#i never actually expected something like this to happen but i do really feel grateful !!

[jd-loves-fiction]

Coming back to you with another request cuz I loved your previous work

Boothill, Welt, Ratio, Jing Yuan and Gallagher with the same platonic teen reader premise but reader calls them ,,Dad" on accident and they themselves don't even notice it because it comes so naturally to them

🌑so glad you liked it🥺🥺also the dad's of all time yes yes!! Also my internet has been fucked lately that's why uploads are slow sowy 🥺

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

If you look at his lore, he was actually a dad (😭 my Shayla) so yeah big chance he won't notice at all

Because of the trauma associated with his family in general, he'll notice it eventually and be a bit conflicted

On one hand, he's absolutely delighted at the fact that despite being almost entirely made of metal, you are still able to find such fundamentally human comfort within him

And on the other hand, he has a hard time accepting that the man he was before didn't actually die along with most of his body

He won't ever correct you tho, at the end of the day he's just grateful that he's still able to make young folk feel safe around him

Reminds him that he's still human🥺

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Did you see the way he basically adopted Sunday the moment he stepped on the express?? Yeah, that's dad right there

He basically adopts every kid (as in, anyone younger than him) that steps aboard the express, so i feel like someone else might've already called him before and he just brushed it off

Same with you, though in his heart he's over the moon

All he wants in life is to make everyone around him feel safe and loved, so to know that you of all people seem to think of him in such a way really warms his heart

Though he'll never point it out in fear of making you embarrassed

He's overjoyed!! But internally :)

✦ 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 ✦

Truly baffled, at first

He's aware of his reputation and he doesn't mind it but he never expected someone to him that way

Though he's (not so) secretly very pleased

At his core, he's a teacher and that's what he loves to do - spread knowledge to all who seek it

And I'm sorry for reminding you of this but most of us have called our teacher mom/dad before so...

There's a slight chance it's happened before... also a slight chance he very dryly corrected them - "last time i checked i have no children" 🙄

Might do the same to you unless he's in one of his moods, writing down information or just lost in thought - then he'll probably just wave you away wordlessly

I feel like he understands on a behavioral level why you did it and because of it, wont comment on it or bring it up again. It's just something people do sometimes, nothing weird about it

The most neutral out of all of them but will make a mental note about how it probably means you trust him at least a little

When he lets himself be selfish and overthink it, it does warm his heart but you'll never know

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Actual father to Yanqing YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND!!

Ooooh he's tearing his hair out trying not to tease you about it

He knows that if he does you'll crawl back in your shell again and thats tHEEE last thing he wants in life, really

It's easy to feel comfortable around him, i feel. He's just a big lazy cat - pretty independent and chill

He's good at just being there when you need him there as well as talking your ear off as a distraction - peak comfort

Definately called Jingliu 'mom' as a kid, come on

And Yanqing did the same with him

So it doesnt surprise him much since he understands its a pretty normal thing but GOOOOD he wants to acknowledge it so BAAADD

HE WANTS TO MAKE IT SILLY BUT NOOOOO 😭

He's an adult now (a very old one at that) so he understands that now is NOT the time

Will keep thinking back on it fondly tho :))

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

Oh oh my... he gives so much deadbeat dad I'm getting nostalgic IM KIDDING

Anyway, as a bartender, i feel like thats happened to him before

People say weird shit when they're drunk so it's very likely someone's called him dad before

Though that feels very different to him

When people do that when drunk it doesn't usually mean anything - he must just remind them of their father (for good or bad) so he doesn't take it too seriously

But you? Oh he's taking it seriously

Ego? Inflated to hell and back

He's being extra sweet and caring with you

Making sure you eat and rest, etc

Gotta live up to his reputation 😉

The dad who stepped up fr

Might tease you about it, but if you have an adverse reaction he'll stop immediately

Very touched that you think of him that way even subconsciously and will try to make sure he doesn't disappoint :)

[fl3sh34t3r]

(Ooc: okay so um

what im about to say is completely something unexpected [genuinely like,,,i didn't expect it either honestly]

if u saw yeucc's stream today, you'll notice that some people gifted memberships to viewers ! and um if u payed attention- u may have saw "ButtonCat" [aka me] received the gift

in fact, if u saw the whole stream, u likely saw me playing with yeucc and other cool people in regretevator !

so yes,,,i actually ended up meeting yeucc in game as well as another developer :D

Honestly- i genuinely feel very happy to be able to like- meet the creator of my favorite game- it was actually very fun to play with everyone in the server, i do wanna say thank you to CertifiedLEMON that gifted me the membership, u made my day !!! Genuinely !! Idk if you'll see this post but if u do, thank you !!! :D

ANYWAYS, there was a lot of chaos that happened in the server after the stream ended though lol

A dev kept messing around with us and we ended up having four follys in the elevator

this gave me an idea and i decided to draw it

i find this kind of funny because,,,this is like the only actual way to stop Enidan entering the elevator. Which, I just imagined it will just result in her standing in front of the elevator, confused as shit as she just stares at the four follys before then having the doors close on it- sHE WOULD GENUINELY BE VERY CONFUSED AT WHAT HAPPENED

this does mean technically Enidan can only be stopped from entering the elevator by the devs,,,since y'know it is impossible to actually get four follys normally- :b like actually- even if u buy her floor after getting her in the elevator, she'll just get off the elevator to go on her floor to fight you-

anyways um,,,that's all i wanted to say ! I just wanted to share something silly like this :D

also, i'll likely make another post about this on my main account- iM SORRY IF IT SEEMS LIKE IM EXAGGERATING OR BEING TOO DRAMATIC ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED- I GENUINELY FEEL REALLY HAPPY I REALLY DO !! i just can't really keep like,,,my happiness and stuff all to myself !! i wanna share it with all of u guys and stuff !! :D idk how to explain it very well but i just wanna share this cuz it makes me feel genuinely very happy and stuff !! :3

anyways, that's all for now !! :D)

[yu-huuuu]

𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶;; 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

[ 🌸 ] uchiha version

characters: itachi uchiha; obito uchiha; madara uchiha; sasuke uchiha; shisui uchiha

genre: fluff

warnings: none, fem!reader

- - -

- - -

- - -

itachi uchiha

*cute boy *against all odds, his interest in you did not begin at the academy. *actually, you and him weren't even in the same class, lmao- it all started on a mission. *he didn't even turn to look at you when the hokage told him that you would be on his team lie, he did- he even turned to look at you twice

*things got a little crazy in the mission, and suddenly your team was surrounded by enemy ninjas. Quickly, four of your group members were injured, and itachi was starting to wear out. He had really forgotten about you

*and it is just at that moment that you manage to reach him after putting your injured companions in a safe place

*my boy let out the air that he had been holding after he realized that you were fine and that he was not alone in this, haha

*after the fight and reaching Konoha successfully, and after checking that the injured were okay and giving the report to the hokage he approached you

A quiet, yet soft voice spoke to you from behind you, "… I wanted to thank you for earlier"

*you smiled tenderly at his grateful words, assuring him that there was nothing to be thankful for

*obviously, you weren't aware of the little jump that Itachi's heart gave when he saw your pretty smile.

*the poor kid froze before mentally beating himself up to compose himself.

*just as you were leaving, he stopped you

“…would you like to go out some day?”

"huh?"

*although several months have passed, he will never admit his attraction to you, at least not for now.

*but you can rest easy… It won't take that long until Shisui or his mother encourage him to court you when they realize that he is feeling things for his pretty teammate.

"What's wrong? Is the whiz boy afraid of a pretty girl?" //proceeds to poke him in succession with his finger// “huh? huh? huh-?”

“Shisui… you have 5 seconds to run, and two have already passed”

- - -

obito uchiha

*obito swore that he would not fall in love again after what happened with rin *but it happens that nothing goes as he wants *especially after you walked through that door of the akatsuki hideout with your stupid and pretty smile *he found himself looking for you after that meeting under the pretext that he didn't trust you for being the new girl lying boy, he just wanted to see your smile *on the other hand you were beginning to feel harassed by the awkward boy with the orange mask *your partner and his friend-rival realized that

"but senpaaaaaaaaai-"

"tobi stop pestering!"

