#i hope u have a better saturday than i do!!!

[recareels]

i had nightmare after nightmare after nightmare last night and not once was there a handsome director man there to console me and fuck me into a state of bliss :((

[deus-ex-mona]

the times that lxl acted like a married couple

and the one time they were actually married

[haechaninmyheart]

feel it

the image does not belong to me. credits to the original owner.

summary - during an afternoon spent in a practice room, you learn more than just the dance routine from jeno.

pairing - idol!jeno x afab!reader.

genre - smut, idol!au.

word count - 1.7k.

warnings - accidentally feeling jeno’s boner?, blowjob, a lil bit of facefucking, kinda pinning reader against wall, nipple play, creampie. 

author’s note - bonjours! have some jeno smut hehe >:) also i do apologise for any errors but I don’t have the brain cells to proof read :< hope u enjoy this shawties luv camisole. 

18+ content ahead, minors don’t interact!!!

. . .

Jeno’s body is moving sharply as music blasts from the speakers within the practice room. He’s learning the choreography to the latest song you two have been working on. It's not due to be released until next Saturday, but both of you have been perfecting the choreography for it. The teaser had already received a lot of love and support from fans so you don’t want to fall below their high expectations. 

He continues to carry on as you stroll into the room, the squeaking of his trainers against the floor sounding unpleasant to your ears and making you grimace for a moment but you know you’ll soon be able to ignore the awful noise. 

Setting your bag down in one corner of the room and leaning against the wall with a water bottle in your hand, you watch Jeno complete the last steps of the choreography. The steps he was planning on teaching you today. 

As the room falls quiet, Jeno saunters over to where you’re standing, mirroring your body against the wall as he soon slides down to the floor. The sweat beads on his forehead glisten under the lighting of the practice room, suggesting that he’s been here for a while. 

“You’re better than me.” You chuckle, leaning down to pass him the bottle of water. You’re referring to the earlier parts of the dance routine you’d already learned. 

Jeno chugs it down in one go before responding with a thank you and bounces back on his feet soon after. Squishing the plastic bottle in his hands with ease, before dropping it on the floor. His strength always amazed you and made you wonder what he would be like in bed?

“Right!” You chirp and pace to the middle of the practice room, feeling ashamed as if Jeno could hear your thoughts from how close he was squatting next to you. “Teach me the choreography.”

. . .

It’s 2:35pm when you finally master the whole choreography from start to finish. Your legs are beginning to feel a little weak and you nearly want to fall to the floor when Jeno says- 

“Now, from the beginning.”

You face scrunches into a frown and you want to complain about how you are tired but you understand that your performance was quite soon. Any time spent practising for it was going to help you give a better show to your fans. 

The song starts and before you know it, your body starts moving to the music blaring from the speakers. You even catch yourself mouthing the lyrics as you study your moves in the mirror, your eyes occasionally wandering to Jeno’s figure when he got close. 

You’re more than halfway through the song when you feel a slight pain in your calf and mess up your step. 

Jeno’s awfully fast to notice.

“We were so close!” He cries out, raising both his arms, dramatically flailing them as he falls to his knees. 

You blurt out a long string of apologies but before you can explain that the discomfort in your leg is what led you to mess up, Jeno’s behind you. He begins to guide you through that specific step, his body dangerously close to yours. 

You feel as if you even moved back an inch, you’d be pressed right against him and that’s the only thing that occupies your mind as he directs you with his hands. It’s not until they move to your hips to instruct you that you nearly throw yourself away from him. 

“Jeno!” Your tone sounds panicked when you blurt out his name but you try to hide it with a light laugh. “Not, not too close… ” Your face feels hot.

“Why?” Jeno questions you, innocence and sweat painting his face. 

“Because, uh, because,” You pretend to fan your face, “it’s too hot in here, wow.”

“You can take off your sweatshirt, you know.” 

You pause. 

If there was another level of embarrassment that one could feel, you were surely feeling it at this moment. 

“Uh, I, I can’t...” Nervousness laced in between your words, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” 

“Huh?”

The song stops, for a moment but it feels too long with how Jeno is staring at you, your confession repeating in his hand. He watches you roll up your sleeves and then the music begins again, automatically. 

You go straight performing the dance routine as if this interaction never took place but underneath your terrible poker face, you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.  

Jeno doesn’t join you in the choreography this time, instead his eyes remain focused on your figure in the mirror. He’s giving you the same look you were giving him as he crushed the bottle.  

Soon the song reaches the part where you messed up a couple minutes ago and with his full attention on you, he can see your body tense up. He guides you once again but this time there’s a few more inches of space between the two of you. 

However, it doesn’t stay this way for long. With an unfocused mind, you find yourself tripping over your own feet and falling backwards- How unprofessional- but the cherry on top? You bring Jeno down with you and in doing so, his boner presses against you and you feel it right against your ass. 

Jeno tries to hide it, adjusting his t-shirt and moving onto his feet before asking if you were alright. 

“Oh my god, you’re hard.” 

Jeno’s cheeks begin to go pink. 

“Are you?” 

He can’t believe you’re actually asking him that after nearly taking a seat on his lap as if it were free real estate but gives the slightest nod down. 

“Is this… just from watching me dance?” You harshly whisper, covering your mouth. Unsure if to apologise to him or thank yourself for being clumsy. 

Another subtle nod. 

“I’ll be right back.” You watch Jeno stand up, the shape of his cock visible from underneath his top and he begins to pace towards the door. 

“Wait!” Your voice causes him to stop mid step and he turns around. “I can help.” 

Jeno turns around and your eyes go straight down to the bulge in his joggers. 

“If you plan on jerking off in the toilets… I can give you something better.” 

Jeno doesn’t even think twice when you offer, not even questioning what you may have on your mind. Right now, anything you could give would be better than his own hands. 

Soon you have the man against the wall with you kneeling by his feet and his cock in your mouth. He’s packing more than you had thought but you weren’t an amaetur to blowjobs. Deep throating his length as you looked up at him. 

Jeno could just cum from the way you were looking up at him, your glistening pretty eyes and his cock stuffed into your mouth. Your pretty lips wrapped around his dick made Jeno want to facefuck you until his climax. 

Whilst one hand holds up his t-shirt, the other plants itself in the roots of your hair. Jeno’s tugging at the strands gently but when he feels his orgasm creeping up on him, his grip tightens and you move back. 

“Take your sweatshirt off.”

You pull it over your head with caution, trying to avoid getting the mixture of precum and saliva on your lips and chin, on your clothes. You’re down to your bra and leggings. 

Jeno gives you a hand, pulling you up before pushing you against the wall. It feels cold against your back as Jeno tugs down the straps of your bra before he begins to kiss and suck your boobs. Whilst his lips were on one, he massages the other, a few times tugging at the nipple but not too harshly. He didn’t know what your pain tolerance was but still he enjoyed being mean in the sheets. 

One of his hands trails down to your core and his palm massages you over your leggings, leaving a wet spot from your arousal. Jeno hears you let out a moan, the sound like a melody to his ears and his dick twitches against your thigh. With one swift movement he flips you around, your face against the cold surface and your ass against his cock. 

Something in you makes you want to push your ass back against his length, so you do and earn a warning from his. 

“Don’t.” For the first time in a while you’re intimidated by Jeno. 

He yanks down your leggings with such force, it’s got you wondering if he’s mad at you and more importantly, if he plans on showing you an mercy as he fucks you. 

The answer was no to both.

The mix of precum and saliva of his cock acted like lube, but it’s not like you needed any with how damp that one spot on your leggings was. 

When Jeno pushes himself inside of you, you let out an even louder moan and he urges you to keep it down. You two were still in the practice room and the song wasn’t repeating to drown out your lewd noises. Your moaning, his grunting and groaning, you two hoped that these noises went unnoticed by anyone walking in the hallway. 

Since you wanted to push your ass back, Jeno would gladly have you doing that with his hand on your hip yet again and the other on your wrist. Your left arm lays flat against the wall and your other hand is down, massaging your own clit. 

“Oh god, this feels so, so fucking good.” Jeno groans as you pant, you pussy squeezing his cock so nicely. 

“Yeah, yeah, so good…” You gasp, “Jeno, Jeno, I’ll cum… soon, Jeno please.”

“Cum, cum, wherever you want.” Jeno tries to maintain the steady pace of his thrusting but he could feel himself nearing his own orgasm. He tries to delay it, but with the force of your squeezing he could only put it off for so long. 

Even after climaxing Jeno doesn’t stop fucking you. His hand moves from your hip to your clit in such a subtle manner, you don’t notice until you feel him push your hand away. The way his fingers circle your most sensitive spot, have you going numb with pleasure against the wall. 

His cum drips out onto your leggings and the practice room floor and finally, he’s got you to cum as you chant his name like a mantra.

As you lean against the wall, Jeno’s own body pressed against your back, you think that this may be a regular occurrence if you keep messing up the choreography. 

You can feel it.

© haechaninmyheart — all rights reserved. reposting or modifying of any work posted on this blog is not allowed (including translations).

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 7 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the fourth year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning helping one another

warnings (TW): swearing, sexual themes (mdni 18+)

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, sexual-situations (in act i), good ol’ protective-stan <3 

notes: me thinks me has big chapter coming up (pt. 8), me thinks i like to do things in fours (the last big chapter was 4). also did anyone notice that my sorry ass had to go back and change some dates/years womp womp but extra points if u didn’t notice my dumbass mistake. 

i think relationships are about being a total hypocrite at times also, like you are constantly trying to fight biases you have over yourself, and also trying to fight for the betterment of your partner also. like im a total hypocrite when it comes to my partner so i think this is another good chapter of what i like to call “flesh” 

that being said i have it sketched out in my journal that next chapter will be… important. hope you all enjoy, and as always love love love all the comments and notes and reblogs! thank you all so much, lots of love <3 (again, masterlist with the other chapters is linked down below!) 

word count: 5.1k

| masterlist | part viii |

“The kids will be gone for a while,” he says, hand slipping warm up her thigh. “How about we pretend it’s 1995, doll?” That slick smirk on his face, glasses drooping on his big hooked nose. 

She laughs. “1995? More like 2012, baby. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve tried to seduce me in the car.” 

He laughs too, hand pushing through his gray curling hair. Shifting in his seat to get closer and share his warmth. His covered thigh was hot against her own. She had laid out short sweatpants for him to put on that lazy Saturday with the kids when he made to walk out the front door in his boxers. Something she found endearing at their older age, the slip of his mind when it came to spending time with the kids. 

It’s darker out, their car the only one in the closed parking lot they had busted into. Mabel had been upset that day, after an altercation with another girl at the mini golf course. Her brother and Stan had almost been more upset for her, and they had rallied behind her in her need for revenge against her blonde foe. She had been upset as well and had a swell of choice words for the little rich girl's parents before Stan pulled her away.

So she had let it slide, the breaking and entering she was currently allowing the kids to do. That and Soos was with them. She trusted him more than he knew. 

They hadn’t been alone in a while, well except for their typical midnight trysts. They had to be more quiet, as of recent though. 

“Feels like a long time,” he hums, bringing his warm palm from her thigh to his cheek. “Come on… we have a bit here.” 

She looks up at him through her lashes, a flush to her face. “I wasn’t protesting.” 

He moves to her like he always does, distracted by the closing space between them. Curling his large palm around her cheek, kissing her like he knows her. 

He’s slick like usual also, smiling against her lips, creeping his hand to move her seat down so he has the high ground between the two of them. Something he loves to do. 

She’s laughing now, lounging back in the reclined seat. When had he reclined his own also?

But she’s pushing at his insistent chest, smiling at his slyness. Flushed below him, his torso hot against her front as his hand made itself comfortable on her cheek again, another on her waist. 

“No funny business Stan, the kids will be back soon and you know it.” 

“No funny business.” He says, pulling back to look at her soft face. His eyes drifting back to her lips once more. There's a breath between them, as they surge back and forth in the connecting space. Breathing heavy in the stretch between their lips, as she tries to chase him forward and he pulls back. His hand caresses her cheek, playing with the hair around the nape of her neck with his pinky. 

“Beautiful.” He whispers between them finally, breaking some spell he’s cast in the space amongst their breaths. It breaks something, when he finally surges forward, meeting her in the middle, at her insistence. 

It’s slow and building and grows hot between them. She tries to focus on many things at once about her lover, how his large hand cups her cheek, and jaw, and neck all at once. How he breathes heavy on top of her, warm against her front, but not against the most intimate part of her. How his lips move, move her, force her open and closed again. How his hand creeps up her waist to the sides of her chest, trailing hot upwards. 

Suddenly it’s not slow anymore, not after the noises she unconsciously makes, and not after his hand trails back to the seem of her shirt to pull it up, his palm warm against her chest now. She’s gasping now, nodding her head at his insistence. He moves instinctually, like how he does every time, but how it feels brand new and different also, when he shoves her bra down, cupping her exposed chest now. How his fingers are slight against the sensitive skin there, it all feels new each time. 

It has her moaning again, mouth open against his to create space, to create noise that bubbles at the base of her throat and sprouts between them. It has him throwing himself forward again, his hand tight against the junction of her jaw now, as he moves her lips and face to meet him again. To move against her again. 

His hand is warm on her front, slipping against her chest, his palm moving to massage her, twirling her bust between his large hot hand. He’s so warm and whole against her, that it has her moving, adjusting along the reclined seat sideways so more of him could be a part of her. Creating space, and area, for him to manipulate as he pleases. And it does please him. 

He’s fast along her lips now, and she does her best to keep up. Her hand gripping his hair, the other digging into the muscle of his broad shoulder, trying to bring him impossibly closer. But he wants to hear more of her, more from her. And he knows how to do it, moving from her mouth to her jaw to her throat, his mouth just as warm as the rest of him. Open mouth, breathy kisses follow in his wake until he makes for the junction of her throat and her shoulder. Kissing there just to hear her react, just to watch her squirm below him. Biting and kissing and lingering by her ear, groaning in her ear as she unknowingly cants into his lap at the tweak of his finger at her chest. 

“You’re so good to me.” His mouth hot over the junction of her throat, his hand heavy on the curve between her jaw and her pulse. “Always so fucking good for me, angel.” 

It serves to always rile her up more when he’s so honest with her like this. Something so simple as the truth has her disregarding her words from before, has her parting her legs and pulling him against the entirety of her as she searches for his lips again. He meets her in the middle of the heat of them, just as taken by her insistence, just as riled up by her enthusiasm for him to this day. 

It has him slightly pulling back though also, swearing as he pulls his button-up off his body. Smirking as he crumples it up to wedge under her hips, to have her pressing up against the heat of his lower body correctly. To ensure he could angle his own hips to meet her where she needed him. 

She’s flushed below him when he glances back up from his handy makeshift substitution for their usual orthopedic pillow. Breathing heavily against the seat of their car, her head almost leaning off the back of the reclined long bench. Her hair haloed around her head as she reached her hands back in front of her to drag him against her again. To feel his weight against her parted legs, her neck already crooked to allow his lips resurgence, her shirt around her chest crumpled from shifting her bra around his large palm. 

A knock. 

It shocks her awake, groggy in her bed, but not on her usual side. 

The wall is cold behind her, but the shoulder she's nestled into is hot beneath her cheek. Stanley slumbering, a slight snore building up in the back of his throat as his chest rises and falls under her hand. 

Right, Stan. 

She had taken to sleeping next to him, some nights. After the appearance of the shocking dream just last October, she continued to have flashes of odd frightful nightmares interspersedly between then and now. It had shocked them both awake several more times in those following months, as she called for him when she was deep within her subconscious. He never protested, never really asked before he would crawl into her bed during those occasions, shuffling her to her spot furthest from the door. 

Now they stuttered each night in the hall, held themselves together in the shadow of each other's doorways before bed. He’d look down at her those nights, at her dark circles and wrinkled pajamas. A question on his tongue every night. A silent ask, if she would need him that night. He would come if she called. 

She could almost sense when one would creep into her mind most nights now, like an instinctual correlation to her overworking herself. So some nights she’d grasp his hands in the shadows in the hallway and drag him to her room. Something he didn’t comment on, the one thing between them he didn’t joke about. 

On other nights they would separate, his lips would linger on her hairline after whispering goodnight to her to leave for his empty room. But those nights seemed far and few in between her need to have him close now, because the dreams were all but fleeting with him close for some reason. She listed off the benefits of co-sleeping somewhere in the back of her head before slipping away most nights, reasoning out her need for him. 

It explained his presence below her now, how she was folded into the junction of his shoulder and his outstretched arm. How her hands had made a home in his warm chest. But it didn’t really explain the dream, one that she had never had of that nature. 

It made something stir in the back of her mind, made her think of his lingering breath now and how it felt so real in the dream, shepherded in the crook of her neck. How he felt on top of her, the way he fell into the junction of her parted legs. How it had her shifting her own legs now, unconsciously trying to get closer to him now. 

She knew he was attractive. There were things endearing about his personality, things that made her think after laughter, and her heart swell when he got close. But he was, physically, quite attractive to her also. The curl of his hair, the smirk of his lips, of course. But also his broad arms, and large palms. The swell of his lower stomach, the patch of hair below his belly button, the parting of his legs when he sat on the couch. It really wasn’t surprising that she had such a dream about him, not surprising at all. She quite… enjoyed it. Which is why she let her hands linger on him even now, creeping up his shirt to rest on the rise of his lower stomach. To seep in some of that warmth, to try to remember the weight of him above her. 

But she had also dreamed of the kids again. 

She tried to keep note of what she could remember of them. Of pink sweaters and braces and smatterings of freckles that looked like constellations. It faded again though, as she rested against his rising chest. Lulled back to sleep by his steady breaths against her.

June, 1986 

He pulled himself from work that day so they could wander around town and inevitably regretted it once they hit Main Street. 

She had found it amusing that they had stumbled into some sort of reenactment of the 1830s, something he had found joy in, his hands drifting from his pockets to her own hands. But something he was now more than a little frustrated by, watching her giggle every time an old-fashioned dressed-up reenactor passed them by, every man tipping their tophats in her general direction. 

It had him almost fuming, honestly. That they could have his Doc’ blushing and giggling at every turn with ease. His hand had drifted again, pulling her closer to his side as they made their way from booth to booth at this god-forsaken Pioneer Day festival. 

She was distracted by homemade candies at their current booth. Calling his attention and dragging him closer to show him the assortment of sweets she wanted to share with him. Until the booth-keep approached them, his goddamn hat tipped at his Doc’. 

“What can I do for ya miss?” The slightly older gentleman asked politely, taking his tall hat off in the presence of her. 

She giggled again, of course. Glancing back at his flushed form, before glancing back at the clerk about to answer. 

“It’s missus, actually, ya schmuck.” He had to open his mouth. Almost like he couldn’t help it, something bubbling below the surface, his fist clenched defensively at his side, the other still balled up around her waist. 

She seemed slightly shocked at his infringement, flushing embarrassed at his side. He didn’t even think of apologizing, especially when she looked like that. 

“Apologies, sir!” The clerk said, glancing between the assumed couple. “Your lady here needs some assistance, yes?” 

