?! "

Placing a chaste kiss to his lips, you made him go quiet.

"Mon cher, the kids are asleep"

You reminded.

"I had something important to finish, don't be mad"

"I'm not mad, just worried"

He admitted. It seemed that he took a way better care of your health than you yourself did, as whenever he was gone you stayed up late almost every night.

"Soo... What's the surprise?"

The man asked one last time. You smiled softly, then took out a present bag from underneath your desk and handed it to him. Looking inside he noticed an envelope and a black piece of fabric.

The moment Fernando took a T-shirt out of the bag and saw the print on it, he quickly ripped the envelope open. Tears started running down his cheeks as he read the content.

"I-Is it.. Real?... "

He asked, voice shaky, as you wiped his tears away and cupped his cheek lovingly.

"It is... You're going to be a father"

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INSTAGRAM ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton, maxverstappen and 105,824 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: we might or might not have been veeery busy 🤭

•landonorris: IT'S YOUR FIRST TIME AND YOU ALREADY LANDED TWO???

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: I'm a real man after all 😎

→ •landonorris: says who? 🤨

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: everyone.

•kl.au_s: another two weeping angels... Great...

→ •y/n._.l/n: meanwhile you the moment they are born:

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: exactly 🧍‍♀️

→ •user2: poor bro's been exposed by his own mother...

•jensonbutton: •aussiegrit WE'RE GONNA BE UNCLES! JDBSSNSKMZMS

→ •aussiegrit: fucking finally 🙏

→ •frnandoalo_oficial: says the childless one - _ -

→ •aussiegrit: I have Oscar alright? He's more than enough ❤

→ •y/n._.l/n: that's so cute 🥰💕

•susie_wolff: I admire that you have so much strength to welcome 2 more kids while you already have 3, good luck and congratulations honey! ❤

→ •y/n._.l/n: thank you Schatz! (Darling)

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: 3? 🤨

→ •lance_stroll: she's talking bout you grandpa

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: 😲 •susie_wolff you did NOT

→ •susie_wolff: 😁

•user: does Benny know tho? 🤔

→ •y/n._.l/n: not yet 😉

→ •user: reaction video incoming??? PLEASE!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ INSTAGRAM ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

liked by y/n._.l/n, lance_stroll, landonorris and 405,824 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n

•fernandoalo_oficial: this one's for the kids 💪😎 (all 4)

•user: so glad Fernando doesn't forget about the ogs now that Y/N's expecting 💪

→ •user: that's what true parents do, and our champ is ready to become one!

•maxverstappen1: another luck charms! You're too lucky! 😉

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: I'm just better 😝

•oscarpiastri: damn... leave something for us pops...

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: no, thank you 😚 3rd WDC incoming! 😈

→ •maxverstappen1: you wish!

→ •landonorris: YOU wish!

→ •charles_leclerc: you both wish 🤭

•lewishamilton: surprises after surprises... Chill brother, chill

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: nahh, I'm gonna snatch another win next weekend 😎

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Just after Fernando finished filming and him and Klaus left the room, Benny's smile dropped. He tugged on your sleeve then whispered.

"Mommy? "

"Yes honey? "

"I'm so happy I'll be a big brother but... Doesn't that mean you and papa are gonna forget about me and Klausie?... "

You sighed heavily, sitting down next to your son and tugging him to your side.

"Oh baby... Of course not. We're not gonna forget about anyone, no one is going to be left out, you don't have to worry about that. We're going to divide our love and attention equally between you two. Sure, the babys' will need then more sometimes, but it won't change anything. I promise"

You said placing a kiss to Benny's head while he hugged your side.

"Okay. I believe you mom"

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Tag list: @morgan-getty @lichterfee @ashy-kit @champomiel