"but tobi just want to see how the new girl is doing!"

"i swear to God and everything beautiful in this world-!"

"…can I turn him into a puppet?"

"guys…"

*they pretend that they are not interested if something happens to you, or that tobi does something to you they are a couple of liars

*but you can be sure of something- obito will never tell you who he is

*although if you want something with him, you will have to go for it, girl.

*he won't accept how he feels about you unless you make him see it, lmao

*although he will protect you feverishly even if both of you are not something

*imagine that you are on a mission with Tobi, and suddenly you come across something that could put you in danger

*oh yeah, just ignores tobi's mood swing and strange aura while he deals with the bad guys

*don't worry, he will be your shadow, although you will never know it.

- - -

madara uchiha

*this intimidating man is a joke, pfff- don't look at me like that

*the man is a 10/10 when it comes to talking about politics

*but he's a 0/10 when it comes to confronting you, lmao

*you're not even from his clan to begin with, and his father only taught him to woo women from his clan, not outside women from the uchiha clan tend to expect certain behaviors when expecting to be courted

*anyway

*he started to fall in love when he saw your pretty eyes when you looked directly at him without any fear or shame

*he's not going to lie; it made him nervous

*because since his sharingan woke up, no woman dared to look him in the eye in the same way that you did, oh

*you make his stomach feel light and his mind spin

*and don't make me start with his face, which looks flushed and the fact that it feels very hot

*the man thinks you're some kind of magician or something, lmao

*because, my God, how is this event possible?

*The great madara uchiha in love? What a lie

*anyway

*do you have patience? good, you will need it to wait for the man to gain confidence

*because he may be confident and headstrong when it comes to the battlefield, but he's a cinnamon bun who doesn't know how to pose for the audience when it comes to the dreaded ✨romance✨

“come on, big brother… you can do it!”

"wait…- no izuna!"

"hey Y/N, my brother wants to ask you something!"

"izuna-!"

*God, please help him

- - -

sasuke uchiha

*a disaster

*a complete disaster

*he can handle hate, you know?

*but he can't handle these beautiful emotions and sensations, oww

*make his stomach flutter and his legs shake unnaturally

*he's already a teenager, he thinks�� he's too mature for this, he thinks!

*poor guy

*if he only knew

*anyway

*try to avoid you

*like, if you're on his "renamed team every chapter" he'll just ignore your existence

*He won't be rude, though!

*it will be more like a "good morning" in the morning and a "good night" at night, and that's it

*those will be your only interactions 💀

*ah, but don't let him see you in danger, he'll run to where you are without hesitation, pfff

*in the end, everything stops thanks to the intervention of Suigetsu and Jugo who couldn't stand the two of them

*somehow they manage to make sasuke bring up his feelings for you

*so they decide to help him at the end of the day with motivating words

"you just have to talk to her"

//jūgo nods//

"you shouldn't be afraid of her, she won't bite you"

//jūgo nods//

"don't tell me that the great sasuke uchiha is afraid of a girl-"

"…suigetsu shut up"

//jūgo nods again he can't decide who to support//

*in the end, he's just a soft guy who doesn't know what to do at the end of the day

- - -

shisui uchiha

*you were his cousin's classmate, and somehow you managed to be friends with itachi

*and one day he finally met you

*shisui takes everything with humor, you know?

*he is a fun person who likes to enjoy little things

*like, he's the guy who's always in a good mood

*but when you're around him, his mind goes blank

*his funniest jokes suddenly forget, or he doesn't know how to explain them from one moment to another, and suddenly they are not funny anymore, they are embarrassing 💀 even itachi makes a subtle grimace on his stupid stoic face that he charges whenever he opens his mouth to deliver a “joke”

*he doesn't know what to do or how to react

*and for some reason, he stutters a lot when he tries to explain his joke again

*itachi is there luckily to comfort him at the end of the day, but: "no, itachi- don't give me love advice when you haven't even had a girlfriend!"

*somehow he will overcome this historic moment in his life and be able to woo you properly

*when? Uhh… someday, I don't know, I'm not psychic-

"You just have to talk to her-"

“You say that like it's easy, itachi!"

[serosluv2]

obsessed bf x pretty gf trope hcs w sero & shoto pls & ty 😁😁 (seperately pls)

It’s only 7 months late but here u go anon 😘

a/n: I wrote this in an hour in the bathtub so if it is shit- don’t tell me bc I’m just getting back into writing 😭😭

Shoto Todoroki

He fits this trope so well.

He is THEE resident pretty boy of UA so it makes perfect sense that he has the prettiest girl in all of Japan. (The world)

He is the teeny weeny ist bit dense on like how to take proper photos of you for the ‘gram but trust that he WILL be searching up everything about lighting and angles and exposure and zoom- all that nonsense.

If you’re a social media girly he may leave like one or two comments. He isn’t the best about being outwardly obsessed with you, he is all about those private small moments. Not being able to take his eyes off you anywhere. Always needing to be beside you. If he can’t be with you then trust he is texting you at every free moment and expects a response within 5 minutes.

He loves shopping with you and helping you pick out outfits or jewelry or how to style your makeup that day. He has no real opinion on what looks better tho he just loves seeing you get all prettied up. (Yk that tiktok where the girl is trying to decide on a dress color and her bf is just like “wtv u want mama u look breathtaking in both” ?That’s him.)

I feel like he doesn’t really buy you anything in the beginning of your relationship bc he doesn’t really see the point/value or something in that BUT all it takes is for kaminari to get you some product you’ve been wanting for a while for secret santa and seeing how touched you were by the gesture sends him into over drive:

“OH MY GOD! KAMI!!” You exclaim- wrapping your arms around him. “How did you know? I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Shoto notices how big your eyes got and the slight blush on your cheeks from excitement and he feels, something unpleasant. Jealousy? Envy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is he doesn’t like how grateful you’re acting toward the blonde. I mean sure, he got you something nice you’ve wanted but that’s not his job (he just so happened to get you for secret santa so he kind of had to get you something) he’s not your boyfriend only your boyfriend- HIM- should be gifting you stuff. Then he kinda has a “ohh.” Moment and realizes he has never really gotten you anything just because.

Anyways after that whole interaction he is getting you anything and everything you look at for more than a second. You keep looking at some necklace at the store? Bought. He sees you liking tiktoks about girls getting flowers? Now you’re getting a bouquet every date night. Does he himself have money? No, but that No.1 hero daddy sure does. And let’s be honest he kind of owes shoto for making his childhood - for lack of a better word- awful.

In conclusion, Shoto loves his pretty girl and will do anything she asks of him without question.

Hanta Sero

Clawing at my cage for this man.

Now sero has been… infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you one faithful morning. You were ordering at some coffee shop he passes by on his way to school and just one glance had him stopped dead in his tracks. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, your face in general because holy shit- you were gorgeous. Straight out of a magazine. He quickly took notice of the little embellishments you made to your uniform.. uniform? The same one Mina has. OH MY GOD YOU GO TO UA AND HE HAS NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?

He literally cannot stop thinking about you and boom you appear again in the halls. Your going the opposite direction has him with your friends and he sees you all have a little cafe cup. Did you buy them all a drink before class? So you’re stupidly gorgeous and nice. Great, he, for sure, has no chance with you now.

But oh that’s where he is wrong.

When you guys start dating he actually cannot believe it. He is very guarded at first because- now it’s my personal hc that sero is a bit insecure- he can’t fathom how you, YOU, would actually want to date someone like…him.

But once those walls come down he doesn’t shut up about you. Seriously all his friends are so annoyed:

“Good god soy sauce if you mention your little girly friend again I’m hurling you across the city.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have a girl as pretty as mine- don’t worry baku-man, I’m sure one day some poor person will take pity on your soul.”

Sero did in fact get hurled across the city that day.

Now where he differs from Shoto is that this man is a GOD with a camera. He has that artistic eye and is able to capture you being your baddest/cutest/authentic self.