“Wife, pal. My wife.” 

Stuttering, waving away Stan’s charged statement, the poor clerk is crimson in front of them in the July heat and under the scrutiny of a man who is on his last leg with the current fair he finds himself at. 

She seizes the moment, turning back to Stan to push his chest back away and out of the stall, throwing a quick apology over her shoulder in their hasty retreating wake. 

It had been absurdly endearing, how annoyed Stan was all day. It wasn’t easy to derail the man, from what she knew of him. So she had reveled in his apparent annoyance all day. Weirdly protective of the space they took up on the walkway through the fair, trying to shield her from the polite tipping of hats which was custom to do, she figured. Something the reenactors did rather flippantly and without thought. But something that had grated at her partner all day, despite that. So stubbly angry at the gesture that no one else but he thought twice about. 

She had let it continue throughout the day though, and had giggled at how his hand had made for her own, and migrated to her waist sometime during the day when he grew more aptly agitated. A protective hand on her, and when she looked back at him, his face was always a grimace. His usual glare directed solely at the men who would greet her on the street. 

The vendor apparently, had been the last straw. After the poor man hadn’t acknowledged Stan’s presence, in favor of helping and doting on her. Probably a good sales tactic, something Stan knew about also, but something he was blinded by in the moment. Annoyed at being ignored despite bearing down at anyone from her shadow along her back. 

They had enough for today though, she thought, pulling him farther down the street back to the parking lot at the end of Main Street, so they could find their car and head home. She doubted he would want to come back to the yearly Pioneer Days, but she’d try to drag him back each coming year. Reveling at his protective hold, giggling at his flushed face as he declared her as his to everyone who would listen. 

November, 1986

She found him up late, in his office that night. 

He had made a space in a random room on the first floor, close to the kitchen. One of those rooms they had both disregarded and initially put the swell of Ford’s belongings in.

But she had helped him clean it back out a couple of years ago when he opened their home turned tourist trap. Helped anyway he would allow, actually, which was more or less going through old research papers piled high and picking out a nice desk from the flea market to situate in front of the south-facing window. He had moved around just about everything else. 

The walls were still bare in his office, and he had filled the room with some of his old knick-knacks and newspaper clippings he had a tendency of keeping from the comics and punchline sections of the local paper. The ones that made her laugh. That and odd stacks of magazines from jewelers he liked. 

He had been unable to help her downstairs that day, something she did not begrudge him of, especially seeing him now bent over his desk, with his hands catching in his hair. She had called him for dinner, but when he didn’t answer or come within ten minutes she found herself wandering to his office with their dinner in hand. His office door was wide open, as it always was when it was just the two of them. She knocked despite this. 

“Stan?” She asks, balancing steaming plates of food in both hands. “Do you need help with anything?” 

“No, hun.” His head shot up, a smile blooming on his face, but his eyes were weary still from squinting at money margins for the last couple of hours. 

She makes her way closer, plopping his plate right in front of him on the desk, disregarding the odd papers he had spread out all over its surface. She leans herself on the desk, holding her own plate up so she could simply eat where she stood.

“Doesn’t look like it.” She says, pitching her head back to the mess on his desk. 

He’s almost too worked up to eat, not that he’d let her know that. He’d been wrangling around money all day, trying to equate the sum of the last couple of months’ tours into this month's mortgage payment. Something he struggled with last season also, but something he’d gotten worse at hiding from her despite his best efforts. She overworked herself enough as is, he didn’t want this on her plate alongside everything else. 

She did her best to handle the mess he had made downstairs, and he did his best to take care of her. Because she deserved that, after all she’s done for him. Given him four years, put up with his bullshit for four years after his four-second mistake of pushing his brother into another dimension. 

But looking up at her now, watching the darkness from the fall season outside seep in through the window. How she tilted her head down, leaned onto his desk, and basically plopped on top of the hardwood she had picked out herself. She made no indication of regret, in all four years.

Still, something tugs at him, he wanted to be the one to provide in this aspect. Something deep, once hallow in him, something his father had tried to teach him in his old ways. About how to take care of your wife, about how he needed to provide. 

But they were standing in a shell of a house, one that he could not even logically claim as his own. And he wanted to give her more. To celebrate during the holidays without pinching pennies, to give her gifts during these colder winter months, like he remembers his father doing for his mother. To get her those new throw blankets she eyes up at the craft store, to get her that new red pot she says reminds her of her grandmother. It made him feel more like a failure, set something deep in him, that he couldn’t give her some of those things while she so willingly gave him four years.

She wouldn’t relent though, because as determined as he was to take care of her in this semblance, she was just as eager to do the same for him. Something that always made him lean into her, had his hand finding hers instinctually nowadays. Something that no one has done for him since Ford, someone having his back. 

So he tells her anyway because she's smart. Knowing to lean up on his desk like that and bring him food to ply him from his leather desk chair and make him concede in his problems. Something all-knowing about her like usual, something perhaps ingrained in her. 

He leans forward, scooping up food to shovel into his mouth. Maybe he was hungry after all. “I’m having some trouble balancing some books.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Means I’m short.” Fisting some of his hair in his fist, mumbling around his food. “Holiday season, I’m always strapped for cash.” 

She hums, a fold forming in the ridge of her brows. She takes a moment, leaning farther into his desk, dinner half gone on her plate already. “You?” 

“What?” 

“You, Stan?” She sighs, suddenly looking tired in front of him. Frustrated with something, at the very least.  

He shrugs at her, turning away from her suddenly harsh gaze. But she won’t let him turn from her anymore. She finishes her dinner, discarding her plate farther away on the corner of his desk, reaching over his papers and piles to switch on the shaded desk lamp they also scrounged for. 

She sighs again, situating herself completely in front of him now. Leaning back against his desk again, basically sitting on the papers and books that were causing him strife not even ten minutes ago. His dinner is half cold on his plate now, situated on his own lap as he slumps back in his chair. His eyes move back to her instinctually now that she’s in front of him. The lamp light shining on her frustrated visage. 

“Stan.” She humphs, leaning forward, crowding him into his chair. “You? Just you?” 

Realizing his mistake, his shepherding of problems, continuing to shield them as his own despite him internally admitting he should at least voice them aloud. 

But it’s hard to admit defeat in this aspect, hard to concede control over something she thought so flippantly of as money. It was deeper than that, deeper than the mortgage of course. It was something he had left home in search of, something he still grasped for, and something he had buried asking for help with when he was merely eighteen years old.

His desires had somehow changed and shifted though. The warped image he had of his father, how it had become distorted in the face of his new desires. Desires that looked more and more like her these days. And it was just something he wouldn’t admit defeat to, couldn’t admit defeat. Because then what good was he to her? 

So he stands behind his own stupid idea of self-actualization. Despite it being weak in the shadow of her frustration. “Yes… just me.” 

“No.” 

“No?” He scoffs. “Yes. Just me, only me.” 

“Since when.” 

“Since this was all my fault.” He says, his own frustration pulling him up in his chair. Food forgotten and pushed aside on his desk in favor of getting closer to her. Never yelling, always explaining. And he wouldn’t and couldn’t yell if he was sitting ramrod straight in front of her. He didn’t have it in him, had no desire to watch her crumble like that. “This whole thing, all of it.” Waving his hands around, trying to emphasize the large capacity of the bullshit he had walked them both into. 

She shakes her head. “No, Stan.” He’s unbelievable at his worst, and charming at his best. But his unbelievable was becoming more mounting with every year. And some convoluted part of her mind had reasoned that it actually all hinged on her now. Thinking of that crumpled paper, and that coded string of words Stanford had left her. How he had been right about her all along, how she hadn’t even been smart enough to drag him out of his own hubris. 

“Don’t say it’s fucking yours.” He scoffs, leaning more into her. Placing his hands on her warm thigh, trying to ground her in her thoughts. 

“But it is. It’s my fault.” Choking around what she had believed to be true for the past four years. “I’m not smart enough to bring him back.” 

He surges in his seat, standing in front of her now. Shaking his head as he reaches for her. Folding her in his arms like he always does, her head balanced in the crook of his neck, humming along to soothe her like always. “That’s the farthest thing from true.” 

“But he’d be back! He s-should be back by now…” Voicing her frustration, it echoed around his chest to his ear. She’s warm in her frustration, her hands curling not around him, but up him. Finding the crook in his chest to rest them in. “And you wouldn’t be so stressed… you wouldn’t have to worry about the mortgage if he was here. We wouldn’t have to be here, it’s my f-fault he’s not here yet. It’s why I’ve been down there so often. W-why I hate when you say that.” 

She had confided herself to the basement almost indefinitely since their second year of cohabitation. More recently, it had kept her up routinely at night. First, it would drag her from her sleep, had her wandering down steep steps in the dark of the night in only her pajamas. Now it followed her into her dreams, seeping into her mind, taunting her of a far-off future she could only conjure up in her sleep. One where she succeeded. One where Stan still stood steady by her side, a gold band on his finger. It made her sick, and she knew she had been troubled by all of it for over a year now. 

He had known reasonably, that the reason for her lingering in the dark basement was for some sort of self-validation, something he could never fault her for. But he could fault himself for not dragging her into the light more often, for not being more worried about her pailing complexion and her dark-set eyes. It did worry him, it tugged him from doorway to doorway at night, made him more vigilante in the dark. But he had been so twisted in worrying about providing as of recent, he had forgotten the object of his adoration was weathering away under the weight of her own self-destruction. 

It was hard to let go of that part of his control, of what he felt was his own duty. But he knew there suddenly, looking down at her dark circles, and the way she curled up, looking so small against his chest. Knew that they’d both have to set aside some ingrained biases because in the end, they were both hypocrites. And he didn’t want her to become a mirror image of him in her grief. 

So he sighs, letting his warm hands cradle the back of her. Letting them run through her hair, letting him continue to hum. “I don’t want you to say that ever again because it ain’t true.” 

She sniffs, still goo in his hands. “You too.” She hiccups. 

He won't ever voice it to her again, he swears somewhere in the back of his mind. But it’ll linger for years, the fault in him. “Okay.”

Another beat, another adjustment from her before he voices anything again. “We both gotta help each other.” 

She nods against him, suddenly looking up at him with a weird amusement in her eyes. “Go team, remember?” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, hun. Go team.” 

She hums, finally pulling away from him and taking her warmth with her. Still folded up in front of him, her hands still in that space along his chest. Fisted in his shirt, wrinkled under her grief. 

“I can help with the money.” She says, a smile beginning to grow on her face. 

“And I can help with the portal.” He nods, his hands finding her shoulders, cupping up towards her neck. 

They congregated on the couch that night, discussing a new schedule between them. Something that would hopefully piece her back together, maybe not back to what she was all those years ago bursting in through the front door. She wasn’t herself then either, he reasoned. And it struck him then, with her curled in on the couch, still folded into the junction of his arm, her fingers tracing his palm as she finally breathed even against him. 

She looks most endearing, most like some glimpse of herself, someone he doesn’t quite know yet when she’s kneeled down talking to those kids on their back-lit porch. Halloween had come and gone again and it struck him, like it does every June and October. 

It twists into an idea in his mind, flips his stomach at the idea. Leaks into visions of her in front of the chalkboard downstairs, how she spoke of complex things in fragments for him to digest. How she paces around her chalkboard, spinning new ideas for him to consume. It came easy to her, teaching him, and he had the thought that she just might be the best he’d ever met in all his years. 

“What about teaching?” He hums, twirling his fingers around for her to continue to play with. 

She hums. “I’d be gone a lot of the day.” 

“And I’d miss ya.” He concedes. “But you need this.” He admits, leaning his chin on her head. She needed to get away from the portal, distance herself, and find a bit of life outside of what he had tied her into. 

“And you.” She glances up at him, a smile on her lips finally. Her breath warm against him. And he did, he’d admit. He needed her help with it all. But only if in doing so it helped her, too. Because he'd concede the weight of what he called duty if it shook that warped image of his father. He wanted to prove himself to her, only.

[tmr-simp77397]

galentine’s day - r.c. ❥

summary: while your planning a galentines get together with your friends, rafe overhears and decides otherwise..

warnings: smut!! 18+ fem!reader, sub!reader, switch!rafe, creampie, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, innocent-ish!reader, aggressive!rafe, making out, degrading, praise, fingering, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YALL TAP IT), nicknames, and i think that’s it!

a/n: hiii i’m back!! i got this idea to write this story mid class today and just decided why not i need to get my thoughts out and actually write. hope u guys like it ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

rafe was at your house on this gloomy saturday afternoon since your parents were gone for the weekend on business. you were sitting on your bed watching tiktoks, the netflix show that had been put on hours ago was since ignored, and rafe had been downstairs getting snacks for a couple minutes. as you were watching a video about the 10 year olds storming sephora, you got a call from sarah.

you pick up and speak into the phone “hey sarah! what’s up?” you say with a smile even though you know she doesn’t see you.

“heyyy y/n, you busy tonight?” sarah questioned.

“i mean, no not tonight. i’ve just been with rafe all day” you pause, “other than that i’m free tonight, why?”

sarah squeals, “me and the girls were thinking to have a little galentines party at kat’s house! what do you think? it’s gonna be around 7 so you definitely have time to get ready.”

you glance over at the clock, 5:14PM. you were going to spend the whole day with your boyfriend, but one girls night can’t hurt, right??

as you were about to respond, rafe walked into your room with some of your favorite snacks. he sat back onto the bed and rested his hand on your thigh while saying “what does sarah want, whatever she said tell her no.”

“sarah ill text you” you say into the phone as you hang up. “sarah invited me to kat’s house tonight for a galentines party”

“the fuck is a galentines” rafe chuckles

you roll your eyes “it’s a valentine’s day party for girls who are single and still want to have fun on valentine’s day”

“mmm, as of 4 months ago though you are not single— if i’m correct.” rafe said sarcastically.

you smirk and sit up “i know that. and my boyfriend is funny, and veryyyyy sexy for your information”

“i’d like to meet him one day, seems like a handsome guy” rafe cooed.

there was an intense silence for about a minute as you two both looked in each others eyes, rafes pupils dilating making his green eyes get full by the black orb.

“rafe are you okay” you say practically whispering looking up at him through your eyelashes.

rafe doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds, letting his eyes wander your body and face, landing on your plush pink lips. out of nowhere, he grabs your neck and roughly places his lips on yours practically attacking your face. you gasped from the sudden reaction allowing him to shove his tongue into your mouth. “mmmh” you moaned, getting onto rafes lap to have a better angle kissing him. you started to move your hips against his lap, not noticing what you were doing still being dumbfounded by him kissing you not too long ago.

rafe pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips together. as you were about to complain, rafe spoke up “fuck princess, i’m so hard”

you licked your lips excitedly and say, “i could help you rafey” while taking off your tank top in the process.

“no y/n” he said. “tonight, it’s gonna be all about you. get undressed.”

you look at him shocked. you had to be at sarah’s party soon!! but, you could never pass up sex with your boyfriend. and in this moment, neither could he.

“i fucking said get undressed, now” rafe said, almost shouting.

while that did startle you, you started to unclasp your bra, and take off your shorts along with your panties. after, you laid flat on the bed, your elbows propping you up.

rafe smirked, he loved when you obeyed him. he started kissing your collarbone sucking marks that will definitely show the next day, making his way down to your boobs. his hand made its way to one of your boobs, needing it with his hand, and moved to your other boob swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“mhmmm- fuck rafe, feels so good” you moaned

as rafe was swirling his tongue around your nipple, he suddenly stopped pulling off with a pop.

“rafey, why’d you stop” you whined. you didn’t get a response until you felt his hard on pressing into your thigh which made you gasp.

an amused smile played at rafes lips, “see what you do to me sweetheart” he said lowly “i’m going to fucking ruin you.”

that sentence alone almost made you cum. anytime rafe dominated you made you feel like mush under his touch. and this was one of those moments.

as rafe stayed on top of you, he took off his shirt to reveal his toned abs that were glistening with sweat beads. your eyes trailed down to his happy trail, wanting more.

“tsk tsk, not yet sweetheart” he cooed.

you whined, starting to get impatient. when suddenly, you felt rafes fingers plunging into you knuckle deep.

“mmh rafe please” you screamed

“doesn’t that feel good, baby?”

“fuck, y-yes rafe, feels so- so good”

rafe hummed in appreciation, thrusting his fingers at a faster pace and adding another one. you gasped loudly, head falling back onto the pillows as your hands flew to rafes buzzed head, scratching it lightly.

a few soft moans fell from your lips and rafe swore he was in heaven. you sounded so beautiful, even in this position. you were going to be the death of him.

“f-fuck rafe im- im close” you say as you clenched onto his fingers, the pleasure feeling almost too good.

as soon as rafe felt you clench on his fingers, he pulled out. he couldn’t help but stare at your face. hair clinging to your face from sweat, lips all puffy, you looked somewhat innocent but so dirty at the same time.

as soon as you opened your mouth to protest, rafe brought his head down to your puffy clit and started to swirl his tongue around it, “you taste so fucking good sweetheart” he said muffled.

and without warning, you came all over his tongue. being overstimulated from not being able to finish earlier including this made the knot in your stomach snap sooner than you thought.

once rafe felt you cum, he lifted his head up from your pussy and started to unzip his pants. you, however were still in a trance from your orgasm so you didn’t really hear him.

rafe threw his pants to the floor and pulled down his boxers, cock springing up hitting his lower abdomen, tip glistening with pre. he started to jerk himself off a bit before going into you.

you got snapped out of your trance when you felt something against your sensitive pussy from your previous orgasm and started to whimper and close your tired legs.

rafe saw this and immediately pushed your legs back apart, holding them in place with his strong hands.

“what a slut, cumming without my permission and now you think i’m not going to fuck some sense into you huh?”

you whined “rafe please no more.”

rafe chuckled to himself, “your gonna take it weather you like it or not baby. should have came with permission before.”

right after he said that, he shoved his fat cock inside of you making you gasp. you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times you’ve had sex before.

“fuck, princess so tight.“ he complained

you let out a near pornographic moan and arched your back while bringing your hands to rafes back and scratching lightly, “feels—fuck—feels so good”

“say it princess” rafe demanded, “say it slut, say i’m the only one who can make you feel this good”

you couldn’t form any words cause of how cock drunk you were, and rafe knew that, so he teased you.

he brought his right hand up to snake around your throat with a tight grip.

“fucking say it” he spat

you started scratching his back harder signaling to stop. he loosened his grip, thrusts still consistent, and let you speak.

“your- your the, fuck- your the only o-one that could make feel th-this good” you stuttered, hoping he would take his hand off your throat.

“now that was easy right princess” rafe smirked with a look of evil in his eyes. it scared you seeing him like this, but you liked it at the same time.

the sound of skin slapping was the only thing in the room that could be heard. other than your moans and rafes groans. you felt the knot in your belly almost breaking, signaling you were close.

“r-rafe” you managed to choke out, “i’m close”

he shook his head “when sluts like you break the rules, you only get to cum when i say so”

you whined. you couldn’t hold it in for any longer; but you had to or else you know you would get punished.

rafe felt you clenching and groaned, “fuck your so sexy”

a red tint spread across your cheeks as rafe started rubbing your clit in a figure 8 motion. it took everything in you to not let go right there. but, you held it in.

as you felt his dick twitching inside of you, you knew he was close.

“fuck ‘m not gonna last longer with you squeezing me like that baby” rafe groaned, “you can- fuck- you can cum now angel, let go. i’m right behind you.”

as soon as you heard those words you let go, you squeezed him tightly, your cum squirting out of you.

“gonna fill you up baby. gonna give you my babies” rafe said as he also let go as he came inside of you, moaning loudly.

as you were in a cloudy state, you could feel ropes of rafes cum coat your walls, making you whine.

you felt his thrusts get sloppy, his hips stuttering as his dick twitched inside of you.

he let his head dip down to the crook of your neck and started giving sloppy wet kisses.

“your mine baby. all mine. did so good for me today”

you smiled softly, eyes drooping as tiredness takes you over.

rafe glanced at the clock on your nightstand, 6:18PM.

“now baby, your gonna go to that party with my cum dripping down your legs, got it?”

hi baby’s, i feel like this was a bit rushed so let me know what you think ❦ i also haven’t written in a while, so i hope you think it’s good :)

taglist: @annaherling444 @purswaterfall my baby’s i love u

[kiztae]

hi! if ur not too busy do u think u could come up with something for size kink w soobin? pls & thank you ! 💛

SIZE KINK — c.soobin

genre: afab!reader, very suggestive, brothers bestfriend!soobin, bulge kink, size kink (duh), making out, dry humping, dirty talk? that's probably it. wc: 1.8k [requested]

a/n: might be a bit short. hope you enjoy anon!

just like any other saturday, soobin came over to visit your older brother beomgyu and spend the rest of it playing games in his room. it wasn't new to find soobin in the living room, sitting in the couch and scrolling through his phone mindlessly.

it was only natural, considering he almost lived there with you guys with how often he’d come by. so when you crossed his path, you didn't really mind it and conformed to uttering a soft 'hi soobin' before stepping into the kitchen.

"hi y/n" he looks up with a raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgment, shutting off his phone and standing up slightly to move towards the kitchen island. "how's today treating you?" he inquires with a playful smile as he leans over the counter with his elbows.

“it’s treating me fine, soobin. what about you?” you say between yawns while pouring yourself a glass of water.

you had just woken up a few minutes ago, whenever it was sunday you allowed yourself to sleep in as much as you’d like. which is why you were currently standing in the kitchen, wearing your small pajama shorts and a loose t-shirt you found in your brothers room, at noon.

“so far, so good. but i have to say, it’s even better now that you’re here.” he adds boldly, looking down at the marble and then back up at you.

you could see his eyes glimmer mischievously as he ended his sentence, the two orbs dropping lower and trailing down your exposed collarbones, your chest that was exposing just about enough cleavage to help his imagination, and finally, your hands. everything about you looked so dainty and small, soobin couldn’t help but think about how adorable and weirdly hot he found it.

hell, he knew it was wrong to think about his best friend's little sister under this lewd light but it was just so hard not to.

“you really have a way with words don’t you? save them for the girls on your campus.” you grin in response, emptying the glass of cold water in your mouth and feeling the new energy flowing through your body.

if you had to be honest, it’s not like you hadn’t thought about soobin like that before. you were aware of how attractive he was and especially how close to your ideal type he proved to be. soobin was tall, handsome and a literal giant in proportions but also adorable and cute at times.

nevertheless, you pushed those thoughts away quickly whenever you remembered who he was to you. he was your brother’s best friend, he was older than you, he had many other things he could care about other than you… so why bother?

sure, it wouldn't be awful to have some fun with him, especially after not having any form of sexual activity in the past months (not even a kiss), but you were sure it was all not going to happen anyway. so, you tried your best to stay unfazed by his comments and approaches, figuring he was just teasing you.

“i’m not sweet talking you y/n. i’m—“ before he could continue, beomgyu walked into the room with a loud “you can use the shower now!”, signaling that you could start your morning routine and that he could get back to hanging out with his best friend.

“what are you doing here? you could’ve waited in my room man.” he says with an awkward laugh as he taps his friend’s back.

“well, see you around.” you bid your goodbye and go off to continue with your day, not bothering to finish the earlier conversation.

-

why was getting up suddenly so hard? some sort of heavy weight was placed on top of you, not letting you move up or even around in the room of your mattress. this was not like any other sunday morning. were you still dreaming? after squirming in place for a little more you opened your eyes slowly and looked around despite the hazy vision of your only recent wake up call.

moving around (if you could even call it that) helped you figure out two things: 1. whatever it was that was stopping you was laying half on top of you and pressing your side 2. it was breathing. as soon as you realized the second, you started kicking your feet up and turning around in a hurry like crazy.

"woah—! what the—!" the lump under the other blanket started to blurt out in panic, until it moved up and revealed itself. that's when you were met with a confused soobin with the biggest case of bed hair you've seen.

before you could process it, he swiftly took your wrists into his hands and pushed them against the mattress effortlessly, shifting completely on top of you to keep your legs caged between both of his on your sides with ease. finally, if he got kicked once more he was sure he would get bruises.

"hey—!" you shout against his defense before his right palm comes up to cover your mouth clumsily. it was ridiculous how much of your face his hand covered then, all of your jaw and part of your neck being hidden behind it.

"shhh. don't you realize it's super early in the morning?" he whisper-shouts back, frowning and staring into your eyes, finally.

you relaxed and twisted your head around to take in the room, noticing that it was indeed still dark and that the sunset hadn't even happened yet. once you took it in, you took in the sight of soobin, at last. he was breathing loudly, his hair messy, his shirt hanging low on his chest and his eyes waving around as he looked into yours.

"why are you in my bed?" you murmur with a confused frown once he removed his hand, your breathing starting to speed up when you realize the position you're in right now. god, you hoped he was still sleepy enough to not notice the pink blooming in your cheeks.

"i— i don't know. i thought i went into beomgyu's room after i woke up to drink some water... but i guess not." he trails off, his eyes dipping lower from your eyes to your neck, your disheveled hair, your shirt that bunched up and exposed your waist, until he came back up to stare at your mouth for longer.

"i guess not..." you imitate quietly when your gaze also lays on his pouty lips and then back to his eyes.

"i'm sorry y/n" he states in a more deep voice, his tone sounding hushed as he leaned in closer to you, the hand holding your wrist pushing further up and the other dipping the mattress on your side.

"huh? for what?" you mutter out in surprisement at the sudden apology, your voice breaking softly once you feel him get closer.

"for not holding myself back." he whispers back, his hand interlacing with yours and pinning it deeper into the sheets as he catches your breath in a swift kiss. the action earned a small gasp from you, your form stiffening under his hold briefly, unsure of what was happening, until you sighed into his mouth and leaned in.

he softly groaned in satisfaction once he felt you relax and open your mouth more for him, granting him permission to kiss you deeper. "i'm such a shit best friend aren't i? i just couldn't hold it in anymore." he comments as he leaves your lips for a second, the loss of contact already making you disappointed.

but he doesn't stop. his free hand grazes your side softly and grasps your waist roughly, another gasp coming from you that's quickly swallowed by soobin's lips on yours. his kisses are desperate, hungry even. it's like he doesn't want to waste a single second when he's kissing you.

his tongue dips into your bottom lip and then brushes against yours, the wet sound of it starting to get more noticeable as his mouth melts with yours. you weren't sure you expected soobin to get messy like this, saliva mixing with yours, kisses sloppy and needy, you were loving it.

soobin was heavy on top of you, he was making sure he didn't lay his whole body weight, knowing for sure he would crush you, but he was letting himself press against you just enough for you to be trapped below him. if he wanted to, he could do anything he wanted to you, easily. he could make you his personal ragdoll, move you around however he wanted, take you however he wanted.

as his mouth detached from yours to dip lower and start biting and nipping at your neck, the hand on your waist trailed up and stopped right before your breast. "can i? please.." he says in a hushed voice as he licks a small stripe on the bites he left, his breathing ragged already. following your nod he takes your breast in his hand, his grasp being enough to cover it whole. once he gets permission his hands start roaming around your body more and more, grabbing whatever he can. his palms kneading your ass, then playing with your nipples, grasping your hip tightly as he groans into your mouth between kisses.

"you're so small— i could break you if i'm too rough, couldn't i?" he purrs into your ear, biting your earlobe gently and grinning. he didn't know what got into him but seeing you so weak and helpless in his hold was driving him crazy, he never knew he was so big until now.

"you're just— too big." the whiny tone in your voice as you replied was what did it for him. how could you say that to him and expect him not to go insane?

"fuck, don't do that to me." he blurts out as he lets his head fall on your chest, his hands tightening around your hips. "i won't be able to stop." he warns before his fingers dig into your sides and he pushes himself against you, his giant bulge rubbing on your underwear harshly.

"oh my god— soobin, you're huge" you moan out as the shocks of pleasure hit you, your hips instantly jolting forwards to meet his. at this, he starts thrusting his hips harder and faster against you, rocking the bed carelessly.

"yeah? bet that if i fucked you, you'd have a bulge right here. wouldn't you baby?" he questions while rubbing your tummy right above where his dick was pushing into you. "i'd fuck you so deep, you'd feel it in your stomach." he adds with a smirk, looking right into your eyes as if to taunt you. he never once stopped rocking his hips against you, the tip of his cock starting to leak through his boxers and onto your panties, hitting you right with each thrust.

"then do it." you plead in between whines, taking his cheek in your hand and staring into his eyes desperately. "fuck me until you break me."

-

© kiztae, 2023

[weird-is-life]

if ur still taking requests, may i humbly ask for a very fluffy Steve Harrington x shy reader period imagine? maybe the reader is really in pain but is too shy to ask for help? and gets embarrassed but Steve is just an angel about it?

Hii, lovely🥰 thank you for this cute request, hope u like it! Warnings: mentions of food, period pain, pet names, fluff, (0.7k)

Steve isn't really thinking of what you might be doing this late Saturday night as he knocks on your door. He is so eager to see you.

You weren't supposed to be together today, because Steve had to work, and you said you didn't feel good. That you were ill.

Steve, the sweetheart he is, wanted to surprise you, and he also got you some stuff to make you feel better. Like a good soup that he absolutely thinks you're gonna love, some sweets, vitamins and so on.

He waits not so patiently for you to open the door, and for some reason it takes you a lot longer than it usually does.

You open the doors, and your eyes go wide, "Steve! Wh-What are you doing here?"

Steve just chuckles at you baffled expression," I wanted to surprise you, honey."

"Oh," you say, not particularly happy about that fact. Steve doesn't seem to notice it or maybe he just doesn't want to notice it.

"Exactly oh," he chuckles. Steve thinks you're going to open the door wider, so he can go inside, but you don't, "aren't you gonna let me in, sweetheart?"

"Stevie, I'm...I don't feel well," you shyly admit, still only peeking at him from behind the door. It looks like you are definitely not going to let him in.

"I know," he tells you softly," that's why I'm here. I came to take care of you. I brought a few movies as well, we can have a movie marathon. Before you say anything i want to state that I don't mind getting sick and....-"

"Steve," you interrupt his rambling. You look at him with pleading and shy eyes. "I'm not sick in-in that way. It's just....It's....I-"

You can't bring yourself to say it to him. Your shyness getting the best of you. You love Steve, but you are just too shy to admit that you're in pain, and that you'd love nothing more than for him to just hold you while you watch the movies.

"What is it?" Steve concerns. He pretty much ignores that you didn't want to open the wider, and comes inside, so he can instantly find out what's wrong.

"It's my....," you take a deep breath in, and tell him as your cheeks go red, "period pain."

Steve isn't expecting you to say that, but honestly he doesn't care that you are on your period. He only cares that you are in pain, and he wants to change that.

Steve gives you a bear hug," have you been in pain the whole day, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you admit into his chest. You bury your whole face into his soft hoodie, enjoying the comfort and the warmth seeping from him.

"You could have called me earlier. I would have gladly come to take care of you, you know?" Steve kisses your temple.

"Didn't want to bother you," you murmur sheepishly. Cheeks even more red. You suddenly get a pretty bad period pain, wincing lightly.

Steve immediately pulls you away from his chest with sorry eyes," How about you go back to the couch while I heat up the soup I've brought you?"

"You've brought me soup?" You question.

"Of course, I have. I bet you haven't eaten much today, so go lay down, and I'll be right back." Steve gives you one more kiss on your cheek before he dissappears in your kitchen.

Steve comes back a few minutes later with the soup, and your forgotten heating pad you'd left in the kitchen. Because Steve came right at that moment as you were about to heat it back up.

"Here, sweetheart," he puts the soup on the coffee table," can you sit up for me?"

You sit up from your too comfy position on the couch, but your stomach rumbles at the sight of the soup. Steve carefully puts the heating pad over your lower tummy, and it's immediate relief.

"Thanks, Stevie," you smile brightly at him despite your pain.

Steve smiles back at you, and leans in to kiss your cheek again. You can't say that you aren't loving being doted on like this by him.

He always loves on you, but right now it's maybe just a tiny bit more than it is usually.

"Come on, eat your soup, and then you can have the cuddles and the movies I promised you." You eat as quickly as you can, eager to be in Steve's hands.

When you finally get the so much needed cuddle, the pain eases pretty much away just by Steve's gentle stroking over your side and tummy. And definitely from the constant pecks all over your face.

[its-time-to-write]

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other. 

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training. 

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore. 

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock. 

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening. 

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds. 

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows. 

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast! 

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now. 

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type. 

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first. 

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad. 

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table. 

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks. 

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold. 

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can. 

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner. 

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie. 

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them. 

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping. 

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away. 

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

— 

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight. 

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked. 

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too. 

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea. 

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission. 

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying. 

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter. 

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!” 

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller. 

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?” 

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine. 

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt. 

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening. 

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close. 

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply. 

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours. 

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other. 

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively. 

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other. 

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning. 

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back. 

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy. 

“You know what that means,” you say. 

“Sex,” he replies immediately. 

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm. 

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies. 

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say. 

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

[miaoua3]

hi^^ can u req for a joshua fic where in bf!shua took gf!reader to a date to celebrate the eldest daughter day, and made her feel like a teenager again — amusement park date, matchy headbands, sharing cotton candy, shopping galore after (which she didnt really got to do stuffs bec she busy with her ‘eldest daughter’ duties ykeim 🥺). just joshua making her feel like she deserves this treat too. thank you!

(sorry english isnt my first language 😭)

heyy! (first of, your english is perfect sweetie, have more trust in yourself❤️), and sure you can- i love writing fluff with our joshua, he’s just so sweet that he makes it impossible to not want to write the fluffiest things with him☹️anyway, i hope you enjoy this and that you take it easy! love you

Care For You

Pairing: joshua x f!reader

Genre: fluff, comfort (no hurt), amusement park date, healing your inner child, joshua best bf ever, mentions of bad relationships with your parents

Description: after noticing that you had a hard week (as well as hard life in general), joshua decides that the amusement park date is long overdue for the two of you❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

joshua has always been very observant of the people he holds and loves dearly. even the things they themselves wouldn’t notice, he does. it’s always been in his nature to give out comfort to those around him who have hard time.

so after he noticed you move a bit slower, talk a little less, your dark circles get a bit darker, your work keeping you up a little bit longer than usual, getting easily annoyed at little inconveniences, he knew what kind of week you were having and how much pressure you’ve been putting on yourself.

you were always a little bit of an overachiever-nothing you ever did seemed enough for you. you have always been like this, ever since he had first met you.

joshua, based on the few things and stories you told him, knew that these issues and habits stemmed from your early childhood and they continued well into your adulthood. being the oldest daughter, who always had to act perfectly and accordingly, who your parents always had to count on not to disappoint them, who had to be this perfect image of a daughter for your younger siblings to have to look up to, who had to, in a way, raise them yourself, certainly seemed troubling to joshua.

joshua’s heart always ached whenever he saw how unkind and cruel both you yourself and your family were towards you.

especially when he saw just how good, hardworking, and kind you were to everyone around you.

he always wished he could somehow help you. to see how kind and loving you were. to make you see how proud of you everyone was, and how highly they thought of you. to heal what he never even broke.

so, that’s why, on the saturday night, as you came home from yet another excruciatingly exhausting day at work, you were bombarded with his gentle smiles, hugs and kisses, as well as a dinner that he prepared for you.

you knew your boyfriend well enough to see that this was just a setup for something bigger.

so you weren’t even surprised to have him wake you up the next morning at 6am (on your only free day).

this better be good, you thought as you looked at him through blurry eyes.

joshua, who was already dressed, was sitting on the bed beside you, his big hand gently patting your head.

smiling gently at you, he then spoke “hey baby, sorry to wake you up but we have somewhere to be, get up so you can get ready”, he pauses to kiss your forehead before continuing “the breakfast is ready and on the table. cmon now”.

no matter how unhappy you felt about being woken up so early, you were ready to hit the road (wherever it may lead you to) an hour later, still a bit sleepy but also excited for the new adventure that your darling boyfriend was taking you on.

holding his hand while he was driving, you find yourself feeling at peace for the first time in more than a week-as a matter of fact, so at peace that you felt yourself slowly drifting off to sleep again.

just as you were about to drift off to the dreamland, you felt his fingers slowly let go of your hand to instead caress your cheek carefully and gently, as his whisper reached your ear.