Literally ya’ll

He also has a good sense of style. He never thinks you look bad in one thing versus another but he will take into account the vibe of where you’re going and what’s you’ll be doing and give his opinion based on that. Because he grew up with sister and knows how to get around the “which one looks better?” Type question without hurting you.

Now sero doesn’t have money to spoil you senseless but what he does have is the forever lasting instinct to put your comfort above his own. It’s freezing and you didn’t wear a jacket because “a hoe ever gets cold”? Don’t worry sero will give you his and be visibly growing icicles on his body to keep you warm. Feet hurt from those impractical shoes? He’s caring you all the way home even if he is still terribly sore from a killer arm workout the day before with kirishima. A no a mudy puddle and you’re wearing your new white shoes :(! Well sero is laying his jacket down over it or simply caring you over the puddle. He isn’t the type to roll his eyes at how “ridiculous” or “spoiled” you’re being. You are y/n freaking l/n. He’ll do whatever you need to make sure nothing in your life goes wrong.

He also is the type to spam comments in your TikTok or Insta post and makes all his friends do the same. Not that you need it- he just loves fueling your ego.

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt going absolutely feral if he sees you hurt, you never expected him to be so vicious.

I think sometimes people get caught up in his playfulness and kind hearted nature but can be absolutely vicious when he wants to be. If you got hurt in battle or if someone hurt you in any way, he'd lose his mind.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood/cleaning wounds, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 1.4k

Kurt loves you so much, and he shows it every single chance he gets. He's thoughtful, patient, and he listens to you whenever you need him to. Sometimes his friends forget what he's capable of under all that sweetness he displays. You do too.

You never saw him go all out in the Danger Room. Most of the time, training by his side consisted of Kurt sticking to you like glue and protecting you. You eventually had to ask him to stop, you needed to try to fight on your own. How else would you learn?

He still watched like a hawk, observing from a distance, since he could absolutely teleport to you if he needed. While the Danger Room presented threats in a fake projection and had hard obstacles, there was no real threat. Sure, you could get hurt, nothing would actively attempt to cause severe harm.

But real battles were different.

In real life, your opponent will try to kill you.

In real life, there are consequences if you aren't careful.

When your first mission came, Kurt insisted on coming with the chosen members for the team, he wouldn't let you go off on your own. You could handle yourself, he knew that. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of not knowing what would happen if he wasn't there.

"Kurt, I'll be fine. You know I've been working hard and I've passed all the tests," you said calmly, while he shifted beside you and gave you a small pout. You knew he was just trying to keep you safe, he cared so much and all he wanted to do was protect you. His tail wrapped around your leg and he sighed back.

"I know, liebling..." he whispered softly, "But I cannot help it. I know you are strong, and fully able to care for yourself." he held your cheeks and smiled at you. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I can't get any better if you're always there to be my safety net, Kurt." you cooed, but with a small frown. "Sometimes, I need to get hurt so I can get tougher. Or so I can improve my skills. Besides, Scott said I've been doing really good and that I'm ready, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen me for this mission." you added. "You know he can be a stickler."

Kurt chuckled in return, "Ja, he can be rather strict...but I want to make sure you're safe. I won't interfere, not unless I have to." Kurt promised softly.

During the big fight, you were facing three larger enemies. The men held weapons and began to swing them at you, but you were trained enough to dodge and avoid their hits. You were doing well, swinging back and avoiding their weapons, but three against one was hard. You weren't used to such relentless attacks, at least not from opponents hellbent on actually killing you.

In the heat of the moment, you mistook your step, not able to move out of the way quick enough. You feel a fist connect to your jaw, then your cheek, then the center of your nose. You stumble back and feel something flow down your nose, a metallic taste on your tongue.

You get a little roughed up, a few more good punches to the face and being tossed around from the sudden barrage of attacks. You had been caught off guard, as you were used to Kurt showing up within the second to defend you. You were grateful, but mentally cursed yourself for relying on him mid-battle.

Kurt fights off a few opponents and looks just in time to see you thrown onto your back and roll a little from the force of impact. He sees blood on your face and your body shake as you try to stand and recover. At that moment, he looses all composure.

He rushes at the opponent, "Stay away from them!" he snarled angrily, teleporting on top of them and knocking them away from you. He swings his swords and begins an intense duel with them. Hitting over and over, weaseling away from their reactive attacks while landing fierce strikes. You watch from the ground, your pain momentarily subsided as you witness his attack.

You have never seen Kurt so fast. He swings and jumps, his agile body moving almost like water, avoiding any counter the opponent had. If he wasn't battling, you would've been fooled that he was performing for the circus again. He was so elegant to watch, how he moved was hypnotizing. His tail wrapped around the opponent's arm and jerked so their fist collided with their face. Kurt jumped off and let the enemy fall onto their back.

He showed his swords, giving a growl, "Is that all you got, wretched bastards." Kurt spoke with malice in his voice, teleporting between them and knocking the two opponents down with a single twist and kick. When he landed he pointed his sword at them, silent victory.

Kurt glared down at the enemies while the rest of the team with you secured them. He didn't take his eyes off the men who attacked you, glaring and baring his teeth like an animal. He growled and watched as they were all gathered so the team could clear the area. Only after the men were secured did he turn back and rush to you.

"Liebling!" A sudden puff of smoke appeared beside you, and so did he. "Are you okay??" he asked, kneeling down as his hands gently took your cheeks, his eyes taking in your bloodied face. "You're hurt....it's okay. I'm here, I'll get you to the jet..." he carefully cradled you, your surroundings flashed with brilliant purple and black shades, like you were rushing through clouds with bright light peeking through before your surroundings suddenly appeared as the interior of the jet.

"Just relax. I will take care of you, where do you hurt?" he asked, quickly grabbing one of the first aid kits. Your ribs hurt badly, and if they weren't broken you'd be shocked. You had taken a few good hits to the face, and hitting the ground just made your hip sore. But luckily nothing too serious.

"Kurt...m'fine, really." you rasped out, slowly wiping your nose, looking down at the blood that had collected. "Just a little sore...I'm alright." you reasoned with your blue lover, but he shook his head.

"Nein, schatz...you are beaten black and blue..." he knelt back down and gently wiped your face with a rag to clean the blood. He positioned your head up slightly, dabbing a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol. The smell made you cringe, and you leaned back as your cheek stung.

"Ow..." you mumbled, "Kurt, please. I can handle myself," you looked up to continue to talk but the look on his face made you pause. He was worried, he didn't like seeing you hurt. He wanted to take care of you, that was all. He looked back at you, his yellow eyes full of concern and sadness. So you held your tongue and allowed him to continue, even though you were fully capable of doing this, there was no harm letting him.

He dabbed your cuts clean, then applied some ointment to them. The entire time he tended to you, he made sure that he was very gentle. "Easy, liebe...just a little bit more." He applied the last butterfly bandage to your cheekbone and pulled back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Done."

You sighed with relief, sitting up with some trouble since your ribs were definitely damaged. "Thank you, Kurt...you're always so sweet to me." you smiled and kissed his cheek. He eagerly responded and he kissed you back after you pulled away. His tail wrapped around your waist gently and he positioned to hold you.

"We will leave soon. For now just rest...I promise to tend to you if I need to." he whispered, holding your head to rest on his chest. You couldn't fight him anymore, and you relaxed against him. His tail slowly rubbed up and down your back just as you liked, lulling you to sleep.

"Schlaf gut." he whispered, nuzzling his nose into your hair and feeling satisfied with you pulled against him. It scared him, seeing you on the ground like that. You didn't have any serious wounds, but he couldn't imagine if you did. He knew it was bound to happen one day, being part of the team meant every once in a while, injury will occur. He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

Instead he just held you a little tighter, happy you were safe and okay.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Way of X #5 (2021); X-Men the Onslaught Revelation #1 (2021); Way of X #5 (2021)

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part four - you give steve a ride and he thanks you with dinner 12k

a/n - this took much longer than expected so thank you for your patience!

── .✦

It’s a Friday like any other. Steve arrives at the rec center before you, dressed in an old sweater and a scarf down to his hips. He asks if you’ve slept through your alarm again, the same smile and the same teasing tone he always greets you with. You eat lunch at the same time you always do, in the same office you always have. And there, you offer the same kind of optimism you always bring when Steve sighs about the same never-ending to-do list on his desk.

You’d think it’d have gotten boring by now,  just friends Steve, but as every week rolls onto the next you find yourself just as content as you were in the last. Children bear constant surprises, you suppose. Steve never really runs out of funny things to share about Penelope. But even in those brief stretches where the conversation runs dry and you imagine it’s the start of the end of it all, you find yourself as pleased as ever to be friends with someone like Steve. 

He’s reliable and honest and he has the same sense of humor as you. He’s polite to a fault, not just to you but to everyone he interacts with. He holds doors for strangers and he greets his coworkers like it’s their last day and he stops you from crossing the road if he sees a car driving too fast. 

All to say, you’re feeling especially grateful today for even the most trivial things about Steve like the same walk to your cars parked in the same spots you always park. 

“See ya,” Steve calls just before your car door swings shut. 

You crank your window down when he stops to mouth something unintelligible through the windshield. 

“I said don’t forget your ugly sweater tomorrow,” he repeats. 

You roll your eyes. “You aren’t gonna win. Not a chance, Harrington.” 

“I dunnooo,” he sings with a shrug. “We’ll have to see.” 

There’s an ugly Christmas sweater contest being held at the center’s employee holiday party. You aren’t technically employed, but Steve insisted you’re allowed to go anyway. 

You do more work than some of these people. They should honestly pay you at this point. 

So you bought the ugliest sweater you could find. Yours has an actual wreath attached and fully operational string lights with its very own battery pack. A fire hazard if you ever saw one. Steve has yet to see it and you’ve yet to see his. And yet you’re both certain you’ll win this contest. It’s been an argument all week. And while it doesn’t truly matter if you win, it’s fun to pretend to be so invested. 

“Bye,” you slip in before your window seals shut. 

He crawls into the beamer with a final wave. Perhaps self-indulgently, you watch him stow his bag in the passenger seat and drive his car key into the ignition. It’s a pleasantly warm day for December; even through the windshield, the sun bleaches the ends of his hair blonde, his pale skin more reminiscent of a summer tan. But his golden smile flips, frustration weaving its way between his brows. Each turn of his wrist sends the car engine sputtering, you realize. 

Steve’s eyes snap to yours and blood rushes to your face, embarrassment like an iron to each cheek, but you quickly adopt his concern instead. You open your door when he steps out of his car. 

“Don’t happen to have jumper cables do you?” 

You shake your head, teeth clenched in a grimace. 

Steve hums and bites his lip. He ducks back into his seat to pull the hood latch. You join him at the front where he props it open and scans the cavity. You aren’t exactly sure what he’s looking for— you don’t even think Steve knows what he’s looking for— but you pretend to look too. 

“Must be the battery,” he decides. 

“Oh.” You glance up at the center for any stragglers but there are none. You’d stayed late to help Steve reorganize his file cabinets. 

“Well, shit,” he sighs, scratching his neck. 

“Rich just left right? Maybe I can catch him at the light? He might have cables.” 

“No, no. Let me just– shit.”

“What?”

“Penelope. Her teacher conference is tonight. Shit.” 

“Can you reschedule?”

“I’ve already rescheduled twice and I have to pick her up anyway. God, her teacher probably thinks I’m such an asshole.” 

“It’s okay. I can take you. We can come back with cables and jump the car after?” 

Steve says your name defeatedly. “No, no, I’ll just–”

You swing back to your car, insisting, “Steve, it’s fine. Come on.” 

He shuts his door and opens yours, offering an I owe you frown over the roof. Frankly, he feels like he owes you way too often. He knows you aren’t keeping track but he wishes you would so he could repay you somehow. 

“The car seat,” you remind him at the same exact time he remembers. He unhooks it with minimal struggle and sets it in your backseat to be installed after pickup. 

You’ve never driven Steve before. If you had time to worry about all the little things like if your car is clean enough or your driving is smooth enough, you might. But you’ve no idea where you're going. One wrong turn and he’ll be late. Even if you take all the right turns he might still be, and Steve really hates being late. 

“So, where am I going?” you ask as you pull out of the parking lot. 

“It’s out past Albertson’s on Lakeshore. It’s got a big caterpillar statue in front.”

“Oh, I think I might’ve seen it before.” 

“Yeah, probably, it’s right off the main road,” Steve answers, letting his eyes rove across the interior of your car. It’s nothing fancy but you’ve worked hard to maintain it. “Thanks again.” 

“Steve.”

He throws a dismissive hand in your peripherals. “I know. I know.” 

“What time is the conference?”

He reads the clock on your dash, fingers drumming the center console. “Six. Should just be a few minutes late.” 

And he’s right. You pull in just four minutes after six, parking in the spot nearest to the front doors. But it’s just your luck, or maybe Steve’s, that his seat belt buckle would jam. He tugs on the hilt until his fingers ache and it just won’t budge. Your car is well taken care of, but it’s far from new. 

“Shit. Sorry.” You unbuckle yourself and lean regretfully across the cup holders onto his side, thumbing the belt’s release button with the entire brunt of your arm. “Things finicky sometimes.” 

Steve stretches his arm behind the driver’s seat so you have full access. Your cheek nearly presses his shoulder, your pinky brushing the zipper of his jeans. It’s undeniably intimate but you’re trying really hard not to notice. 

After a few good welts, Steve is free, hopping out of his seat and asking, “You comin’?”

You aren’t sure if he wants you to or if he offers out of courtesy, but you’re excited to see Penelope and where she goes to school so there’s no hesitance in your yes.

You follow Steve up to the tinted double doors. He signs Penelope out on a clipboard at the front desk and whisks down a corridor he’s traveled a thousand times. It’s a small school, only two classrooms before Penelope’s and not many after by the looks of it. 

A familiar scream redirects your attention from the nameplate on the door. And there’s Penelope, scrambling to her feet and flying across the room right past Steve’s legs to slam into yours. 

You catch yourself on the door frame, laughing through your surprise. “Hi, Pen.” 

“Hi!” She looks up at you with the world’s biggest smile, locking hands behind your knees and propping her chin against your thigh. Her eyes flick to Steve briefly before returning to yours. “Hi, Dad.” 

“Gee, that’s all I get these days, huh?” He flicks the ticklish bit of skin behind her ear until she giggles. 

Penelope unlatches herself from you to bestow Steve with his own hug. But he shakes out of her hold as he steps into the room, teasing her, “No, no. I see how it is.”

Her giggle-strewn apology fizzles out as her teacher springs off the floor with the energy of someone half her age, her excitement very distinctly aimed at you. 

“Oh my, now look who we have here!” She shuffles over with a hand eager to shake and a smile double the size of yours. “You must be Y/N. Penelope’s told me so much about you, dear.” 

“Yes.” You exhale the sudden swell of nervous jitters. You hadn’t expected your tagging along to be such a big deal. And you certainly hadn’t expected Penelope’s teacher to know your name. “Good things, I hope.” 

“Of course. Of course! I’m so happy to finally put a face to the name. I’m Mrs. Shepherd, but call me Helen, please.” 

“Sorry, I’m late. Car troubles,” Steve supplies. 

She drops your hand to wave him off. “Don’t you worry about that. It’s this cold. I’m telling ya it gets colder every year. But please! Come sit,” she urges. “Right over here.” Helen steers three toddler-sized chairs up to a similarly short table and takes the farthest seat for herself. 

Penelope bends across Steve’s lap as he sits, watching you crouch down beside him. He drapes an arm across her back and pecks the side of her head. “Good day?”

Her head tilts in his direction as she nods. 

“Good. You can go play if you want, babe.”

She doesn’t answer with her words but she remains where she is, twisting and sprawling across Steve’s lap like he’s a human foam roller. Her attention averts to Helen who’s opening a folder and spinning it across the table so both you and Steve can see. 