“sweet dreams, my sweet girl.”

the next time you woke up, it was hours later and the car wasn’t moving anymore, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

you tried to look for any signs as to where you might be (or where your boyfriend might be for that matter), but just then joshua opened the door to the driver’s side and got in.

seeing that you were awake now, he immediately smiled. “hey sleepyhead, just in time”, he said as he stretched across the middle section to give you a brief peck on your lips.

you, still kind of clueless and disoriented, just ask him “…in time for what?”.

joshua, finding you absolutely adorable, just smiles as he responds “you will see in a little bit. but first- breakfast.”, and then he’s getting out of the car and to your side to open your door for you.

five minutes later, you find yourselves in front of a cafe. but not just any cafe.

you find yourself in front of a cat cafe.

something you have always dreamed of visiting since you were a little.

you, slowly and with hopeful eyes, turn to joshua and with a trembling voice ask him “really?”.

joshua, fighting the urge to puke from happiness and summon all of the gods possible just to high five them for letting him make you this happy, gently smiles as he tucks a bit of stray hair behind your ear. “really.”

that’s all you needed to hear to quickly jump and hug him tightly for a little second before grabbing his hand to drag him inside.

trusting joshua to order something for you that you will like, you immediately sit down on the floor and let yourself be surrounded by all the possible cats there are, cooing at them as they rub themselves against you and climb all over you.

you were a bit busy by giving all the cuddles to the cute, beige and fluffy cat in your lap to notice how adoringly joshua was looking at you, as well as him snapping a few pictures to have this day be remembered by.

after half an hour of you just being preoccupied with the cats, joshua finally called you to eat because your hot chocolate was slowly getting colder to the point it would be undrinkable.

after an hour of you eating (and cuddling with cats some more), you find yourself in the car again. joshua, still refusing to tell you where you were going to, was only smiling excitedly as he was driving.

whatever it is that he’s taking me to, it must he good you think to yourself as you watch his excitement bounce off of the roof of the car.

and as you stood in front of a huge amusement park, you understood his smug and excited smiles.

because this was better than good for you.

this was something you have always dreamt of doing, but were never allowed to do while growing up due to your parents deeming it “a waste of everybody’s time”.

joshua just looks at you-to see how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. he was so excited to have done this for you, he has been looking forward to seeing your reaction since he thought of the idea.

ever so slowly, you turn your had towards joshua, your eyes big and glossy, looking at him as if they were saying “is this for real? im not dreaming?”.

joshua, with a proud but humble smile, just says “surprise”.

in one moment he’s looking at you, smiling at you.

in the next he’s trying to keep you both standing, tumbling a little bit due to you jumping onto him, your face burying itself in his neck, arms wrapping themselves tightly around his waist.

regaining his balance, joshua hugs you right back just as tightly, his big hand gently taming down your hair.

with all of the gratefulness you’re feeling for him, you whisper in a somewhat broken voice “thank you. thank you. thank you.”, repeating the words like a mantra.

joshua just closes his eyes as he kisses the side of your head, still softly patting your head.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

to say that the whole day was spent doing nothing but what you wanted was a given. joshua honestly didn’t care what you were doing as long as it was what you wanted and that you were doing it together.

so, naturally, you two started by riding the teacups. and if joshua felt like puking every spin the cup you two were in spun into? well he surely wasn’t going to tell you and ruin the mood for you.

the moment you two saw the stand with silly headbands in the distance, joshua knew what your next stop was.

so that’s why not even five minutes later he found himself with mickey mouse inspired headband (that was also matching your own minnie mouse headband) on top of his head. and naturally, you just had to take millions of pictures of you two together because how could you not when joshua was looking so damn cute?

following that, you dragged him to the sweets stand, where there were all sorts of candies available. as he did the whole day today, joshua naturally paid for the candies too. he wasn’t surprised at all when you shyly asked him if you could buy you a heart shaped cotton candy-and of course he said yes.

how could he ever say no to the love of his life?

while you were sitting down on a bench, joshua was looking up at the map of the whole amusement park and what rides you could go onto next-all while you were feeding him pieces of cotton candy here and there.

seeing that the park had a lot to offer, you two decided to just walk around for a bit and explore what you could ride next while the cotton candy in your stomach settles down a bit more so you won’t have to puke it all out as a result of the said ride.

and so came all the rigged games.

the moment joshua saw you looking at the big white teddy bear that you can only win by hitting the target with an arrow, he knew that he was going to do everything in his power and spend so much money just to win you that stupid teddy bear.

(spoiler alert: it took him 45 minutes and much more than he expected to win that teddy bear but it was all worth it in the end as he watched you squeal and jump around with the said teddy in your arms, struggling to hold him in your arms due to its humongous size).

the moment you spotted the tank filled with little goldfish, you immediately dragged him to try to catch one. (this time, you did tell him to stop trying after 10 minutes because you felt so sorry for him trying so hard for you.)

after playing many more games (and losing terribly at them), you saw a booth that said “tarot cards- one reading 5$” and you again, dragged joshua by your intertwined hands.

for some reason, the woman that did the readings had the policy that only one person can enter the booth-which screamed ‘scam’ to joshua but alas, who was he to say no to you?

and so he waited outside for five minutes that it took for the woman to read you your cards.

when he saw you coming out, he noticed that you had a weird expression on your face-not quite sad or upset, but more so like you were processing some thoughts.

feeling a bit uneasy, joshua gently grabbed your arm and rubbed a tumb over your shirt as he asked “you okay, baby?”

breaking out of your trance, you smile reassuringly at him. “yeah. you should go in though. the lady is so wise and she really knows what she’s doing”.

at your insistence, joshua pushes the dark purple curtain out oddly his way so he can enter.

waisting no second, the middle aged lady spoke “ah, we have another sceptic and nonbeliever hier”, she chuckles as she focuses on mixing the cards together.

joshua just looks at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

amused by his reaction, the lady points her ring cladded hand to the chair across her “please, sit my child”.

still unsure and now also a little bit confused, joshua sits down and looks at the lady in front of him with furrowed eyebrows.

not paying his confused state any mind, the lady asks him “so, what will it be. love, money or career?”

joshua focuses all of his attention on her quick hands mixing the cards together, opens his mouth to answer before he gets interrupted yet again “love it is then”.

now thoroughly freak out, joshua just watches with wide eyes as she slowly takes out 5 cards and puts them on the table in front of them.

how the hell did she knew what i was going to say?

the lady hums as she looks at the cards with a thoughtful expression.

“you’re afraid that you’re not doing enough for your lady huh? I wouldn’t worry too much about that, if i were you. instead, i would focus my energy on making her open up more to you, she seems to be carrying a lot of darkness within herself. let her let it all out and you two will get even closer than you are”.

she then taps on the middle card in the first row with her long nail. “i sense some big energy from you, energy that could bring you two potential problems, but as long as you two communicate and always choose each other over letting the problem win, you two shall be fine.”

she then points to the card next to that one. “unfortunately, she will have to deal with a big heartbreak in the near future, someone in her close family will be the one to do it. that will be the time where you will have to be strong for the both of you and take really good care of her. but worry not, for you will help her tremendously at those times.”

the lady then looks at one of the card on the bottom and smiles “ah, so we are already at the stage where we’re looking for the ring huh. make it simple-the whole thing. instead of grand gestures, she will treasure you showing that you care for her much more. make it intimate and sweet.”

joshua blushes at being exposed, especially because he just started looking for a ring not even two weeks ago.

she hums again as she looks at the cards again, before suddenly grabbing his hand, turning it palm up towards her. looking at it for a second, she closes his hand and taps the back of it lightly. “you have nothing to worry about, you two have a love story straight out of a romance novel in front of you. just makes sure to always take care of her heart first and it will all be fine”, she smiles softly at him.

just as he was about to leave the tent, the lady calls for him.

“ans joshua?”

he turns around and looks at her with questionable eyes.

the lady smirks at him as she answers “go for the second ring. she will like that one much more”.

blushing furiously, he quickly escapes the tent and looks around for you before his eyes find you already looking at him.

approaching each other, you question him about how it was, all while he avoids answering your questions, saying things like ‘so stupid, who would even believe all that”, muttering profanities at the lady, all with rosy cheeks.

it is only after five minutes of walking away from the tarot tent that it hits joshua.

he never told her what his name was.

looking at you to his right, joshua just thinks to himself that…

maybe the lady had the right about the second ring being the right pick for you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

after riding more rides that made him almost puke your lunch out (the huge rollercoaster being the worst one out of all the others), joshua then starts dragging you by the hand, for the first time that day not being the one to be dragged around.

he seemingly knew where he was headed, his grip on your hand strong in fear not to lose you in the crowd, his broad shoulders and short hair being the only thing you could focus on.

the night was slowly setting on the sky, the stars barely visible due to all the light pollution in the park, and yet the only thing you could focus on is your lover in front of you and how warm his hand felt holding yours.

looking at him and on the whole day he organised for you today made you realise that this, right here, the person in front of you, was your true family. there hasn’t been a day since you two met where he hasn’t taken care of you and your heart. and then today? you can’t remember if you ever felt this…carefree and youthful. it had you wondering if this is how children should feel like? is this what it feels like…to have somebody love your inner child with all of its ‘faults’ and imperfections? you certainly wouldn’t know.

but looking at joshua…you just might be getting the idea about it.

you were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t even notice where you were headed until you two were standing in front of what you could only describe as your dream come true.

a ferris wheel.

the minute you realised what was coming next, you gasped and started jumping up and down next to joshua, in process shaking him too due to him still holding onto your hand, his smile getting broader and brighter the longer he looks at you being so excited.

after a few minutes, your turn to buy tickets comes too. but for some reason, your boyfriend wasn’t quite done with being secretive and all that-because you find him whispering something to the man behind the counter, as well as handing him way more cash than the two tickets cost.

when you question him about it, he just smiles as he responds “you will see soon enough”.

your boyfriend had this weird habit, where he preferred sitting next to you rather than across from you, says that he would much rather feel pain in his neck from having to turn his head to be able to look at you than to reach across the table or whatever it is that is between you two to be able to hold your hand.

so, naturally, when you two enter the carriage, he sits right next to you.

and after a few minutes your carriage starts to move.

the view below you leaves you breathless. thousands of little lights in the distance, all twinkling in different colours. the people below you looking so incredibly small, you would’ve never guessed that they were right there, at the same place you two have spent the whole day.

you find yourself gasping and keeping your mouth open the whole time.

the fact you only realise later when joshua shows you a photo of you he took just now.

you carriage makes one full turn.

and then the second turn.

but then, on the third turn, it stops right on top.

just as you start questioning joshua what is happening, a single firework goes off in the night sky.

and then the second.

and then you lose the count of how many firework there are. multiple going off at the same time, looking like they’re fighting for the dominance, they all look so pretty, going off in so many colours and shapes.

you find yourself wondering…is this what a child feels like watching the fireworks for the very first time? it must be, because why else would you feel like this watching this beautiful sight for the very first time?

yes, your first time watching the fireworks.

something nobody ever knew about you.

not even joshua.

(or so you thought.)

after a few minutes, the magic comes to a stop, the stars now being the only thing to see in the night sky.

ever so slowly, you turn around to look at your boyfriend, a gentle smile grazing the edges of his mouth.

normally, joshua would find himself panicking at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks. knowing (or, well, presuming) why you were crying, he just reaches with his tumb to wipe away the little droplet falling from your eyes.

to be completely honest, joshua never cared enough for firework and meteor showers like you did, probably because he has witnessed those things so many times, he forgot how surreal it must be seeing it for the very first time.

but looking at you right now, he found himself thinking one thing only.

joshua was never going to take one single firework going off for granted ever again.

smiling a little while his tumb still runs your cheek, he asks “did you like it?”

and that seems to have done it for you.

because suddenly, without any warning, you start sobbing, gripping the front of his shirt as you lower your head onto his shoulder.

joshua just hugs you closer, his hand gently patting your head.

through sobs you find yourself saying “t-thank you, thank you so much-so much f-for today, i-i can’t even- i- you make me so-so happy, you are l-literally my dream man, y-you are everything i have ever- i have always dreamed of i-i-“ breaking off in the middle of it to let out all the sobs you had to hold in in order to get your words out.

joshua suddenly brings both of his hands to your cheeks, bringing your face up and in front of his own.

with all the seriousness and honesty he possesses, he says “you are my dream come true too, baby. actually, better than any dream i have ever had. you are my reality, that’s what makes you even better.”

kissing joshua, right there, in the little carriage, you find yourself thinking one thing and one thing only.

if it were possible, you would spend decades being and feeling like a little child.

as long as you get to do it with the love of your life beside you.

[maliland]

PLAY FAIR!

now playing: xo by beyoncé

barbie(s): e-1610 miles & black fem reader

includes: fluff & fake ass friends

synopsis: your day starts off a bit rocky when you're confronted with conflict concerning your friendships. your boyfriend cheers you up by taking you to the fair!

wc: 8358 (not including the bonus)

credz: @/firefly-graphics

a/n: first fluff fic yayay!! i lied abt when i was dropping this sooo many times, mb.. there's a bonus to make up for it. i hope u guys enjoy this and read VERY slowly bc idk when i'm dropping a fic next 🚶‍♀️ idk what i was doing here lowkey… i h8 everything but the bonus. (i'm biased i like angst better) lmk what y’all think of this tho 💞 ((i proof read but there might be mistakes))

mothers were always thought to have an intuition when it came to their children—some sort of sixth sense. the science behind it? well, there is none. none that’s been proven, anyway. that doesn’t stop some mothers from swearing that their second sight was legit. your mom was one of them, constantly giving her unwarranted two cents about people in your life who seemed harmless to you.

you felt blessed to have the mother you did. she was your best friend and your biggest cheerleader. she brought you up to be the girl you are today. without her, you didn't know who you'd be. not having a huge group of friends to be around 24/7 didn't really bother you as much as it would have if you didn't have her.

you’ve never felt like you needed to hide anything from your mom, but you did keep your crush on miles a secret for a hot minute. you'd never liked someone the way you liked him. you were shocked to discover that he like you too. when miles was ready to make things official, you knew you couldn't hide him from your mom anymore, so you didn't. she met him one saturday morning over breakfast, and to your surprise, she liked him. you were shocked she didn’t have anything condemnatory to say about your boyfriend, not because there was anything wrong with miles, but because your mom is overprotective of you.

growing up, you hadn’t always been the most sociable kid. all of the friends you had now found you and so did miles. that being said, your mom worried that people would take advantage of your built-in hospitality and youf kind heart. she watched out for certain things when you'd describe your interactions with people, then told you to watch out as well. although her overprotectiveness could be irritating more often than not, your mom had definitely helped you avoid trouble here and there.

growing up meant change. you weren't the biggest fan of change because of the risk that came with it. you had always preferred to stick to what you know—until this year. your fourth and final year of high school had you wanting to break out of your shell. the same few friends wouldn’t be there to keep you company when you graduate and go to different colleges, or hold your hand for the rest of your life. neither would your beloved mother. you had to hold your own hand.

you weren't sure how you were going to make friends, and you were too ashamed to ask anyone how to do so. thankfully, you didn't have to do much, because the friends you made came to you.

it started with a group chat with the five girls you had calculus with this year: tiesha, taraji, yanira, and adana. tiesha had created the chain so you all could send homework answers and test reviews back and forth. math was never your strong suit, so cheating was really the only reason you were passing. brief conversations about homework and how much you all hated the class turned into full blown conversations about boys and tv shows. minor comments about something annoying that someone did in class turned into major gossip sessions. you couldn't remember the last time you went a whole day without talking to those girls, whether it was one text message or twenty.

your mom told you she was excited that you had expanded your circle, but you could tell by the way her smile had slightly faltered that she was indeed irresolute. you knew you’d never understand her intuitive claims unless you had children of your own, and even then, you’d still doubt the phenomenon’s validity. it was just your nature to question everything.

presently, you were at a food court in the mall, sitting by yourself at one of the tables. every now and then, you’d glance up from your phone and see a group of friends or a couple pass by you.

you were supposed to hang out with yanira, taraji, adana, and tiesha, but it was almost one and none of them had showed up to the spot in the mall where you agreed to meet. every call you made went straight to voicemail. frustrated, you opened instagram to see if any of the girls were active. you raised a brow when you noticed the multicolored spiral around yanira’s profile picture at the top of your dash where stories were located. you tapped it just to be confronted with a boomerang of yanira, tiesha, adana, and taraji posing in a dressing room mirror. your eyes bored into the screen for a few seconds before you swiped out of instagram, treachery bubbling in your stomach. you released an exasperated sigh.

your mom was right. once again.

you glanced at a nearby tv on one of the walls in the food court and saw a picture of spider-man. you read the captions as they glided across the bottom of the screen, the clip of the hero fighting off a villain playing simultaneously. the news reporter narrated the highlights of the brawl and another one followed up his narration by concluding that spider-man had once again saved the city.

you smiled to yourself like a proud mother, then you thought about miles, not spider-man. you hadn’t talked to your boyfriend since the night before. as if he could read your mind, your phone buzzed against the table and lit up.

3 text messages @ 12:42pm

miles: hey, pretty girl (12:42pm)  miles: i couldn’t text you this morning, i’m sorry (12:42pm)  miles: villain of the week decided to get up early today (12:42pm)

so did you, but for different reasons. reasons that no longer mattered. you didn't even know why you were still sitting in that food court. you should've been en route to the train station by now. you felt so damn stupid.

you: that’s okay (12:43pm)

miles: are you okay? (12:43pm) miles: yk i’d never purposely ignore you, right? (12:43pm)

you: yeah, i know (12:44pm) you: it’s not you (12:44pm)  you: i’m at the mall rn bc i was supposed to meet some friends here, but they never showed. nb wanted to answer the phone either (12:44pm) you: i checked instagram n it turns out they’re all here (12:45pm) you: just without me (12:45pm) you: sooo now i have to do the walk of shame back to the subway station (12:45pm)

miles: that’s so messed up, i’m really sorry (12:46pm)  miles: did anything happen with them before this? (12:46pm)

you: no (12:46pm)  you: i mean if it did then idk anything about it (12:47pm)  you: my ma warned me about those girls. i should’ve listened 🤦‍♀️ (12:47pm)

miles: i got an idea. are you free now? (12:47pm)

you: i am 🤨 (12:48pm)

miles: take the subway to mine (12:48pm)  miles: i have a surprise ❤️ (12:48pm)

you: i gtg grab smth from my place b4 that (12:49pm) you: but i’ll be there :) (12:49pm)

miles loved a message @ 12:50pm

you didn’t even realize the smile that had crept up on your face until it was almost ear to ear and a few seconds away from making your cheeks ache. you quickly stood up from your chair, the legs howling loudly as they scraped against the tile. you winced at the noise and picked the chair up to move it instead of pushing it in. afterwards, you began walking to the exit closest to the subway station. your pace slowed when you saw your “friends” in front of you. they hadn’t noticed you yet. you hoped they wouldn't. they were walking in a horizontal line, laughing and carrying bags on their arms from different stores. you thought it made them look like they belonged in mean girls, or some coming-of-age disney movie with a clique of popular girls who manage to be both unnecessarily cruel and loved by everyone for antsgonists.

when the group of teens finally spotted you, they briefly side-eyed one another before looking back at you, fake smiles gracing their lips almost immediately after.

did they think you were stupid, blind, or both?

“[name]!” adana called out to you when you were only a few feet apart. she dragged out the last part of your name too. you saw it for what it was: an obvious and weak effort to sound genuine. adana picked up her pace so she got to you faster than the other girls. “we thought you weren’t coming, girl!”

you remained tranquil, though you could see everyone else behind adana snickering and exchanging looks. your kept your face relatively blank, not wanting to show the girls before you even the slightest bit of chagrin. they’d get a kick out of it and your outburst would be the topic of their conversations for weeks to come. high school was truly exhausting.

“i mean, i got here at twelve like we agreed,” you shrugged. “i called you guys too. i guess your phones were off.”

“yeah, they were,” taraji chimed in, showing you the 'do not disturb' icon on her phone. you fought the urge to roll your eyes at her fraudulent tone.

you almost couldn’t believe that this was a real situation that you were somehow caught in the middle of. tiesha pouted, the friction between her lips causing her already-faded pink and brown lip combo to fade some more. you knew she was mocking you, but you only wanted to smile when you thought about the shiny gloss that was neatly slathered on your lips, much unlike hers.

“are you okay? have you been here by yourself this whole time?” tiesha interrogated. it felt more like instigating.

“i mean, yeah,” your eyes darted around nervously. lipgloss honestly wasn’t a big deal anyway, tiesha probably had more in her bag. your confidence boost was short-lived and had diminished. you were never the type to thrive off someone's disadvantage. either way, you could act. “but it didn’t really bother me ‘cause i was texting my boyfriend and we—”

“boyfriend?” adana laughed mockingly like it was unbelievable. like it was impossible. “i didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“what? i’ve told you guys this,” you frowned, your voice wavering to a degree.

you stared at the four girls with an eyebrow cocked up while they turned to each other and shook their heads, a few whispers floated in the air and into your ears. you had spoken about miles to these girls before, you were positive. he was never a secret, you just weren’t someone who posted online a lot. in fact, you only had instagram because your mom made you sign up. you’d never posted once. either way, it’s your relationship. you didn’t want everyone in your business, that’s where mess was rooted. that's how problems started.

what mess the unforeseen treatment you were receiving was rooted in? that was a mystery to you. you didn’t understand how the girls who were supposed to be your friends could switch up on you at the speed of light. there hadn’t been any fights or arguments between any of you—to your knowledge, at least.

you’ve always preached that there are two sides to every story, but you also preached communication. you all were cool last night while confirming today’s plans, now suddenly they know nothing about you?

nobody questioned you about miles. instead, yanira broke the silence that you’d spent lost in your thoughts, trying to make sense of the uncomfortable situation you were in with purely scraps. “well, good thing we found you now.” she pursed her lips afterwards, clearly stifling a laugh.

words couldn’t describe how stupid and naive you felt. they were trying to play you in your face and thought you were oblivious to it. you were starting to think so too. maybe they’d been playing in your face this entire time. maybe they’ve been acting for the duration of your friendship. maybe there were signs this entire time and you didn’t notice until now. maybe the idea of meeting new people thrilled you too much, and they took advantage of that when they realized it.

you weren’t lashing out over everything going on in the name of “staying calm.” you couldn’t grant anyone the satisfaction of knowing they struck a nerve, and bad. you were just as committed to keeping up with your act as they were to theirs, and nothing was going to make you let up.

“we were just about to grab some food,” tiesha added after yanira, smiling ever so innocently, as if she was oblivious to the treatment you were receiving. tiesha was the one you were the closest with, so that hurt. stung even.

“thanks, but i have other plans,” you faked a smile and made sure to look each one of your “friends” dead in each of their glowering, dull eyes.

adana’s face contorted in slight indignation. “how could you have plans? were you only gonna hang with us for an hour?”

“i was heading out before i ran into you guys,” you smiled and shrugged, checking the time on your phone. “gotta go now or i’ll miss the train. i’ll see you guys at school on monday.”

those insolent girls gave you the stink eye as deviated away. a few steps farther from fakery and you could already hear the whispers and the murmurs, even if the mall was loud. they sounded more like hisses the farther away you got, until they blended into the many, many sounds of your local mall. you were thankful to be free from that conversation—if you could even call it that.

your next chat oughta be a real one. though you hated it, confrontation was just around the corner.

❤︎₊ ⊹

“and then they acted like absolutely nothing was wrong… tiesha too!”

you were seated on one end of the couch in miles’ apartment, your legs crossed and resting on top of his thighs and a pillow between the arm of the couch and your back. miles hadn’t told you what the surprise was yet, and quite frankly, it had slipped your mind entirely. you were never good when it came to keeping your emotions in check. the fury boiling and seething inside you was so immense that you couldn’t give anything but what happened at the mall even half of a thought even if you wanted to. miles was steadily running his hand up and down the bottom half of one of your legs because he knew it’d help you calm you down. it was something he did by default while you were ranting, because when you were upset over something, you could go on for hours.

miles was a teen girl’s diary that could talk back. you had been on a twenty-minute tangent about what transpired at the mall, making sure to include even the most minor details that other people would view as futile. your boyfriend made sure you knew he was listening, nodding and making a few comments when you’d pause to catch your breath. most people would hate hearing someone complain for as long as you usually did, but miles didn't mind it. in fact, he enjoyed it. it wasn’t your anger that he savored, he just loved staring at your pretty face. you had miles in a trance forever and always. your beauty would forever captivate the boy and you were well aware. the difference between now and when you weren’t blowing smoke out of your ears was that miles could admire every feature without you teasing him for it, because you wanted him to pay attention. in any other instance, you loved pointing out how much he stares and making fun of him for it as if you’re not just as head over heels.

“i feel pathetic. i waited there for a goddamn hour. and you wanna know what the worst part about all of this is?” you exhaled, your irises peering directly into miles’.

even when you were upset, you could admire him. you were doing it in that moment. last time it was his eyes, now it was his hair. the sun rays looming from the unfolded blinds painted his afro a soft brown, singling out and defining numerous strands of those gorgeous spirals sprouting from his head. he was so perfect to you. you often had trouble believing you could call him yours.

“tell me,” miles retorted, slightly angling his head to the left.

“i wore a good outfit for nothing,” you whined, tipping your head back concurrently. “i just got this tracksuit! this is honestly ten times worse than wasting a good outfit on a boring day.”

you had on a black, velvet matching set from juicy couture. it was expensive and you were pissed to have had wasted your first wear on the day you found out your friends aren’t shit. miles remembered how excited you were to buy that outfit. you’d talked about saving the money for it for what felt like forever.

“you didn’t waste your outfit,” miles assured you, drawing confusion to your face almost immediately. “i still have a surprise, you know.”

“right,” your eyes lit up and you sat up straighter, disregarding your mood. “i was thinking about it on the subway and i have a few guesses.”

“i don’t think you’ll be able to guess this one, but you can try," he laughed lowly.

“cookies?” you started.

miles shook his head. “no.”

“a cat?”

“no, mami,” he laughed.

“ummm,” you tapped your chin like you were deep in thought. your dark-colored orbs traveled to the ceiling. “movie marathon night?”

“better.”

you snapped your fingers. “christmas movie marathon night."

“no movies,” miles clarified.

“beyoncé?”

“not beyoncé.”

“i can do your makeup?!”

“nope.”

“you got me,” you rolled your eyes and blew raspberries. “i give up. spill.”

“i know you wanted to go to the fair during the summer, but i didn’t take you because i knew you’d complain about the heat,” miles began. “now that it’s november, i figured it’d be the perfect time to go.”

“oh shit, for real?!” your eyes slightly widened as you swung your legs off of miles.

“i don’t see why i wouldn’t be,” he retorted. “we’ll take the train and walk the rest of the way.”

you jumped off of the couch in excitement and shuffled behind the piece of furniture to grab your purse. you glanced over at miles, who was now scrolling on his phone. you crept up on him from behind the couch and inched close to his ear.

“get up!” you demanded playfully, grabbing his shoulders. miles slightly flinched, and you burst into a fit of laughter at his reaction.

“okay, okay!” he stood up, rolling his eyes and smiling. “i was thinking we could wait a little bit before we went.”

“nope, no time to waste,” you insisted. you’d wasted enough of that with your “friends.”

your boyfriend told you about all of the abilities that he acquired when he became spider-man, one of them being his heightened senses. you used to expect them to go off whenever you were approaching him, or whenever you scared him, but they never did. when you inquired about it, miles told you that his senses were most likely there to protect him, therefore they’d only go off when they felt like someone or something posed a threat. he didn’t elaborate any further, but you got what you needed to out of it.

knowing that miles and his radioactive dna felt safe around you made you feel special.

❤︎₊ ⊹

you hadn't been to a fair since you were ten. you had gone with your cousins, your mom, and your aunt. back then, you weren't smart enough to know how to play any of the games correctly. you weren't tall enough to ride anything that looked cool to you, either. you despised always having to settle for the teacups and the carousel.

going back to the fair wasn't really a priority until that past summer. it just happened to be on the long list of things you wanted to do with miles.

the air outside was cool and crisp and the sun probably felt threatened by the clouds obstructing its view of the city with insomnia. you were relieved to not feel the sweltering heat beating down on you, especially since you had worn the sun’s favorite color in velvet. the leaves on the trees were turning orange now. you were entranced by one tree in particular, watching as the plant detached itself from the branch of the tree and danced in the wind on the way to the ground.

at the front gate, you held out your hand so one of the employees could give you a stamp, as did miles. the stamp was an orange leaf, but it didn't really show up on your darker-colored skin no matter how you squinted.

now that you were there, the fair was much more different than you pictured it to be. though you wanted to experience as much as you could, you had three main goals in mind:  1. win an unnecessarily oversized plush 2. take pictures in a photo booth 3. go on the ferris wheel

as long as you were able to say you did all of those things by the end of that night, you’d forget all the misfortune that the first half of the day bestowed upon you and forgive the universe for allowing it.

as you strolled the fair grounds with miles, you tried to catch a glimpse of everything there was to do as you passed. the fair was bustling with people. there were families, groups of friends, trios, duo. there were also couples, like you and miles. you even saw people by themselves every so often. your day could’ve ended like that, you were elated that you didn’t feel alone anymore, but you’d never say it out loud.

“whatcha wanna do first?” miles asked you. he was being just as observant as you, if not more.

you squinted your eyes ahead and a specific game caught your eye. “let’s play basketball, i’ll definitely whoop your ass this time.”

“big talk for someone who can barely even shoot baskets when we're on the court,” miles fired back. “whoever wins gets to choose what we do next.”

“fine by me,” you shrugged.

you two grabbed a single basketball from your lanes when you got over to the game. you saw miles adjust his grip on the ball from the corner of your eye. you reduced your eyes to slits in response and pressed your lips together.

when the bell rang and the timer began to count down, you both shot your balls into the baskets. both of them made it in. you were doing fine for the first couple of seconds, but then your balls began to veer away from your basket. you quickly glanced over at miles’ scoreboard to find that he was eight scores ahead of you. you furrowed your brows and began throwing balls into the goal again, making the first three shots and missing the last two. you were on autopilot from that moment on, throwing balls at your goal without stopping to celebrate nor gripe.

just as you reached down for a basketball to make another shot, the timer went off, indicating the end of the game. you looked up at your scoreboard to find that you’d only gotten twenty-eight shots. you could already feel miles’ eyes boring a hole through your head, patiently waiting on you to look over at his lane and accept defeat.

you gave in to defeat and scanned his final scoreboard: fifty-eight shots.

you finally looked over at the boy and he was smirking slyly. “yeah, so i’m tryna play the game with the water guns and the targets.”

you would’ve much preferred to find a photo booth next, but a deal was a deal, so you brushed off your loss. neither of you had a map, so you weren't sure where any of the games were. you two agreed to wing it, so you and miles roamed around for a while. you made small talk and miles teased you for being so confident that you'd win the last game.

finally, you came across the mini-game he wanted to play. your face lit up when you saw all the stuffed animals hanging from the rack above. you could get behind this.

the worker was on her phone, visibly nodding off until you two approached the game. you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes and shoving her phone in the back pocket of her black jeans. though she was clearly fed up by the presence of you and your boyfriend, she thoroughly explained the rules of the game. miles had to strike down moving targets with a water gun. the targets would move left to right, up and down, or both. he had to shoot all of them to win, and he only got five minutes to do so.

the worker hit the red button and miles was on the clock.

the targets were the typical kind: white circles with red circular stripes, and a red bullseye in the middle. you watched keenly as miles gripped the gun and squeezed one of his eyes shut for precision, pulling the trigger and shooting a line of water at two of the targets with ease. to his surprise, they began to move faster. he was still hitting them though.

the employee was paying miles no mind, already turned around and back on her phone, texting away. even though dealing with those targets was like breathing for miles, he decided to take a shortcut. just for fun.

while the worker wasn’t looking, miles handed you the water gun and used his web-shooters to swiftly shoot down the last five targets. your eyes enlarged at him in a panic and before you could really think about it, you sprayed the webbing off of the targets miles shot down with them.

the worker turned back around when she heard the winner’s bell ringing. by that time, the water gun was already back in miles' hand. the worker stared at the both of you in confusion. miles looked proud of himself. you nervously smiled and shrugged.

the worker rolled her eyes before they traveled over to the selection of toys and stuffed animals just above her. “pick a prize, any prize,” she said unenthusiastically.

“which one do you want, mama?” miles asked you.

“umm…” your voice trailed off. your eyes glossed over all the different plushies until one caught your eye. “stitch for sure.”

the worker nodded and unhooked the stuffed animal from the rack. she quickly handed it to miles and gave him a quick half-assed smile before resuming her bored expression. miles passed you the stuffed animal and you smiled brightly. you remembered this feeling, and you felt like a little kid all over again.

“he’s our son now,” you proudly declared.

“he’s too big for that,” miles teased you. “that’s a grown man.”

you gave miles a dirty look and punched him in the shoulder. “i won’t let you body shame our son.”

“my bad!” miles laughed and put his hands up in defense.

"yeah, whatever," you gave miles an eye roll and grimaced. you clocked the worker glaring at you two from the corner of your eye, so you grabbed miles' hand and hurriedly dragged him away from the booth. "we gotta go before she sees the pile of webs on the ground and has cps investigate us. she already hates us, what if she makes us return our son?”

"that's your main concern?" miles' eyes widened. "not the worker finding out i'm a superhero?"

“why would i be worried about that?" you inquired playfully. "i shouldn't have to lose my baby because you wanted to risk your identity."

you both laughed as you wandered along the paths of the fair aimlessly. neither of you knew what you where you were going next, but you were way too immersed in your debate to think about it. amidst your little parley, the sun finally escaped from the clouds' cover, the sky shifting to a warm orange and light shades of pink instead of the gray it had greeted you with.

“by the way, that was very much cheating,” you chuckled, thinking back to the mini-game. “you need to play fair next time. no web-shooters.”

“we had no opponents,” your boyfriend reminded you.

“the employee seemed like one,” you replied, thinking back to the looks she’d give you two. “i didn’t even know you had your shooters on you… anyway, that means stitch is an accident.” you frowned.

miles' nose wrinkled. “man, what?”

“i’m just chattin’,” you snickered.

“per usual,” miles shook his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder and shaking his head.

you two kept walking aimlessly for a little while, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted a photo booth. you briefly made eye contact with miles before briskly snatching up his arm, pulling him as you sped over to the booth.

“the booth’s not gonna disappear, damn!” miles from behind you, panting with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“it could,” you shrugged, gesturing to the curtain with your free hand. “get in.”

“stitch won’t fit in there,” miles pointed out.

you frowned and observed your surroundings. you knew stitch was bound to get stolen if you left him outside unattended. you continued to glance around, trying to come up with a simple, but logical solution. your eyes stopped on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench by herself, flipping through a novel. she had on a white sweater with a black dress underneath, her long hair braided down and resting on her shoulder. you told miles to wait by the booth and approached the woman with a light-hearted smile on your face.

“hi, excuse me," you spoke softly in an attempt to make a good impression.

the lady looked up at you, half-surprised. she adjusted the position glasses with her index finger, gently pushing them up the bridge of her nose. “oh, yes?”

“may you please watch this for me while i take pictures with my boyfriend in that booth over there? i promise we won’t be long.”

you looked back at miles and pointed in his direction. though he was clearly confused, he smiled nervously and waved anyway. you turned back around to face the woman and smiled again.

“of course i will, dear,” the lady replied, a smile gracing her lips. she waved back at miles.

“thank you so much,” you smiled graciously, setting stitch next to her on the bench. you were ready to go back to miles when the woman stopped you by calling out. you whipped around, biding patiently in the same spot until she spoke.

“cherish the memories that you’re making. all of them.”

you didn’t exactly know what she meant, but then your last trip to the fair came to mind. it was so long ago, but you had almost forgotten how much fun you’d had, even if you couldn’t do much. you never wanted to make the mistake of taking memories for granted whilst you’re making them, because then you'd miss them too much when they were in the past, at least that's how you saw it. the future is uncertain. life is cruel. that day at the fair as a toddler could’ve been the first and the only time you ever went. today could be the second and the last. you hadn’t really thought about any of that before. you hadn’t thought about how precious your memories really were.

“and make them with the right people.”

you knew what that meant.

your eyes lowered, confusion evident on your face anyway. “how do i know if they’re the right people?”

“you’ll know. intuition is real. if something feels wrong or right, you'll know. listen to what your body is telling you, my dear,” the lady replied, crossing one leg over the other and opening her book back up.

your eyes widened slightly as you were still a tad bit lost, but you nodded. "okay. i will."

you jogged back to the photo booth, excitement coursing through your veins. miles didn’t bother questioning your tactics this time.

you both sat down in the photo booth and miles drew the curtain shut. he sat back and you tapped the screen, selecting two printouts so you could both keep one. before you even got the chance to retrieve your wallet from your purse, miles was sliding a couple dollars inside the machine. you hadn’t even noticed them in his hand before.

“today is my treat. you’re not paying for anything,” he told you.

“boo. i can’t spoil my man every now and then?” you clicked your tongue. “i’ll get you those comics you wanted instead.”

miles shook his head and chuckled. when the timer on the screen began to count down from ten, you fixed your braids and made sure your clothes looked presentable.

“i have ideas,” you announced to miles. you'd be envisioning this moment in your mind for ages. “just let me lead.”

“you the boss,” miles conceded in compliance.

“cool,” you giggled. you slid your hand under miles' chin and pulled him closer until your lips were pressed onto his cheek. you stayed in the same position with your eyes closed until you heard the first flash. the next photo was simple, a shot of you and miles kissing. the third one was the both of you looking at each other and laughing. it wasn’t planned, but miles had made a joke so you didn’t have time to pose any differently.

in the following ten seconds, you made miles your canvas, scattering kissing all over his face. he was confused until he looked at the screen to see all that your lips were imprinted on his face with colored lipgloss. he kissed his teeth but then laughed. your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and that was the last photo. it was your favorite.

you waited for the photo strips to print and then left the booth. you immediately snapped your neck towards the bench to see your stitch plushy still sitting with the older lady. you sighed in relief and jogged over to her.

“thank you again!” you beamed, grabbing the stuffed animal.

you had a feeling she knew you were also thanking her for the unsolicited advice. you'd never understand how some older people were so good at reading others.

“you’re welcome, dear,” she waved goodbye and you waved back.

you wouldn’t forget what she told you.

you then went back to miles, expressing how happy you were that stitch wasn’t stolen. you went on and on about what a terrible mother you would’ve been, had you lost your child after not even twenty minutes of having him.

a few minutes later, miles caught you staring at some nearby concession stands. you didn’t eat anything before leaving his flat, but the line was a bit lengthy. you were silently trying to decide whether the wait would be worth it.

“you hungry?”

you nodded, settling for waiting in a long queue over an empty stomach. “starving."