You scan the page naturally but stop to wonder if Penelope’s progress is really any of your business. Steve wouldn’t mind, of course. He invited you to come inside. But suddenly attending his daughter’s parent-teacher conference feels a few steps further than friendship. 

Helen points at a graph with the eraser end of her pencil and explains what each dot represents in terms of Penelope’s learning milestones. You aren’t exactly listening to her, not for lack of trying or a lack of Helen’s enthusiasm– she has buckets of that– but because you’re stuck on the fact that Penelope talks about you enough in class for her teacher, whom you’ve never met before, to recognize you the second you walk through her door. 

Penelope taps your shoulder, very politely might you add, so as not to interrupt Mrs. Shepherd. 

You raise your eyebrows. 

She leans across Steve and cups her hand against the side of your head. “I have to show you something,” she whispers, warm breath funneling through her fingers straight into your ear. 

And before you can decide if now’s a good time, she crawls across your legs and drops onto the floor like a slinky. Her fingers slip around yours and she drags you up out of your seat ultimately deciding for you. Helen and Steve don’t seem to mind, though, completely unphased by the antics of four-year-old children by now.

Penelope pulls you to the other side of the room where a Christmas tree stands about the same height as her. She points to the only ornament– a popsicle stick reindeer with a red pom-pom for a nose. 

Excitement comes easy when she’s so good at being cute. “Rudolph! Did you make that?” 

She nods, pride trickling through a very wide grin. “It’s for Daddy. For our tree at home.” 

“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous, Pen. He’ll love it so much, I bet.” 

“I get to take it home today since there’s no school now.” 

“Oh, for winter break?”

“Mhmm.” Her eyes drift down to the floor, a large circle rug with every letter from A to Z. “This is my spot,” she says, toe tapping the P. “P for Penelope. But I share with Phillip. Phillip starts with P even though it makes the F sound.” 

“Yes, you’re right. Very good.” 

“We do stories in the morning here. And snack in the afternoon but only sometimes if we’re extra good.” 

“Ohh.” 

She toddles over to a wire shelf. “This is where our crafts go. So they dry.” She picks a piece of paper off the wrack, wrinkled blue and green in watercolors. “I made this today.” 

“Wow, that reminds me of the ocean.” 

“‘Cause it is the ocean.” Duh. 

Your eyes flit to Steve, comically hunched over his knees in a chair much too tiny. He receives your smile from all the way across the room, a soft-set joy tugging each end of his lips. A joy that revels in your recognition. One that says Yes! That’s my kid being so cute! 

“Look at this. My friend Michelle made it.”

You scan Michelle’s artwork and praise it. Michelle’s alright with watercolors but the pride you feel for Penelope’s piece is unmatched. 

“Penelope, come here a sec’.” She shoves the paintings back on the drying wrack and skips across the carpet to Steve. “Mrs. Shepherd has something for you,” he continues. 

Her teacher slides a gold-banded piece of cardstock across the table as you return. “You’ve done such a good job with your letter sounds this quarter that you’ve earned a very special certificate.”

Penelope accepts and inspects the paper. “It has my name on it.” 

“It does. And it says ‘certificate of achievement for mastering early literacy skills’.” 

Steve pokes her side. “You hear that? Means you did a really good job!”

“I did?” Her eyes glow with excitement, snapping to yours over her shoulder. “Look, I got a cerfitacate.” 

You flash her an animated smile and two thumbs up. 

“I’m very proud of you,” Steve says, a hand smoothing the frizz at the back of her head. “My smart girl. We’ll get a treat to celebrate.” 

“Ice cream?” 

He laughs, “Sure.”  

“Yes!” 

Mrs. Shepherd flips her folder shut. “Well, Penelope, you’ve worked very hard this month so enjoy your ice cream. I’ll see you after the break, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Steve stands and pushes in his chair. “Thank you. Happy holidays Mrs. Shepherd.”

“Merry Christmas Steve.” Her waving hand flies to her heart as she smiles at you. “And what a blessing it was to meet you, honey. Please come by again at some point.” 

You smile back and grab the door as Steve collects Penelope’s things. 

She hurtles down the hall to the entrance, palms stamping another set of prints to the bottom half of the front door. “Can we get ice cream now?” she shouts. You aren’t so far that she needs to yell but you suppose it doesn’t matter when you’re the last ones to pick up a kid. 

“Not right now, babe. We have to get something for my car.” 

She gasps. “Daddy, where is it?” 

“What?” 

“Your car.”

“It’s at work.” 

Her hands report to her hips as she spins. A mini Steve in so many more ways than one. “You walked here?”

“No, silly. Someone drove me.” 

Penelope’s eyes follow Steve’s and a grin breaks at her realization. “You’re coming with us?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“You didn’t tell me!” 

“I thought you knew!” You reach over her ecstatic little face to push the door open. Her hand automatically curls around yours. 

“Will you get ice cream with us?” 

“Nell, probably not tonight,” Steve interrupts. 

“I know! ‘M just saying when we go.” 

“Yes, I’ll get ice cream with you.” 

Steve opens both car doors on the passenger side, slinging Penelope’s things across the back row. “Go wait up front. Gotta put your seat in,” he tells her. “Stomp your feet.” 

She stomps her boots against the asphalt and climbs through the footwell into your passenger seat. Her eyes sweep across the interior, noticing just how different your car is from Steve’s. It’s not often she gets to ride in something other than the beamer. The last time over a year ago, Robin and her Suburu when she surprised them with a visit. 

“Cold?” you ask, dropping your keys in the ignition to reach for the temperature dial. 

She nods ardently, nose and cheeks wind-kissed the same shade of pink. 

You rub your hands together and crane over your shoulder, finding Steve with his cheek flush against the headrest, half his arm eaten by the seat cushion. 

“Need some help?”

He bites his lip and grumbles, “Maybe.” 

You meet him on the opposite side of the backseat, clueless as you can be about car seats, but ready to help nonetheless. The problem is Steve doesn’t know your car and apparently neither do you. There’s no reason you should know if your car has hooks underneath the seats but it'd be really helpful if you did. 

You whip out the car manual from the glovebox while Steve scans the instructions on the side of the car seat for alternatives. It takes a while. Long enough for Penelope to ask about dinner three separate times. But the necessary hooks are located eventually– Steve swears he checked that side– and Penelope’s seat is secured right behind Steve’s. 

“Alright,” Steve huffs, checking his wristwatch, “Only took us about twenty minutes.” 

“I did not expect installing a car seat to be such a workout,” you complain.

“Yeah, they don’t tell you about this part in middle school health class.” 

Penelope flops over the center console and moans, “Are we going?” 

“Yes, come here please.” 

She sits up to cross her arms. “I don’t want you to do the buckle.” 

Steve reminds himself that being hangry is hard, especially at her age. But his patience is easier to retain with you around, smiling all pretty and helping every chance you get. He takes a breath. “Then how do you ask?” 

She tilts her head so very innocently at you and puts on her best big girl voice. “Will you buckle me, please?” 

Even without the magic words you’d say yes. Who could resist all that Penelope charm? Long lashes and chubby cheeks and that dainty little voice. Certainly not you. 

She gives you a detailed explanation about which clasps fasten where but it’s not too complicated to figure out yourself. One clips across her chest, two between her legs. Steve teaches you how to adjust the straps and confirms her chest piece is level with her armpits when you finish. 

“Can we listen to Muppets?”

Your lips pinch into a small line. “I don’t have any Muppets tapes. I have Christmas music?” 

Penelope shows you a very unhappy face. You are very aware Christmas is not her favorite holiday but what child does not like Jingle Bells? You’re choosing to blame it on her empty stomach and a half hour spent bored in the school parking lot. 

“Or you can look through my tapes? I don’t really think you’ll like them, though.” 

Steve passes her your box of mixtapes as you settle back in the front. Penelope picks one with Pat Benatar on it because it’s the first name she could sound out by herself. And it’s not The Muppets but she does listen to enough pop rock with Steve to know some of her songs. 