❤︎₊ ⊹

it was getting late now. the sun was nowhere in sight and neither was the end of the night. the cool fall breeze felt nice against your soft skin. you wished that you could live in this part of the day for eternity, playfully bickering with miles as if you wouldn’t cling to him a few minutes later during the drop on a rollercoaster.

up to that point, you had gone on at least thirteen rides and played nine competitive mini-games. miles ended up winning most of them, despite him saying he’d go “easy on you.” you’d always respond to loss by saying you won in your heart, and he’d laugh at you. you’d pretend to be upset until you couldn’t fake it anymore and laughed along with him.

now, you and miles were sitting on grass, the synthetic kind. you two had shared a peculiarly long corn dog. you claimed that was enough for you, but miles ordered nachos too, and you shamelessly snatced up a sizable amount of them. food just tasted better when it wasn't yours.

after hours of being offline, you finally had a phone break. you sent your mom a text to check in with her before navigating to your email app. you scrolled through your recent until you came across the digital copies of the pictures you and miles took in the photo booth earlier sitting in your inbox. “i got the digital version of the photos. they're so cute!" you exclaimed.

miles grinned. “send ‘em to me later on."

“will do,” you agreed, looking back up to see him stood up from the ground with stitch in hand.

“i’ma rent out a locker to keep this guy inside of and then head to the bathroom,” he told you.

“okay, i’ll be here,” you nodded.

whenever you were out with anyone, you always thought it was common courtesy not to reply to texts that weren’t urgent. you never wanted to make anyone in your life feel like your focus wasn’t on them while you were spending time together. that being said, you hadn’t thoroughly gone through your notification center since you were at the mall. since miles was gone for a little, you thought it was a good time to deliver a few textbacks, because you knew that after tonight, you wouldn’t have any energy to do so until the next day.

you didn’t have any notifications from the calculus group chat, no surprise there. you had an older one from your mom from before you checked in, but she was just sending a tiktok. the next one down was tiesha and then adana. a pit formed in your stomach and you nervously chewed on the inside of your cheek. despite the uneasy feeling you had, you opened tiesha’s text first.

tiesha💞: [name] (5:46pm) tiesha💞: miles is your boyfriend?? (5:46pm)

‘not this again’ you thought.

you didn’t know what you were expecting the text to say, but it wasn’t that. this wasn’t a topic you wanted to circle back on, given everyone’s initial reactions. and you thought she knew—you thought everyone knew. maybe you weren’t as close with tiesha as you thought you were. or any of those girls.

you: yes... i’ve said this before (7:34pm)

you: literally with him rn. why? what’s the problem? (7:35pm)

your brows were knitted together as you anticipated a reply, your fingers drawing circles in midair just centimeters above the keyboard. you were biting the left side of your lip and your teeth were close to piercing the skin. tiesha's response came quick despite your late reply.

tiesha 💞: miles morales? the one i told you i like?? (7:36pm)

you read the text and had to do a double-take. your stomach dropped all over again. you had an exceptional memory. tiesha had never mentioned miles to you, like, ever. she hadn't mentioned any crush of hers to you at all. you just assumed she wasn't interested in dating.

you: i don’t remember you saying anything about like any miles.. but yeah he’s my boyfriend. (7:36pm) you: he has been for months now. i told y’all this, so idk why you were acting all confused @ the mall. (7:37pm)

tiesha 💞: if we knew then why would we be acting confused? 😐 (7:37pm)

you narrowed your eyes at the screen. you could tell her tone was meant to be harsh.

you: i don’t know, tiesha. (7:38pm) you: maybe for the same reason y’all were acting confused when you found me by myself at the spot that we agreed to meet at tday?? 🤦‍♀️ (7:38pm)

tiesha 💞: we said you could come hang w us (7:39pm) tiesha 💞: you’re the one who left (7:39pm)

you released an exasperated sigh as you read her response. you thought back to what the lady who watched stitch for you told you earlier. you couldn’t stick around these girls for any longer. they weren’t the people you wanted to make memories with. perhaps they were nothing more than a much needed lesson. you partially learned how to socialize, but you also needed to learn how to stand up for yourself. you were growing up. nobody else was going to do it for you.

you: i left bc you guys were acting weird towards me (7:40pm) you: idk what the deal is, but if there’s a problem you need to be straight up about it. (7:40pm) you: we all agreed to meet at the food court, but i opened ig to see y’all posing in a mirror while i’m sitting alone. why’d you even invite me atp?? (7:40pm)

tiesha 💞: i thought adana was lying when she said you got with miles, behind my back but ig she was right. (7:40pm) tiesha 💞: you weird af for that. you know i like him (7:41pm)

you: fym bro.. ??? 😭 i literally did not (7:41pm) you: and either way, he’s BEEN my boyfriend (7:42pm)

tiesha 💞: yk you only got w him to tick me off 🖕 (7:42pm)

you: ok wtv. (7:44pm) you: you guys showed me what kind of people you really are, so best believe i’m not sticking around anyway. you can tell that to eb else.(7:45pm) you: and i don't know what you thought you were doing. miles has been MY boyfriend for almost over a year now. he’ll continue to be my boyfriend for years to come, thanks. (7:47pm)

you didn't hesitate to leave the group chat and block those girls everywhere. they didn’t get to have access to you anymore. it felt like weight was lifted off your shoulders and you silently celebrated in your head. you were still in public and didn’t want to draw attention to you because you were cheering about cutting people off. at least you were free from the burden, even if you had a few less friends now.

“ready to go to the ferris wheel?”

you glanced up from your phone to see miles towering over you, both of hands in the pockets of his green puffer. you smiled big. this was the last thing on your checklist, and the thing you’d been looking forward to since you set foot on fair grounds.

“duh,” you giggled, reaching your arm out so miles could pull you up. after he did, you brushed off your outfit and cleared your throat. “so, do we know which way it is?”

“nope,” miles answered. “we’ll just start walking and hope we come across a map, or something.”

you raised and eyebrow and smirked. “so like we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“like we’ve been doing this whole time,” he echoed.

“i guess it makes it more adventurous,” you decided as you two began to walk away from the grass. you clasped your hand with his. “plus, i can tell you what happened with tiesha while you were in the bathroom while we look for it.”

miles’ eyebrows elevated. “something happened?”

“yep,” you shake your head in annoyance. “tiesha had a crush on you or something. apparently, she didn’t know we were together, so she thinks i got with you just to spite her.”

“how wouldn’t she know?”

“that’s what gets me!” you pointed your index at miles’ chest and tilted your head back in irritation. “i told her and the other three, so i don’t know why they were acting clueless! plus, she swears up and down i knew she liked you. that girl never said a word.”

“from everything you’ve told me today… it sounds like they just don’t like you,” he frowned, speaking in a way that told you he was trying not to hurt your feelings.

“they don’t,” you sighed, tilting your head up slightly. “that’s why we’re not friends anymore. i told tiesha to tell everyone else we won't be talking anymore.”

"really? are you okay?"

you reluctantly nodded. "yeah, i think i'm okay." you were telling the truth. in the moment, you were okay. maybe it'd bother you later, but all that mattered was that it wasn't bothering you now.

miles’ expression softened in relief. “that’s good. i’m glad you’re learning not to take b.s.”

you covered your mouth and snickered when you heard "b.s." for whatever reason, you thought it was humourous coming out of miles' mouth.

“no, really,” miles insisted anyway. “i’m proud of you.”

you didn’t ask for confirmation because you believed him even if you found the delivery funny. “thank you, miles.”

he smiled and pulled you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. you grinned and pressed your ear against his arm. you made sure to take in and appreciate each and every step you took forward with your lovely boyfriend. you were cherishing a memory that wasn’t one yet, but tonight felt far too special not to. you absorbed everything to the scenery and the moonlight to the warmth that clinging to miles' arm gave you.

as if it was looking for you two and not the other way around, you and miles found your way to the ferris wheel without even having to seek out direction. surprisingly, the queue wasn’t at all demanding. when you got closer to the front of the line, you thought of something. you needed something to remember your favorite memory by, anyway.

“we should take a picture in front of the wheel,” you suggested to your boyfriend. “we can ask someone to do it for us.”

“bet,” miles pulled his phone out of his back pocket of his jeans.

he turned around and kindly asked a random girl standing in line behind you two if she could take the photo for you. she thankfully agreed and miles swiped to the camera app and handed her his cell. you two backed up a bit and the girl told you where to stand so that the photo would look better. you took a few pictures standing in front of the wheel side by side, miles’ arm around your shoulders. you two were hugging in one of the shots and he was kissing your forehead in the other.

after those pictures, you took miles’ arm and made him face a different direction. now your shoulders were to the camera lens and the ferris wheel. you snaked your arms around his neck and he instinctively placed his arms around your waist. this was one of your favorite poses, miles knew what to do by now.

you glanced down at your feet and took a step closer to miles so the distance you two wouldn’t look awkward. you lifted your head back up to meet his gaze. the boy was looking at you and you could’ve sworn you saw hearts forming in his eyes. he wasn’t just looking at you, he was admiring you. there was a difference, and you could tell.

but it’s not like you weren’t doing the same.

you whispered loud enough for only miles to hear. “i love you."

“i love you more."

you shifted onto your toes and miles slightly leaned down to reach you. your lips connected effortlessly, your eyes fluttering closed in unison. the ferris wheel lights glimmered behind you two as miles deepened the kiss. you mindlessly lifted your hands to his cheek, your thumbs gently caressing his soft, warm skin.

“got it!” the girl taking the photo called out.

you and miles slowly withdrew your bodies apart and she approached you two, handing miles the phone. you both thanked the girl and got back in line. your gaze was fixed on the structure above you. all you could think about was how pretty the sky was bound look from all the way up there.

you excitedly entered the cabin when it was finally you and miles’ turn. the designated employee shut the door and your eyes immediately glued themselves to the window. you were just barely going up, and you already had a better view of the fair and all of the lights.

“you seeing this, miles?” you questioned without even daring to rip your eyes away from the window.

“i am,” he smiled. your reaction to the view made him happier than any angle of the world around him ever could.

as you ascended higher up, you focused more on what was above ground rather than on it. the luminous stars painted the night sky like white spatters of paint would paint a black canvas. they glittered brightly above you while the ferris wheel slowly spun.

you turned your head back to miles to smile at him, but he beat you to it. you felt like the luckiest girl alive. you were thankful to have at least one person who was true to you. that alone was more than enough. 

miles was more than enough.

the moonshine illuminated your beguiling features as you admired its fullness and its beauty. your head was rested on miles’ shoulder and his arm was sitting around your waist, the other one holding your hand in his lap. you knew you’d look back on this and recall that you never took this day or the feeling that came with it for granted, not once.

this felt so right—you didn’t know how to explain it. tonight was perfect and you would never change a thing. everything was how it should be. you were where you should be, you could feel it. this felt right in your soul.

maybe this was it. maybe this is what everyone was talking about.

maybe intuition is real.

❤︎₊ ⊹ bonus:

you and miles had concluded your fair date and were back at his place. you were going to stay for a while before returning to your own. your head was on his shoulder and your legs were curled up in the opposite direction. his hand was evolved in yours, as yours was in his. miles' mom was home and you definitely didn't want to give her the wrong idea by appearing exceedingly handsy.

“i had fun,” you gloated on the day you'd just had as miles browsed through netflix on the tv.

“are you sure? you seemed pretty over it when i beat you at basketball.”

you tongue clicked. "very funny, morales." you thought for a moment. “and thanks for taking me out, by the way. i know you were probably tired from having to fight all morning,” you exhaled.

“it’s no problem,” miles insisted, though you could tell he looked tired. “tomorrow’s sunday, i’ll get some sleep then.”

you both turned your heads when you heard the sound of a door being opened echoed through the hallway followed by rhythmic footsteps. even though you and miles both knew the footsteps belonged to rio, the hallway was dark, so neither you or him could see her until she stepped into the living room. her hair was down instead of being braided or put into a ponytail like it usually was. she was trying to slide a hoop into the earring hole in one of her ears. she was in one of her fancier outfits.

"jeez, you kids been on the couch all day?"

“we went to the fair,” miles replied, a smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“oh really? explains the oversized oso on your bed. papa, didn’t you use to watch that one show… what was it called? spy oso?”

“special agent oso, mami,” miles corrected her, a hint of embarrassment fermenting in his voice. his teeth were clenched and his eyebrows were furrowed. “and that’s stitch, not a bear.”

you were stifling a laugh, one of your hands shielding the grin on your mouth while the other clutched your stomach. rio didn’t see, but miles did and he rolled his eyes at you.

“i left the snacks in your room, i’ll be right back," you told miles before you got up and disappeared down the hall.

“stitch? what’s a—” rio stopped herself and shook her head. “actually, never mind. how was the fair?”

miles answered her anyway. “it’s an alien, mom. from lilo and stitch. and the fair was good, we had a lot of fun. i can show you pictures later.”

“good,” rio smiled but then broke into a whisper. “miles, mejor la llevas a casa. don’t let that girl wander around all by herself at night.”

“alright, alright,” he put his hands up in defense. “you know i always take her home, calmáte.”

“alright, then. just making sure," rio retorted. "anyway, i’m in a hurry, i’m going to meet your dad, his coworker, and his coworker's wife somewhere. comportarse,” rio cautioned in a stern tone of voice, walking over to the couch and planting a kiss on her son’s cheek.

“i will,” miles promised as his mom hastily walked to the front door.

“tell [name] i’ll see her soon,” rio called out to miles before shutting the door.

a few moments later, you emerged from the shadows that lurked in the hall and took your seat next to miles on the couch. you scooted closer to him and pulled the blanket over both of your legs, handing him his bag of chips then opening your own. he hadn’t chosen something for you guys to watch yet.

“where’d your mom go?” you inquired, looking around.

“somewhere with dad,” miles answered, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. “she told me to say she’ll see you soon though.”

“aww,” you grinned. you really did love rio. you had to stop yourself from chuckling when you recalled her bringing up one of the shows miles used to watch as a kid. as hilarious as you found the whole thing, you held in your laugh anyway. you refocused your attention to the tv on the other side of the coffee table. it didn't take you long to realize that your beloved boyfriend still had yet to choose a movie to watch or a show to binge.

“what should we watch tonight?... homecoming?”

“jesus, no,” miles frantically shook his head, waving his arms around in a panic.

you were referring to beyoncé's 2018 coachella headlining performance movie. you’d made the boy watch the film with you more times than he could count on you two's twenty fingers combined. miles knew the name's every song being performed, the lyrics, and what order they were performed in. he had almost memorized all of the dance breaks, but not willingly. he swore that the word “homecoming” alone triggered some kind of ptsd. miles knew you too well. he was well aware that the renaissance movie would be a homecoming repeat, but maybe ten times worse. he'd been mentally preparing for that as well.

“booooo, you’re boring,” you frowned.

“thanksgiving is coming up, how about that one charlie brown movie?”

“only if we can binge christmas movies after.”

“deal.”

maybemymali ©

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[luveline]

JADE!!! Hi!

Could I request some birthday morning fluff with Eddie please? I’m gearing up to be delulu and single on Saturday 🥲

hello!!! I hope u have a good birthday and you enjoy!! 💓 fem!reader

Eddie made your cake himself. It tasted good when he tried the bits he shaved off, and he went very carefully as he iced it with buttercream, so it looks nice, too, with swirls from a poorly constructed piping bag and shift red cherries perched around the perimeter, 'Happy Birthday' in sloping font across the top. It isn't a professional result but it certainly isn't bad. 

He's very excited to share it with you. 

You're sitting at the table in a nice dress, though you asked him to stay home, and, much more shyly, asked him if he'd make you dinner. Eddie was more than happy to try, and even though the wine in the pasta didn't quite cook off, the garlic bread was perfect (as garlic bread tends to be) and you enjoyed it. He could tell. 

"You ready, beautiful?" he asks. 

"Yeah! It better be one of those triple layers with buttercream," you tease, "if you got me a cheapie we're gonna break up." 

"Yeah, right," he says. He puts the cake down on the table carefully, hand poised at the top of the blue plastic covering. 

He yanks it up. "Tada. Made by yours truly. The buttercream tastes good 'cos it's like, full butter, and the cake was good, but if you don't like it I can totally get you a fancy one from Leaven."

"You made me a cake?" you ask, pressing your lips together, your eyes watering. 

"Christ!" he says, putting the lid down to open his hands for shoulder grabbing. "Don't cry, what the fuck?" 

"You made me cake," you say, sniffing, blinking so the glassy eyes don't progress to tears. 

"Yeah, with love and everything, you wouldn't believe it. You're not supposed to cry, though," he says. 

"What am I supposed to do?" 

"Tell me how good it looks." 

He's bent at the waist to hold you, perfect height for your tight hug. You throw your arms around him, kissing his shoulder as you praise, "It looks amazing. I love you, I love you, you made me a cake." 

"You told me you wanted a homemade dinner, sweetheart." 

He nudges your head back, kisses the corner of your mouth, and steps away to grab a knife, forks, and plates. You make a happy sound and pull the cake toward you, your awe clear. It makes his heart race. 

Eddie offers you the knife. 

You take it but hesitate, knife an inch above the buttercream. "It's so perfect I don't want to ruin it. How long did it take you? It's amazing." 

"Nothings gonna make me happier than if you cut a piece and enjoy it," he says easily. It took him nine hours and that's not any of your business. 

You bite your lip but can't hide your smile as you cut a big wedge of cake, sliding it out on the flat of the knife to deposit onto your plate. One of the maraschino cherries falls off of a buttercream swirl. 

"Do you have a fork?" you ask. 

Eddie passes it over. Thrilled, you cut a mix of soft looking sponge and thick buttercream, too much for one mouthful, and take a bite. Your eyes flare wide, hand held over your mouth to say, "Eddie. So good! It's delicious, here." 

You offer him the rest of your forkful. He ducks down to eat it, and you're bluffing, it's not nice enough to look as happy as you do, but he loves you for loving it, and he's trying to kiss you before he's swallowed. You make a noise of disagreement with your mouth closed, but you melt a little at his kiss. 

"Happy birthday," he says adoringly. 

"Thank you." You take another fork of cake. "I can't believe you made me a cake, you dork. You're the best boyfriend in the world." 

"I thought that was what you wanted!" 

"This is exactly what I wanted." You can't seem to decide between cake or kisses, but eventually you choose cake, puckering up. "Thank you," you say again as he pulls away. 

"You're welcome. Are we sharing?" 

"No way! Get your own piece." 

He'd usually complain, but he's just happy you're happy. He grabs another plate and cuts his own slice without complaint. 

[into-deepspace]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request for Rafayel's reaction when MC comes out as non-binary? It's something that's never left my head since I started playing lnds. I can't help but worry if it'd change things for him even though I know it won't (insecurity did a number on me🥹). What if MC wanted to present themes as masc/femme? How would he react?

Sorry if this is too long and complicated and I understand if you don't want to write for this but if you do write it it'd mean the world to me. Thank you for reading this ask🌸🌸

aaa of course!!! dw it wasn't long or complicated at all! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i rlly hope i did rafayel justice here <33 i feel like it ended awkwardly but ah what can u do. anywayyyy:

as you are

rafayel/mc • nonbinary mc • 1.6k • ao3 link requests open, reblogs appreciated! mild hurt/comfort || coming out || tooth-rotting fluff || established relationship

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. “Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.

A couple hours later, laying in bed, MC watches Rafayel’s sleeping face with a soft smile. They never thought they’d be lucky enough for a relationship like this.

[buckysgrace]

Hiii, omg ur taking requests?? i LOVE ur writing sm aghh 😍😍❤️❤️ would u write part 2 to think about me? i adored it sm maybe the reader is sick (she has a fever and really bad cough) but is very horny so she calls gator who’s at work rn but he promises he comes as soon as he can? also her relationship with gator is secret and he comes over when her parents are gone with her little brothers for the weekend and gator takes care of her and also she’s so clingy? <3 and when she vomits in front of him she cries and is so embarrassed…

Part two to Think About Me (but could be read as a standalone lol)

Hope you enjoy! And thank you for enjoying my writing!! <3

CW: Age gap (reader is 20, gator is 27), mentions of smut but no actual smut, Gator being very sweet does that count??

Your relationship with Gator was, surprisingly, nice. He was sweet, brought you pretty flowers and your favorite chocolates. He messaged you first thing in the morning and before you went to bed. He was perfect. You were both perfect. Other than the fact that it had to be hidden.

Your father had made that clear on your birthday. The Tillman's had been invited over and apparently there had been enough tension between you and Gator to raise suspicions from your parents. Suddenly you were too young, too naive to have a boyfriend. You thought it was ridiculous.

You were excited for this weekend, having many things planned out for you and Gator. Your entire family would be gone. Some out of state football game happening for one of your brothers. You had feigned sickness.

Only that had seemed to be your downfall as the early Saturday hours slowly drifted into the afternoon. Your cough worsened, becoming more severe as your cheeks grew hot and sweaty. You brushed it aside, sure that it was your hard work from cleaning so furiously.

"Hello," The raspy voice on the other end of the line drew out playfully, bringing a smile to your lips as you sniffled again, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You said quickly, already hearing the worry in his tone, "Just some allergies. Do you think you could bring me something when you get off of work?"

"What kind of somethin'?" He teased, making you shift deeper into the couch as a giddy feeling spread through you. It was almost enough to make you neglect the sense of sickness you'd felt.

You thought of the habit he had to sneak into your room when everyone else was asleep, of all the sweet nights you'd had together. He liked kissing you. He liked kissing you everywhere. You were tingly at the thought once again.

"Don't know," You giggled softly as you curled up on the couch, smiling as you felt a rush of pleasure form between your legs at his words, "Something to make me feel better."

"I got the perfect cure for ya, baby doll," He teased, making you feel like you had thousands of butterflies spreading through your stomach, "Can you last a few more hours without me?"

"Mhm," You drew out softly, excited as you glanced back towards the kitchen. You had a crockpot full of chili on and had plans to make cinnamon rolls once he got closer. He liked those, especially when you added raisins to them, "I'll be waiting here for you."

Your plans became even more disrupted as your symptoms grew worse. You piled under blankets and blankets, unable to stop shivering despite how hot your face was. Every time you began to doze off your rough coughing awoke you, your lungs burning from the sensation.

"Hey," Gator's voice awoke you this time around, making your eyes snap open as you quickly sat up. He guided you slowly, holding onto your shoulders as you glanced at the time, "You alright?"

"I overslept," You wheezed out, sighing as you began to couch roughly once again, "Sorry. I was gonna make cinnamon rolls and-," You began to stand but gator gripped your shoulders and quickly sat you back down. You nodded your head, feeling like the house was spinning a little bit.

"You sick?" He mumbled as he brought his palm up against your forehead, then dragged it against your cheeks. You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders, "Where's the thermometer?"

"Um," You paused as you thought about it, "It's in the kitchen drawer. The second to the left." You said, sure of your answer. It hadn't been too long since you had to use it on one of your brothers.

Gator paused, pulling his paper bag open for a moment before he handed you a bag of cough drops and some nighttime cough syrup. You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how disgusting it would taste. You were still grateful though.

He gripped your chin softly with one hand when he approached again, then used the other to slide the thermometer under your tongue. You stared up at him, admiring the concentrated look on his features.

"Bite down," He instructed, making you blink in surprise before you did as he asked. He smirked a little, looking a little cocky as he flicked his eyes from your features and back to the numbers on the screen. He whistled, making your eyes snap up to him, "I'm gonna get you something to bring that down." He mumbled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen again.

"I made us chili," You replied, feeling like it wasn't that big of a deal to have a little fever, "I thought we could watch a movie. I got new pajamas too."

"You did?" He approached again, wearing a smile this time as he placed some pills in one of your palms and a glass of water in the other, "Drink that." You nodded along, doing what he instructed in hopes that you would feel better.

"I wanted it to be a good night," You replied, doing your best to keep from pouting as he unwrapped a cough drop for you next, "Thanks." You said softly as you popped it in your mouth, sucking on it a few times before you began to chew on it. It was a habit. You couldn't help it.

"It still can be," He mentioned offhandedly, as he brushed his fingers across your cheek, "I'll get us chili. You sit here. Uh, here." He paused as he handed you the remote, sending you a soft smile before he went on his way.

Your stomach twisted at the thought of food, so you set your bowl aside and curled up against him instead. He held you close, keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you in tightly.

Your felt a little better curled up to his side, head resting against his shoulder as you drifted in and out of sleep. He was warm, giving you that comfort you needed as he held onto you close. Occasionally you'd hear him chuckle, which you hoped had to do with whatever he was watching and not the fact that you were sure you were snoring.

A cold sweat woke you up this time, making you pull away from Gator as your stomach twisted and turned in odd directions. You glanced at him for just a moment, noticing that he had somehow slipped into his sleep clothes at some point.

"You alright?" He asked as he brushed his palm across your back, rubbing softly as a bitter taste filled your mouth. You felt your eyes widen as you quickly stood, tripping over your own feet as you stumbled into the bathroom.

You made it just in time as you emptied the contents from your stomach into the toilet. You continued to gag for a moment, wishing that you could've shut the door first.

You felt his hands on your back before you heard his sweet reassurances. You held onto the counter for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you suddenly felt hot tears against your cheeks. This was not how you wanted your night with him to go.

"Hey," His voice was soft and warm, smooth like sugar as he continued to rub at your back. It was a little too hard, like he didn't know what he was doing, "It's alright. Just a little puke." He replied, like it was no big deal.

You wiped your mouth, sniffling as you flushed the toilet and sat back on your knees for a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening to the sound of gagging from next to you.

"Fuck," Gator replied as he held his palm over his mouth, shaking his head quickly, "I'm sorry. Shit. Fuck, I'm fine. Really." He nodded his head, but looked a little pale as he rubbed at your back.

"You're fine," You replied as you sniffled, laughing once again as you shook your head, "I understand. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that." You sighed as you stood onto shaky knees, gripping your toothbrush before you scrubbed your mouth clean.

"How about-," He began slowly as he adjusted your pajama shirt, covering up your exposed skin as his eyes met yours in the mirror, "I run a bath for you. How does that sound?"

You paused as you spit into the sink, satisfied that you could only taste mint as you slowly stood to look at him again. You nodded your head, feeling a little shy suddenly as he guided you upstairs.

His hand was warm in yours, strong as he held onto you tightly. Once you were inside the bathroom he got the water to the desired temperature before he slowly stripped you down.

His eyes still wandered, but not in a suggestive way. He admired you, making your heart thump roughly against your bones as he helped you into the tub.

You sank down into the water, sighing at the way the hot water massaged your tense muscles. Gator stood back for just a moment before he crawled in behind you.

He hummed softly before he pulled you back against him, pulling you close as he pressed his chest against your back. It was intimate, far more intimate than the times he'd been buried between your legs. You'd never had him be this sweet before, this caring.

You supposed your night wasn't all that bad after all.

[saltofmercury]

hi may i please request a könig fluff please? this week has been the hardest for me to get through and its only wednesday, i just wanna be comforted by your writing ˙◠˙

Something is definitely in the sky right now and I don't want to go all astrology but it's weighing heavily on me too! I hope you ended the week on a better note than me, I hope this week goes great for you and you find five dollars or they pay for your coffee :)

Here's something that has been sitting in my drafts forever and I hope it delivers!

"Notes"

His face turned red, it had scrunched, crinkled forming in the corners of his eyes, his brows pushed together. His huge body was bent over, holding his stomach, he had been wheezing for a while now. He had been laughing nonstop. Breathless, small attempts at inhales, but he couldn’t get anything out.

“Say it again, say it again please.”

You had sucked in your cheeks, your face a couple shades redder than him, baffled by what you said. It wasn’t that funny. However König took it as a punch line.

You had been riding in the car ride back from the errands you two had accomplished this wonderful Saturday morning. He had just got back from a mission, and needed to go get honey. It had been a great morning, walking around the farmers market just you two in your own world.

After mentally checking your list in your head about what you guys had to stop and do, you reminded him that he had to stop by the pharmacy to pick up his inhaler. He had thanked you, busting a u-turn in the intersection.

“Goodness schatz I almost forgot.”

“I have a pornographic memory you know.”

You shifted in your seat, your eyes bulging out of your sockets, the warmth of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks.

He had snorted, then started laughing so hard that he almost swerved into the other lane. 

“Pornographic?” he had wheezed out of his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

He pulled into the pharmacy, parked in the space, and held his stomach with both hands.

“Schatz I swear to god, what is wrong with you?” He wiped the tears from his eyes.

He got out of the car and then began to walk in, his boisterous laugh echoing from the entrance of the store.

You sat in the car, mortified that you had said that out loud. Ever since he got back from his mission it seemed like you had spoken too fast, or your mouth wanted to speak but your brain had missed three steps and you fumbled what you wanted to say.

He walked back outside, laughing still, jugging his inhaler, sour peach rings, and condoms.

He stepped inside the car, physically making the car dip. Turning towards you, he said

“Here I got you candies, and condoms for your pornographic mind later.”

The entire car ride home seemed as if it was the funniest thing you said.

“Alright I get it! It wasn’t that funny!”

“You’ve got porno on your brain, and you expect me not to laugh?”

As you arrived home, he carried the bags inside as you rushed to the bathroom.

You came out of the bathroom and he had been typing on his phone. Being afraid he was being pulled out of your life again, you carefully asked him.

“Are you being taken away again?”

He peered up from the phone, with a confused face.

“What?”

You fiddled with your flannel and asked again, 

“Are they taking you again? On a mission?”

“No schatzi I just got back” He put his arm around you, crushing you, then leaned down to kiss you. 

“Oh, I just thought, because you never touch your phone.”

It was one thing that König left behind. His phone. He had never brought it on missions, telling you to hold onto it. It was on the rare occasion he was treated to a safe base hosted by the military, that he brought it with him. 

You never peeked at his phone, not that you needed to, König was an open book with you about everything except his job.

But you couldn’t help the ugly thoughts that crept up into your stomach. Almost as if he sensed it he came to reassure you.

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you,”

He had opened up the notes app on the phone and then bit his lip.

“I… uh.. I write down funny things you say on this note.”

He passed the phone to you and then proceeded to sit down at the table, pulling you to his lap as you went down the list.

The list was long, some things you remembered saying, other times you did not remember saying these things at all.

You peered at him,

“Why do you have these written down?” You felt like it was a little bit personal, him keeping a list of embarrassing things you said.

He sensed how protective you were, and then sheepishly admitted,

“When I’m on base and I miss you, I open this list up and I… uh”

He had rubbed a hand over his hair, embarrassed that he had shown you the list.

“I just read over these things and I remember what I get to come home to.”

He took the phone from you and then started smiling.

“You remembered that time I baked a pie and you had come home from work and said,

‘can I finger this?’”

You blushed, the warm apple pie he had baked had been overfilled, gooing, and oozing cinnamon and apples in the middle and you couldn’t contain your mouth watering.

“I was hungry.”

“Your mind is too sexual, why would you finger a pie?”

You had blushed even more, remembering that you really wanted to just swipe the top of the pie with your finger, however your brain had lost translation with your tongue, making you say something else instead.

“This one is really funny, remember when I asked you to read aloud the board game instructions?”

“No?”

“You had said this is the epi-tohm of fun… but it was really.. the epitome of fun?”

You laughed at this one. 

“SHUT UP! English is hard!” you said.

“What about the time that we made burgers and you said wash your sister sauce instead of worcestershire sauce?”

“That I can’t take responsibility for that one…” you had remembered seeing that on a video, thinking it was much easier than saying ‘worcestershire’ sauce.

“Either way, I love how your brain works sometimes.”

Admiration in his eyes, his mouth had been curved on both ends, happy, giddy even, sharing these moments he had kept of you on his phone. 

“There are times you talk in your sleep, you argue with the honey lady at the farmers market.”

You knew you had talked in your sleep, your family and friends telling you that they sometimes had conversations with you unconsciously. König never brought it up though. He never once mentioned you talking in your sleep.

“What do I say?”

He had let out a small laugh, and then said 

“You always tell her to please sell you the one with the honeycomb inside, it’s for your boyfriend.”

The last word he had said it to tease you, make you blush, but the way his smile had peaked on his face, was the only indication of how much he liked the sound of it too. Though he would never admit it to you. The two of you smiling at one another made him realize how much he missed home, how much he loved talking to you while sleeping, and hearing you say things you never second guessed to say. He always knows he never second guessed with you either.

[thissortofsorcery]

Hiii, Gabii 💕

For the soft fic prompt meme:

14. Phone calls

and/or

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

Thank you 🫶

YAM I FINISHED IT

I'm sorry it took me so damn long to fill this prompt for you. I know you like it when they're soft! I hope you like this one.

--

Steve never feels more grown-up than when he and Billy cook together.

It started during senior year — as a dare, of all things. They weren’t even together then, Billy hiding behind a wall of toxic masculinity to protect himself from Neil. He still tracked Steve’s every movement with his eyes. Steve was completely oblivious to his feelings and why his gut twisted every time Billy gave girls that look of his.

“I doubt you can cook anything with the shit you got in your house, pretty boy,” Billy had said, lip curling derisively at the content of Steve’s fridge. “When’s the last time you bought groceries?” 

Steve proceeded to cook the best improvised scramble he’d ever done out of sheer determination to make Billy eat his words. He’d had no idea it would turn out good when he started. Usually, his cooking attempts had a 50/50 chance of turning out wonderful or having to be tossed based on the smell alone.

Two years later, and Steve’s a lot better at cooking. He can make all the basics and some fancy stuff, too, with Billy or on his own — but the favorite meals are the ones he and Billy cook together, arms brushing, hips bumping each other out of the way, spoons being offered to taste. 

Cooking together is mostly a weekend thing since their shifts end hours apart. Steve’s used to fixing something up quick when he gets home from work so it’s ready by the time Billy is done at the garage. Saturday and Sunday are the days they go all out.

So Steve is caught off guard when his phone rings fifteen minutes before his shift ends on a Wednesday, and it’s Billy calling.

“I wanna try making Ceviche,” is what Billy says, skipping the ‘hello’ and going straight to the point. “So, do you want fish or shrimp?” 

“You want to make what?” Steve frowns, barely recognizing the name. He flails toward his work computer to open Google, but he doesn’t know how to spell it out. “Wait, where are you?” 

“At the grocery store, Harrington. Keep up,” Billy snarks affectionately. “It’s, like, cooking fish with lemon juice. It’s great.” 

“What are you doing at the grocery store?” 

“I got off work early. Fish or shrimp, Steve, come on.” 

“You know how to make this thing?” Steve says. He’s known Billy long enough that he doesn’t doubt Billy’s cooking skills, but he’s never heard of this dish before or that Billy had and liked it. 

“Yeah, pretty boy, it’s called YouTube. It has cherry tomatoes in it; you like those.” 

Steve grins. “I do,” he says. “Go with fish, I guess.” 

“Great,” Billy says and hangs up immediately. Steve smiles at his phone for no reason.

He’s home half an hour later, and he finds Billy at the kitchen counter already, dicing up the fish fillets into little cubes. Billy’s freshly showered, his work clothes traded for soft sweatpants and a tank top. Steve stops to admire the curve of his strong shoulders and the swell of his biceps, his eyes following the familiar expanse of golden skin that still makes his heart flutter years later.

“Hey,” Steve says, announcing himself as he enters the kitchen, so Billy has time to put the knife down before Steve hugs him from behind. Steve buries his nose in Billy’s shoulder, breathing deeply. Billy leans back against him, humming contentedly as Steve strokes Billy’s sides. 

“Hi,” Billy says. “I’d hug you back, but my hands are gross.” 

Steve kisses Billy’s shoulder and snorts. “It’s fine. How can I help?” 

“Can you get started on the garlic?” Billy directs. Steve follows, and they fall into a familiar dance in their tiny kitchen, sharing counter space and anecdotes about their days.

Cooking together is peaceful, the way few things in their lives have been, and Steve lets the feeling of home and family wash over him. His shoulders relax, and the headache that’s been threatening to bloom in his right temple fades away, insignificant in the face of Billy’s laughter at Steve’s impressions of his coworkers. 

A light touch to Steve’s forehead makes him blink. He looks away from the lemons he’s squeezing to find Billy brushing away a lock of hair that had started poking Steve in the eye the second he got lemon juice all over his hands. Billy’s hand is light, his fingertips soft as he tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear, and a pleasant shiver goes down Steve’s spine. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, a dumb smile on his face. Billy’s eyes are soft, watching Steve with familiar warmth. 

“Anytime, pretty boy.” 

The quiet, gentle gesture spreads warmth in Steve’s chest, down his spine, down his arms, all the way to his sticky fingertips. There have been thousands of them over the years they’ve been together, but they never fail to make Steve blush and duck his head like a preteen. They’re affectionate with each other really often, but there’s something about finding the space to have these little moments in the middle of doing mundane, everyday things that strikes a deep chord in Steve. 

“I love you.” The words escape Steve’s lips, the reflection of a feeling so natural to him that they’re behind every other sentence he says. 

The corner of Billy’s mouth ticks up, expression morphing into what used to be a smug smirk when he was younger, and now is a soft, fond expression that’s only ever aimed at a very select group of people.

“Sap,” is what Billy says, but the warmth in his tone is clear. 

“I know you like it,” Steve teases, smiling.

“What I’d like is for you to be done with those lemons,” Billy snarks, his elbow brushing Steve’s.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’m done.” 

When they’re finished, and the glass tray is in the fridge, Billy pulls Steve to the couch so they can make out for the hour it takes for the lemon juice to cook the fish. And it comes out pretty damn good — though Steve’s pretty sure he’s biased, only because he and Billy made it together.

[spacecasette]

Bolt the Horse — c h a p t e r o n e

@madsmilfelsen for u my angel ♡

In the summer of 2011, she wore her hair in two braids down her back, and spent a not insignificant amount of time on barstools. The air was humid as a clenched fist and humming, so the most she could do to alleviate it was with a Miller High Life in hand, shorts admittedly a touch too short for lookin', and nothing better than trouble to get done. It was in this way she found herself in a bar without a ride home in the pouring September rain.

She was not, in her 25th year, looking for any kind of trouble she could not feasibly get into on her own. She felt as if she could do enough of the fucking up by herself, thank you kindly, and did not take well to anyone who didn't seem like they could handle that.