You drive very carefully to Albertson’s around the corner. You stop completely at stop signs, you ride the speed limit if not under, and you triple-check for pedestrians at the light. You’ve never driven cargo as precious as Penelope before. 

Steve gets out alone because Penelope begs to stay with you and it’s easier to shop without a preschooler reaching for things she shouldn’t have. While he’s gone, Penelope unpromptedly shares her opinions about your car. That there’s less stuff on the floor and it smells much gooder than Steve’s. And how there’s barbeque sauce stained on the ceiling of his car but not in yours. She asks if you’ll pick her up from school again and you reply truthfully, that you aren’t really sure. 

You’d like to pick her up again. It’s a surprising type of comfort having company in the car. Someone to look at in the rearview, someone to ask about their day. 

Steve returns with a grocery bag of cables and a second with candy. He chucks a bag of fun-sized peanut M&Ms in the back, smacking Penelope right in the cheek. But she can’t complain, not with chocolate in her lap. 

“Don’t open it yet. Not in the car.” 

Penelope groans, sticking her toes into his seat until it moves. “Why'd you even give it to me then?”

“‘Cause you’re fun-sized,” he grins. “And my peanut.” 

She doesn’t know what he means, nor does she really care. All her focus is on counting the number of M&Ms beneath the paper wrapper. 

“She can have it now. I mean, if you’re fine with it,” you say. 

“She’s messy,” he warns. 

You shrug. “So am I. I don’t mind.” 

He appreciates the gesture more than you know. It’s a nice feeling, knowing he’s not the only one putting Penelope’s needs before his own. Steve twists around in his chair and chuckles at Penelope’s obvious eagerness. “Go ahead, babe.” 

She tears into the bag like a rabid dog, managing surprisingly well to keep the mess contained to her car seat. Steve pulls out his own bar of chocolate and tosses you the grocery bag. “Take your pick.” 

He’s so thoughtful that it hurts. In the bag are all your favorite candies and two glass-bottled cokes. Steve prioritizes healthy eating, but he’s a sweets guy at heart. A little treat every once in a while won't hurt, he says. 

You pick a candy and toss the bag back onto his lap. 

It’s an odd feeling driving to the center so late in the day, but even more odd to have Steve and Penelope beside you while you do it. Their conversations make for an entertaining ride, however; all giggles and spontaneous questions and the occasional argument about something silly like which candy is superior. 

The car brakes squeal as you slow to a stop in front of the rec center. A chain link fence wraps around the building, a gate you never have to worry about blocking the entrance to the parking lot. 

“Shoot,” Steve sighs. “The gate. I didn’t even think about it.” 

You put the car in park as Steve unlocks the door. He steps out onto the sidewalk and marches up to the gate to see how legitimate this lock really is. The city provides a ludicrously low amount of funding to the center but the gate lock? It’s as heavy-duty as it can be. Steve tries his office keys, which of course do not work, and then he stands there staring hopelessly at his BMW on the other side of the fence with his hands on his hips. 

“Is Daddy having a bad day?”

“Just a long one.” You reach across his empty seat to roll the window down. “Steve.” 

He takes a few long strides back to the car and gets in. “I’m sorry. This is such a mess. You wouldn’t know the custodian's number? I think I have it somewhere in my office.” 

“Why would I know the custodian’s number?” 

“I don’t know.” He scrubs his jaw, hand climbing up and back through his hair. He’s frustrated about his car but he feels ten times worse that you’re stuck here with him. 

You duck your head for a full view of the fence. It doesn’t look very tall from where you’re sitting. “Okay, hear me out here…”

Steve raises his eyebrows. 

“I hop the fence—“

“No.”

“It’s not that tall, Steve.”

“Absolutely not. If anyone’s jumping the fence, it’ll be me.” His thumb and forefinger pinch either side of his forehead, though it doesn’t do anything to ease the onset of his headache. “But we can’t even do that. It’s too busy. Someone’s gonna call the cops.” 

“The po-po!” Penelope roars. 

You laugh, turning in your seat to better see Penelope. Chocolate’s smeared across her chin and you’d bet a lot of money her hands are covered too. “We can wait until nightfall,” you suggest, fishing the wad of napkins from your center console to pass to Penelope. “Ooh, a stakeout!”

“It’s not a stakeout. We aren’t watching someone.” 

“We could send innocent little Penelope.” 

Steve drops his hand to glare at you. Not a real one, but not totally fake either. He’s not mad at you for trying to lighten the mood, he just wishes it was working more. And he laughs at your jokes more than anyones, today he’s just feeling unreasonable about things out of his control. 

“Daddy, yeah, I’ll go! I’ll be like a spy on a mission."

“A top secret mission,” you add.

“No. Not happening. Forget it— both of you.” 

You click your tongue. “Lame.”

“Yeah, Daddy, lame.”

He can’t help but smile at that even though he’s trying very hard not to. “You’re encouraging her, you know.” 

“Sorry.” 

You aren’t very sorry, he knows by the stupid smirk on your lips. 

“Okay, why don’t we just come back tomorrow for the party? It’ll be open then. I’ll take you home tonight and pick you up in the morning.”

“No, no–” 

“Oh, come on, Steve. You're shooting down all my ideas. I don't like this whole tough guy I need to do everything by myself bullshit."

“Bad word!”  

Steve sighs. He knows you're right and he doesn't want to admit it.

“Let me help you,” you laugh, giving his shoulder a nice shove. “You’re stubborn as a kid sometimes.”

“Well, which is it? A tough guy or a kid?” 

“Don’t be a smartass.” 

“Bad word! Again!”

He smiles then, mostly in disbelief at your sudden potty mouth. “Do we need to start a swear jar?” 

You pretend to zip your lips and put the car in gear. 

The drive to Steve’s is on the long side but it doesn’t feel that way at all. Not with Penelope in the backseat, sharing every detail of her day from what type of juice box Steve packed her for lunch to how Shannon from the three-year-old class got mulch in her boo-boo at recess. You love every second of it. You catch her animated gestures through the rearview and you ask all sorts of questions back. 

Everything about this afternoon has differed from your usual routine, but Steve’s driveway feels more familiar than ever. You turn the car off out of habit but leave it off in favor of walking them inside. Steve frees Penelope from her car seat and collects her bag and the crumpled candy wrapper she left behind. 

She races up the concrete hill, skidding on a sheet of ice, and landing butt-first with a giggle. You help her up– even after she tries to yank you down with her– and dust off the damp patch on her pants.

Steve’s only just shut the car door, looking up the driveway to see where you guys are. 

“Come on slowpoke!” 

“Yeah, Daddy, hurry! It’s cold!”

“I’m comin’. I’m comin’.” 

Steve sheds his sneakers at the door and Penelope copies him in a much less coordinated struggle. Your shoes remain on your feet because you don’t intend to stay for very long, though Steve quickly reveals his other plans. 

“Stay for dinner?” he says as he offers his softest most convincing face. His backup plan is to call you just as stubborn and bully you into agreeing. “As thanks,” he adds. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Steve.”

“Then as friends?” 

Your face curdles into something unintentionally sour. 

“My cooking’s not that bad I promise,” he chuckles, kicking everyone’s shoes out of the doorway. 

“No, it’s not that,” you swear with a small smile, bending to wedge your finger between your sock and your shoe. 

“It’s Daddy’s turn to pick,” Penelope chimes in. She crouches to pet Cinderella who’s prancing over with a shiny, new collar. 

“It is,” Steve sings like he just remembered. “Hope you like stir fry.” 

“It’s really yummy,” Penelope adds. “If you try new things sometimes you like them.” 

You hum. “Very wise.” 

They branch from your side like opposite ends of a wishbone– Penelope skipping up the stairs and Steve pivoting for the kitchen. You follow Steve, and to your surprise, Cinderella follows you. 

She dodges your attempt to scratch her chin, tail twitching like a snake’s tongue, eyes narrowed into slits. She’s still grumpy with you. Because you catnapped her or because she’s permanently bitter, you aren’t totally sure.

“She’s just begging for food. Acts like we starve her, the little drama queen,” Steve mutters. He pulls a bag of cat food from the kitchen sink cabinet. “Feed her for me?” 

You take the flimsy paper bag and unroll it. The shake of dry food like a bell, sending Cinderella scampering across the room to a pair of checkered bowls. You fill one and trade it for the other to fill with water from the sink. Steve’s hands are busy there, scrubbing an assortment of vegetables in the side without dishes. 

“Do you think cats hold grudges?” you ponder out loud, thrusting the bowl underneath the faucet. 

Amusement flickers across Steve’s face as he glances at Cinderella over his shoulder. “This one? A hundred percent.” 

“I think she resents me for bringing her here.” 

He smiles at you with sealed lips. “She’s not being tortured. Don’t worry.” 

You place the bowl beside its twin, earning a less-than-pleasant sound from Cinderella. 

“She’ll warm up to you,” he promises. You aren’t sure you believe him but it’s a nice sentiment. 

You return to his side, fingertips grazing the cutting board on the counter. “Can I help?”

“No.”

You pull a sharp knife from its wooden block home and slide the slab of wet veggies away from Steve. 

“No. You’re not helping.” He slings a dish towel over his shoulder and dries his hands with it. “Go. Get out.” 

“I am helping. Don’t test me, Harrington, I have a knife.”

He scoffs. “Threatening me? In my own home?” 

“Cause you're so stubborn.” 

“Cause you’re so stubborn,” he mimics. “Says you.” 

“Oh my God. You’re actually a child.” 

He sets a large pan on the stove, only whispers of amusement in the corners of his mouth. “Don’t cut yourself. We ran out of Barbie bandaids.” 

A clink and clatter against the tile steal your attention. Penelope in the archway, a baby doll cradled loosely in one arm, a second on the floor at her feet. She’s swapped her school clothes for a princess dress and a plastic pair of heels. “Daddy,” she groans. “You said you’d get more.”

Steve’s eyes skip from the box of rice in his hands to her frowny face. “I know, babe. I forgot. We’ll go tomorrow.” 

She must not care all that much about the bandaids, clopping over to the stovetop for a peek. 

“Stoves hot,” Steve warns. 

You watch Penelope closely, though Steve’s right beside her, twice her height and twice as vigilant. But she’s well trained, hands clasped behind her back, eyes doing all the nosying. You don’t have to worry as much as you do, but accidents can still happen. 

“Is it almost ready?” she asks. 

“No. Go play for a bit. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“Whining won’t make it cook faster.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause I did it all the time when I was your age. Never worked. Not even once.”

She hums like she isn’t sure whether to believe him. 

You catch her gaze, backing Steve up with an honest nod. “Wanna help?” you ask. 

“No,” she decides candidly. You imagine Steve’s used to her straightforward nature, though it’s still quite funny to you.  

“Then go play.” He steers her out of the kitchen, a hand gripping her head like a claw. Cinderella swats at his ankle when his foot barely misses her tail. “Too crowded in here.”  

Penelope giggles as he gives her skull a good jostle. “Daddy.”

“Penelope.”

“Will it be ready in five minutes?”

“No.”

“Ten?”

“Goodbye. Take Cinderella.” 

Cinderella leaps away from Penelope’s grabby hands, a brown blur as she’s chased out of the kitchen, and by the click-clack of Penelope’s shoes, presumably up the stairs. 

“My God, you are just massacring that carrot,” Steve hisses, peering over your shoulder. 

“No, this is how they do it.” 

“Who?”

“Chefs. On those fancy shows. You should watch ‘em sometime. Could learn a thing or two.” 

“Are you kidding? These would send Julia Child to an early grave.” 

You snag the towel saddled on his shoulder and give him a fair smack on the arm. “Jerk.” 

But he catches the free end before it’s gone, yanking until you list forward a step. There are mere inches between your chests, the length of your palm at most. And he fucking smirks. He smirks like an arrogant fool who knows this interaction is sending your heart into an endless somersault. 

The air scrapes up your throat funny. It takes every ounce of control not to cough in his face. Your end of the towel drops as you turn away, retreating back to a more comfortable distance at the counter. “I’m surprised you even know anything about Julia Child,” you grumble. 

“My mom watched her show like all the time when I was a kid.” 

You hum, sweeping vegetable scraps in your hand to throw away. Not because they’re massacred.  “She likes to cook? Your mom.”

“No, not really,” he chuckles, though there’s no amusement beyond the sound. “I think everyone just expected her to.” 

“Oh,” you cringe. “Sad.” 

He shrugs, taking the cutting board and dumping your handiwork into the simmering pan. A mushroom cloud of steam billows up as he turns his cheek. “Being a housewife has its drawbacks. 

“Sounds like the life to me.” You sidle up to the stove to watch the veggies brown beside him. “I’d cook and clean all day if I didn’t have to work.” 

“I don’t think she would’ve been happy either way. I dunno, I think it’s more about finding peace and happiness in what you’re doing. Not about what you’re doing.” 

You squint at the side of his nose with accusing eyes. “Are you quoting someone?” 

He squints right back at you, tone washed in fake offense. “What? No, I just thought of that.” 

“You didn’t get that out of a magazine or something?”

“No.” 

You glance up at his hairline and smile. “Wow, you really do have a brain up there.” 

He knocks his shoulder into yours, rough as he can be without doing any real damage. And even with two layers of wool between your skin, the touch sends a buzz from the tip of your fingers up the length of your arm. “So mean," he says.

You might feel bad about it if he didn’t tease you the same.  

Steve stirs in a handful of seasonings and cooks the food until it bubbles. The pot comes off the stove to be set beside a stack of three plates on the counter. 

“Dinner���s ready!” he shouts, and not a millisecond later there’s the predictable thump, thump, thump, down the stairs. Penelope barrels into the kitchen with a long list of demands– more rice on her plate, a very big glass of juice, and most importantly, to sit beside you at the table. Steve lets the lack of manners slide because they're all doable requests and because he is also very eager to eat his dinner.

“This is really good, Steve,” you compliment, across from him at the table, “Thank you.” 

“Family recipe.” 

“Really?”

“No,” he smiles. 

You tilt your head at Penelope. “Why does your dad lie so much?” 

She shrugs with a mouth full of food. 

“Was a joke,” he corrects. “Not a lie.” 

“Mm. Still a lie.” 

“Can you stay for a sleepover?” Penelope butts in, her own train of thought far more important than yours and Steve’s debate. Her eyes are locked onto yours like they’re matching targets. She knows already that you hate to say no to her pretty little face. 

“What? Tonight?” 

She nods.

“At your house?”

Her nose scrunches, an ear dropping to one shoulder. She’s still at an age where her facial expressions are inherently dramatic. It’s nearly impossible to hide what she’s feeling. “Yeah,” she says, hopeful and curious and confident all at once. 

A nervous chuckle slips. You look to Steve for help but he’s busy searching his plate for more onions. “I dunno, hun. Maybe not tonight.” 

“But there’s no school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I… well, I didn’t bring any clothes.”

“You can borrow Daddy’s pajamas?” She looks you up and down, no discreet way about it. “I don’t think mine will fit.”

Steve snorts. “Nell, we gotta talk about it first,” 

“Tomorrow night?” 

“We’ll talk about it. Have to eat all your dinner before I even think about it.” 

“All of it?”

“Every bite.”

It’s not as much of a punishment as she makes it out to be. She really likes his stirfry. 

“Did you take your spelling test today?” Steve asks. 

A mushroom slews down Penelope's chin as she shakes her head. 

“Why not?” 

She swallows hard and her eyes roll to the side. “Because Jamie and Jenna are sick. Um, and Mikey too.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well, Mikey isn’t sick but he didn’t come to school.”

“Oh. How come?” 

Her eyebrows pull together as she thinks. “Umm, he went somewhere. A wedding?” 

“Oh, yeah. His mom got married, right? I think Courtney’s mom told me that a while ago.” 

Penelope hums her agreement, her face turning through several emotions. “Do you think she’s in love?” she eventually asks. 

Steve peeks up from his food. “Mikey’s mom?”