Rust Cohle, as it turns out, could kind of handle it. At least, she notices, he can handle most things– the exceptions being exceptional humidity and obvious displays of misplaced hubris. They watch each other often; her slyly from atop her barstool, and him openly from wherever he stood behind the bar. It seemed like a lot of the time he could hardly stomach her sitting close to him at all, even when they were across the room. Once, when she was admittedly a little too drunk for a girl who was meant to be in charge of herself, she dropped a shot glass and nearly fell from her perch trying to retrieve the shattered pieces. She looked up to find his stare already fixed on her, whites showing in his eyes like a frightened dog. He was by her side in an instant, batting her hands away and calling her a "messy little thing", which she would have found insulting, if it weren't a little too accurate. But then he checked her palms for cuts and held his hand between the bar and her head when she got up, so she couldn't be too sure he didn't just feel bad for her. She would take it though, either way it was offered. She would never tell him to his face, but she was getting lonely out at her grandparents' house with only the coyotes for company. She liked too much being around to ever tell him to quit barking at her or rolling his eyes when she asked for a pen to do her crosswords with.

It's a Saturday night the first time she loses her grip. Condensed down to one or fifteen seconds, when she laughs loud at something another regular has said. At the sound of air pressed forcefully through Rust's nose in a poor imitation of a laugh, she looks up at him. Her glassy, liquor-slicked eyes, pupils big as the fuckin' moon, begging and begging with no end in sight. Her gaze darting over his face like she can't quite decide where best to fix it– and goddammit if that doesn't just tear him all up inside.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?" He asks, and another of those half-not-laughs falls out.

"Dunno, Rust, wanna find out over dinner sometime?" she fires it back so quick it leaves him a little stunned, a fish whacked out of water. In lieu of a reply, he slides her beer away from her and sets a glass of water down in its place, though she pouts prolifically when he does.

"Prob'ly better if you get on home, little doggy, " he says, soft and condescending even with a corner of his mouth turned up the way it is.

"'M not little anymore, Rust, fuck's sake," she mumbles, taciturn and petulant even this deep in her drink.

"Go get some air, girl, I'll be out quick to drive you home," he tells her, casual like he didn't already know she'd been hoping and wishing for it all night, "and don't go pitching a fit about it. 'S fuckin' pourin' out there and you'd drown yourself in a thimble of rain if I don't."

The screen door in front slams quickly, and will catch you in the back of the head if you're not quick about getting in before it. Dani doesn't tell him this because she is very busy with falling over the threshold in a fit of giggles, bride to her own amusement at Rust having to shuffle her in like someone's feeble old grandma. He is rather short of patience at this hour, and she can feel herself dancing over top his last nerve, but she finds it honestly pretty funny so she makes a lot of stupid faces and asks twice if he'll tuck her in. She's not been sleeping in a bed in the house because they all make her feel a little too sad lately, so she makes a bee line for the couch in the center of the front room, like a rock face she's dead set to crashing on. Rust lets her fall into it– helps her, even, letting loose his grip on her arms to let her splay onto the cushions and roll her ruddy cheek down deep in the throw pillow. Her hair stuck to her face and her breathing slightly shallow, his fingers itch with the desire to check her pulse, to fret over her. Instead he keeps his hands to himself and watches, impassive, as she makes a valiant attempt at rucking her shorts down over her knees to kick them off, making no effort to help. His watching feels like something else, she thinks sluggishly, like a hot lick of fever climbing down her spine and sticking there as a burr would. When she notices him staring, she offers up her dopiest, softest smile, and slurs

"Rust. If you're gonna stand there all night, I won't stop you but first could you go grab me some sleep shorts out of the chester draws? First door on the left at the top of the stairs," she swallows, thick as honeyed night, "please."

The wiry automaton of his body clicks into action: mouth softly closing, limbs lurching into their movement, all economy and surprise.

He returns with her gray shorts, ratty things with the elastic long gone to dust, and sets them down on the coffee table. He turns around, all precious and respectful now that they're alone, and lets her put them on.

When he hears her settle and finally turns around, it's to find her already asleep, her cheeks flushed and limbs spread across the sofa like a child exhausted from the heat.

Sunday morning, she awoke neatly tucked under an afghan with a glass jar of water and two ibuprofen on the coffee table in front of her. Looking at the clock above the door, cogs clicking in the dim apartment of her skull, she realized with quite a start that if she wasn't dressed and ready in exactly 7 minutes, she was going to be rather unfashionably late for Sunday service.

Imagining the looks of misplaced pity from the faces of grandmothers and their daughters and their daughters' daughters was enough to light a decent fire under her ass. She dressed quickly, brushed her sticky teeth to rid them of the scent of stale beer and Black Velvet and was out the door toward the truck with 30 seconds to spare. Her hair, regrettably, was a mouse nest when she checked it in the rearview.

On the drive in, she remembered vaguely that Rust had brought her home late last night but had not, thankfully, stuck around quite long enough for her to embarrass herself any further than she had expected to. She had come to know herself when drinking anything harder than a Shirley temple to be rather childish, with an attitude and a neediness about her to rival some mothers' babies. She could be a sore loser when Robert would walk her like a dog in Rummy, and would play too many Mel Carter songs in a row on the jukebox. This last behavior never failed to put a very unreadable look on Rust's face, like she was leading herself to the gallows & he knew it. There was nothing to be done about her nature now, she supposed, except to apologize to whomever had to suffer it. Used to be her grandparents would correct her, sometimes sternly, but she could always weasel her way out of trouble if she put on the right pair of puppy eyes– now there was no one to set her straight over their knee and make her see sense.

Service was a fine, if a little lengthy, affair with a lot of the old biddies fanning themselves in the heat and cooing over her bruised up knees. She explained (falsely) that she had been moving some of Papa's things back in from the shed, and, arms full, had tripped up the porch steps. Feeling a little poorly about lying in church, she reasoned that telling them she'd come home drunk and tripped over her own threshold would have been inappropriate pew chatter, so it was okay for her to bend the truth into a sweeter shape once in a while.

Leaving church, she decided to stop by Hank's for groceries– mostly because she wanted something to make her feel productive, though she knew she was bound to spend her afternoon (and likely evening) walking around in the creek and reading on the porch. She was clear out of bread, and running dangerously low on the honey cereal she'd taken a liking to. Eggs, she knew, she could trade a neighbor for, so she treated herself to an orange dreamsicle in their place. When she was younger, and Mammy would take her here, she never said no to books or puzzles, but could always deny her granddaughter candy or toys. Now, it seemed, Dani had more books than she could reasonably read in years, and was of the mind that denying herself pleasure of this kind was a punishment she had not earned.

In the breakfast aisle, a feeling not dissimilar to a flight response catches her by the tail of her hair and will not let her go. She moseys slow like, taking her time to draw him out, entertaining herself with all the little barbs she might stick him with. Things like "you followin' me, mister?" or "funny meetin' you here, I thought you lived off coffee, cigarettes, and switch grass." But she didn't really have anything too smart to say when he finally sidled up next to her while she was fretting over cereal.

Her eyes darted to his hands, slung under the weight of the blue basket in his grip– sinewy, calloused– and then up to his shirt collar, chin, face, then eyes. She had to take it in little leaps else she'd get shy and find a way to leave before she'd said her piece.

"'M sorry you had to see me home last night. Didn't mean to get ornery, so. It won't happen again." It's soft, coming out her mouth, like they were the only people in the room.

"'S alright, just seems like someone oughta look after you once in a while," he says, just as quiet, as if talking to himself. The hum of the lights gets a little too loud and she can't quite think all the way, so her words come out rushed,

"How come you don't go to church?"

"I don't really fuss about with god." This surprises her, for some reason. She felt she knew his way, a little, how he looked at everything through the lens of dutiful futility. It stands to reason he wouldn't really bother with something so nebulous and unfixed, but for all she knows he's a thing flung straight down from outer space so she doesn't follow the thought too far.

"Well, me neither, except I like the singing, and Mammy always made me go. Just seems like the thing to do, I guess. Don't you got a thing you do? Just 'cause you feel like you're supposed to?"

"Unfortunately, sweetheart, everything I do is 'cause I'm supposed to."

Then they don't talk, for what feels like a whole winter but is really only a minute. She finds her prize on the shelf and quickly puts it in her basket, looking at her shoes until she finds the nerve to speak again,

"I'm trying to be your friend, Rust. Are you gonna let me, or are you gonna keep up this whole 'mysterious old man with a vendetta against fun' thing?"

He chuckles at that, but doesn't exactly answer.

"Look, I'm gonna be gone a while. Not long, should be back towards the middle of the week, but I want you to stay home. I mean that. Don't come by the bar, don't go anywhere I wouldn't know to find you, okay? You stay outta trouble and we'll talk about being friends when I get back."

She rolls her eyes at the implication that she couldn't handle life and its spinning without him herding her about.

"Fine. But when you get back, you owe me a beer and a game of rummy. And you can't pawn me off on Bob, either, I'm starting to think it's personal."

"Deal." They shake hands, and he's gone. When she finally quits looking down at her hand where he held it, she grabs her milk and butter, pays the kid at the till, and heads home.

Dani knows, for the most part, how to behave. She spent so long having so little reason to lash out that the muscle memory of trouble making had practically atrophied by the time she turned 19. She spends her first day at home reorganizing the bookshelves in the living room by genre, which eats up a good 3 hours after breakfast and fills her with a terribly pleased feeling to boot. By then, she's ready for a simple lunch of a ham and cheese sandwich with an entire sleeve of tollhouse crackers, which she eats on the porch with a can of pepsi beside her. The cicadas do their screeching song all day, and when she wanders out into the yard, she finds one of their molts clung to the trunk of a live oak. Papa's voice floats into her head, and she is thrown face-first into a memory of them gathered in the kitchen one early morning, heads bowed in little prayer to examine the bugs and moths he'd pinned to a paper towel on the counter. He'd told her about the dog day cicadas, how they sleep for 7 years and come alive to feed, breed, scream, and die. He'd pointed out the luna moth, its wings frayed and flaked where he'd handled it with a little carelessness. It had looked so graceful and serene, laying with its wings fanned and pinned apart with mammy's pearl-headed sewing pins. She remembers the sadness she'd felt when he had told her they lacked mouths, and existed only by the grace of whatever nutrients they'd ingested as caterpillars. She felt a bit like that now, catapulted into life without them in the span of a year, and with no way to cherish them except in reverse. Reduced to a thing that wanted, with no way of asking.

Dani spent the rest of the first day ambling through the trees looking for bugs and leaves and interesting bits she might save to keep the memory of summer alive when the rain came and the sun stayed away longer. At night, she ate buttered noodles and pinned her findings in a shadowbox she'd gutted, hunched over the kitchen table tweezing antennae and legs into place. When she felt herself growing sleepy, she walked the few paces to the sofa, and fell onto it with all the grace of a foal in its first hours. She dreamt that night that she'd forgotten her name, and was standing in the middle of her empty high school.

The second day passed much differently– the hours stretched their long fingers out toward the sun and took their dandy time to pass. She was restless, and it was hot, and she felt a searching inside her that could not be sated by any of the near dozen books she tried out. By 1pm she was packing a small lunch (ham and cheese again, with the last sleeve of crackers) and walking back through the trees behind the house to the creek. Toeing off her shoes and slipping off her dress, she slipped down into that cool, murky wet. She floated on her back in the middle a while, watching the canopy shiver apart to let the sunlight through in lacelike patterns on the surface of the water. Eventually, she uprighted herself and walked along the bank looking for a salamander or a frog, something alive she might find companionship with. It ended up being fruitless, which ratcheted up that irritable itch and culminated in a single misstep over an algae-slicked stone and sent her straight down backward onto her ass. Her eyes welling with frustrated tears, she laid there stunned with her tailbone throbbing something fierce for a good ten minutes. When her self pity ran dry and she remembered she was the only one around who could kiss it better, she gathered up the lunch she'd neglected to eat and went straight back to the house for a hot shower, or perhaps a nap on the sofa.

She woke around 6pm with all her bones feeling fused together at the joints, and a small puddle of drool on the throw pillow beneath her cheek. It was with a sense of delirious urgency that she climbed from her makeshift bed and upstairs to the bathroom, and upon flicking the light, noticed her hair had dried down in such a horrendous tangle she sat down on the floor and started to cry. She cried because she missed her Mammy and her Papa, because her body hurt, and because she was struck with the painfully sudden and obvious realization that she really was on her own now. She cried because she felt stupid, and small, and rather lonely here in this house she loved but felt guilty being in for some reason.

Eventually, the tide of her sobbing had slowed and she crawled over to the drawer to fish out her hairbrush, and set about making sense of the nest that had settled on her head. When it was done, and with great effort at that, she turned on the shower as boiling hot as it would go, and sat herself down to spend the better part of half an hour feeling put out and morose before she even picked up the shampoo. It was a quick affair after that, as she didn't really love having pruny fingers.

The boredom reaches a fever pitch around 10:30, untempered by two failed attempts at knitting and one batch of lemon muffins. Everything Dani has done in the last fourteen hours to restore a sense of normalcy has come spitting furiously back into her face, and she really truly feels like something in her is fixing to hatch. It's beginning to feel like an undoing, and she's uncomfortable, so she laces up her stupid shoes and walks the stupid half-mile to Doumain's. She curses Rust the whole way, scrunches up her nose and spits at his voice in her head telling her to stay put, like a dog that don't know any better than to leap out the door. She feels hot and itchy again, and she made up promises– one she did try hard to keep, but again her nature won out– and he said he'd be back by mid week. It's coming on 11 on a Tuesday, so she reckons she's close enough to compliance for fulfilling her end of a crummy deal. And anyway, she's fighting mad for nothing and wants a beer and a furious game of cards with Bob to soften up all the little hard upset parts of her.

When she arrives, it's unnaturally rowdy for a weeknight. The pool tables are full, and there isn't a spot for her at the bar until she catches Bob's eye and he makes another regular– Mason, her useless brain supplies– move out of the way to let her claim her usual spot. No crosswords tonight, she sets a deck of cards and a wad of folded ones on the bar-top between them. The other bartender is here tonight in Rust's place– she's only ever seen him once, and he wasn't all that nice, but neither is Rust, so her demeanor doesn't have to change all that much after all. She orders a tallboy of Lonestar and a shot of Black Velvet because no one will stop her, and she can't help herself, especially now. Bob gives her a sidelong look she's seen before, one that says she's skating on thin fuckin' ice, but she knocks back her shot like it owes her rent without meeting his eye. Her evening irons back out and starts to feel normal, if a little lackluster since Rust isn't around for her to pester and push. She really did think she might get away with coming here despite her instructions until one of those stupid dishwater-blond fucks– Amos or Andrew, the one with too-green eyes– comes over and starts inching in on her, thinking she won't notice. She tried out doing the right thing, angling her body away from him hoping he'd get the message and go find his luck somewhere else. He doesn't. Instead, he uses a knee to turn the seat of her seat of her barstool around to face him and says,

"What're you doin' over here all by your lonesome, baby? Come play with us, I'll buy you a fruity little drink if you want, somethin' to wet that," he looks down at her mouth, leans close and lecherous and rancid, "whistle."

"No, thank you. Bob and I are gonna play some cards, you're gonna go circle jerk with your friends, and we'll steer nice and clear of each other." Her brows and fingers knit together, holding herself in by the edges because she's honestly a little afraid she might bite him or scream or throw something. His answering smile comes, satisfied and too close for comfort that it makes something in her burn scalding and bright.

"Oh, come on, don't be such a sourpuss. Go a round with us and we'll see where the night takes us, hmm?"

Her fist connects with his left orbital socket before she even decides it should. His whole body ripples away at the impact– the desired effect– and while on his back foot she watches his eyes widen with the realization. Then he's on her, screaming and aiming for her neck. Dani feels, in this moment, a far off panic. Fights never really found her too easily, since she had a habit of keeping to herself (except, obviously, on this occasion). It's all she can do to flail about with closed fists until something lands or someone steps in to free her. And intervene, someone does: Mason, who despite having his seat stolen not twenty minutes ago comes to her rescue by pulling the kid off her by his collar like a rowdy kitten. She lies there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, until Mason's face floats into her periphery and she's pulled to sitting. Her face feels sticky and hot all over, and her lashes are clumped together making it hard to blink up at the few faces looking down at her. She finds Bob's eyes, and the first words out of her mouth are,

"Please don't tell Rust."

He laughs, shakes his head, and offers her a hand which she takes to stand on her wobbly legs. Assuming she's being shown the door, she heads that direction only to be stopped by a hand on the crook of her elbow. She turns to face Bob, and his face is caught between a look of wonder and pity. He nods toward the back door, and she follows, head turned down towards her shoes. The soundtrack to Tuesday night clicks back to life and everyone goes back to their business as they exit the building. He fumbles with the spigot on the wall, and his hankie is removed, wetted, then used to roughly dab the drying blood off her lips and nose. Even in the bare moonlight, she sees it come away dark. She's heard Bob speak on so few occasions, she nearly misses it when he mumbles,

"Don't you go pickin' fights you don't know goddamn well how to win, missy. You're lucky Rust ain't here, he'd have probably hauled off and killed that kid." Her face burns at that, and not from the cut.

"I-I'm sorry, Bob, really. I just-he was being gross and it kinda happened before I knew any different what my hands were up to. Won't happen again, you know I'm not that type of girl."

He doesn't reply, but the "maybe you oughta think about that first next time" hangs in the air, limp and useless now.

He lets her into an apartment attached to the bar near the back door, which she sort of knew about but assumed was where he lived. There was hardly anything in it– no dishes on the sink or mess on the counters– until they got to the bedroom. The only evidence she could see that would lead her to believe it was occupied was a full-sized mattress on the floor, covered in a white flat sheet, and a pile of Louisiana history text books in the corner beneath the window.

"Sleep it off in here for tonight. There's a quilt in the hall closet if you need it, and the washroom's just next door."

He's gone out the door before she can thank him. She looks at the bed, and the moonlight coming through the blinds onto it. She could sleep, she thinks. She should. Grabbing the quilt from the hall closet– hard to miss, it was the only thing in there– she wraps it around herself, toes off her shoes, and lays down on the bed. Curled on her side, stray tears dripping across the still-bloody bridge of her nose onto the sheet, she falls asleep.

Rust gets home at 3:27AM, and Bob is waiting up for him, smoking a cigarette at the bar. It's not exactly uncommon, but he's usually back a little closer to sunrise and the time Bob usually gets up for the day, so he cocks his head to a 45° and asks,

"What're you doin up so late?"

"Just don't say I never told you nothin'."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Robert. Goodnight."

"Suit yourself," he mutters, "shitheel."

Rust rolls his eyes but goes to unlock the door to his apartment without further comment. His keys clatter on the breakfast nook, and when he pads into the bedroom he finds her there, face crusted up with snot and dried blood. He finds her there, asleep on his mattress on the floor with her hands tucked up under her chin like a pair of swans. Close together, too, as if they were in quiet conversation about the day they'd had. He sighs, deeply, and heads back out to the sofa.