“Mhmm.” 

“Well, yeah, probably.” 

“Why?”

“Why what?” 

“Why is she in love?” 

You smile hard, an echo of Steve’s across the table. The type of smile that can’t be helped or hidden. 

“Well, I dunno. Maybe she thinks he’s very kind. Or maybe he’s funny, or handsome,” he surmises. 

“Or all of those?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. 

Penelope smiles then too, just as big and proud as yours as she declares, “We’re in love.” 

“Sorta,” Steve chuckles. “It’s a different kind of love.” 

“You two are in love.” 

Steve has no food in his mouth to swallow, choking only on the air in his throat. And you, well, you aren’t in any better shape to respond. Your chest is so tight you think your lungs might’ve shrunk, all that squeezes through you is a nervous laugh. 

Steve clears his throat, “We aren’t in love, honey. Not like Mikey’s mom.” 

“But you spend a lot of time together? I think you might be,” she decides. 

“Well, you know, you spend a lot of time with some people. Like your friends… and your teacher, but you aren’t in love with all of them.” 

“Well, no, I guess.”

He takes her hand from across the table and gives it a squeeze. “Think about me and RoRo. We spend a lot of time together when she visits and I do love her but we aren’t in love. Being in love is a special type of love.”

Penelope frowns, more confused than upset. “Wait, so you aren’t having a wedding too?”

Steve laughs, eyes flicking to yours as he pulls back. He’s relieved to find you’re looking at Penelope, two shades warmer with enough affection to ease his nerves. “No, silly. Why’d you think that?” 

She shrugs, arms raising fervently. “I just thought that’s what parents do when they get in love.”

“Well, yes, sometimes. But we– we’re not in love.” 

She blinks several times, some at you, some at Steve, some at her half-eaten stirfry. You get the impression she doesn’t fully believe him. And it’s terrifying as it is hilarious. 

“Oh. Well, I accidentally told Mrs. Shepherd you guys were going to have a wedding too.” 

“That’s okay. What did she say?” 

“I think she was excited. I can’t remember.” 

Steve nods, smile worsening with each tip to his head. Penelope’s… mistake is cute and funny and embarrassing all at the same time. But he’s the farthest thing from mad about it when you're smiling as big as he is. 

“Alright, alright,” he shakes his head. “Eat your food. It’s gettin’ cold.” 

Dinner concludes and Steve quickly takes off for the sink with an empty stack of plates. He’s always on the go. Something to cook or clean or fix. Someone to teach manners and independence and emotional skills. It never seems to stop and yet he never complains. 

You exit your chair, fully intending to fight Steve about drying the dishes when Penelope tugs on your sleeve. 

“Will you stay for games?” 

“Oh–”

Her hands clap together. “Pretty please! With sprinkles and sugar cones and chocolate sauce and a mara-sheeny-cherry on top!”

Your laugh catches you so off guard it turns into a cough. “A mara-what now?”

“Mara-she-ee,” she tries.

“Maraschino.” 

“Yeah, mara-she-oh.” 

Your giggles spill in sync. You fix her puffy princess sleeve where it’s slipped down her shoulder and explain, “If your dad says it’s okay, then I’ll stay for games.” 

Her eyes jump across the room to Steve who’s already yelling over the running sink water, “It’s okay!” 

Penelope takes your hand in her much littler one and escorts you to the living room. Steve’s house is minimally decorated for the holidays, but he has a real pine tree and two stockings on the mantel. Penelope plops in front of the entertainment center to flick through her options, pulling out a board game called Mr. Mouth. 

“I love this game,” she says, dumping the contents of the box across the hardwood. The game pieces roll every which way but you wrangle up the ones headed under the couch. “I always win,” she adds, raking her own handful of coins in a pile. 

Her confidence is charming. You’d challenge her if she wasn’t so cute about it. “I’ve never played. Can you show me?” 

“Umm, yeah. You need to get all the flies in froggy’s mouth. But we got to build it first.” 

Penelope seems to have played enough to know which pieces go where. They slot together easily, a frog base at the center with four arms for launching. And each arm has a corresponding chip color, each chip scalloped with the shape of a fly. 

“I want red!” Penelope claims quickly, picking several red coins off the floor. 

You balance a stack of yellows on the end of your catapult. “So we put ‘em here and launch them?” 

She cocks her head at you, baby teeth perched on her bottom lip as she smiles. “Yes, how’d you know?” 

“Just a feeling.” 

You collect all your coins and count backward from three. Penelope’s hand smacks her lever on your go, sending red flies springing every which way. You join in, smacking and smacking until there are no flies left to launch. The frog contains an overwhelming amount of red to yellow, so much so that a count is not needed to declare the winner. 

Penelope beams at Steve as he plods over. “Daddy, I won!” 

“You did? Oh, Mr. Mouth. She’s like ridiculously good at this game,” he tells you. “What color can I be?”

“You can be blue or green. I think you can be blue ‘cause it’s your favorite.”

“Okay, I’ll be blue.” 

Penelope slides the blue chips across the floor where Steve sits crisscrossed beside you. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his fingers, an ostentatious display of confidence as he smirks. 

“Ready to give up your crown, princess?” 

"Mmm-mm."

"Well, get ready. 'Cause today's the day."

“No, it isn't. Not even in ten-million-trillion-ga-zillion years!”

"It sure is!"

“No, you never win! Not even when you’re sleeping!” Penelope shouts. 

Your laughter is lost to their immediate bickering. Empty insults like a ping-pong ball back and forth across the gameboard. But the real chaos unfolds the second you finish the starting countdown.

For an athletic guy, you’d think Steve would care about good sportsmanship. But not today, apparently. Sabotage is his core strategy– stealing and stuffing Pen’s chips down his shirt, shoving her defenseless little arms away as she screams. 

It’s all in good fun, though. Penelope is so loved she doesn’t consider him truly mean for even a second. But she begs you to convince Steve to play fair for at least a few rounds. And he does, of course, because you asked so nicely and because he wants more than anything in the world for Penelope to have a good time. She wins three rounds in a row because Steve lets her and so do you. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the champion,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.” 

“Daddy, don’t be a sore loser.”

“Then don’t be a sore winner.” 

She sticks her tongue out and he returns the favor twice as fierce. Their rivalry resurfaces in a handsy argument about who the real winner is. Penelope winds up licking his cheek which gets her in very serious trouble with the tickle monster. 

She cries your name as Steve hoists her up in the air, the last syllable stolen by a gasp. “Please–” she cackles, “Help me-ee!” 

Steve pins her back down to his chest like a seatbelt, fingers curling into her sides until she screams again and again. “Who’s the champion?” he repeats with a full-blown smile, barely preserving his evil persona.

“Me!” 

“Errr!” He mimics a buzzer sound, sending Penelope into another wild fit of giggles. 

You're so weak with your own laughter, that you aren't sure you could help her if you tried. 

She kicks and flails and wiggles under his ruthless hands until her very last drop of energy. “I give up,” she admits, breathless, dropping to a dead weight in his arms. “You’re the champy-un." 

Steve rolls her mercifully onto the floor where she regains enough strength to flee behind your back, arms looping around your neck like you’re nothing but a human shield. 

You press a smidgen of your weight into her tummy and pat her arm, eyes glued fondly to Steve’s. “It’s okay, Pen. You’re my champion, still.” 

Steve wants to roll his eyes at you but he can’t. Your affinity for loving his daughter never falters. You know all the right things to say, all the best ways to pretend. It’s so deeply unbearable all he can do is smile. And when you smile back, he gets a taste of something he always dreamed of, and he realizes he has all he ever wanted in the world. 

Steve relishes another mindful second of all this make-believe and non-make-believe excitement before sighing. “Okay, princess, it’s late. Go get pjs on. Want Muppets?” 

She pushes up on her toes until you lean forward, her breath warming your neck as she pleads, “I wanna play Bed Bugs.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “But that game makes me so itchy.”

“But I wanna show Y/N!” 

“Another night, babe. It’s really late. If you wanna movie we have to now.”

She sighs. She loves her night-time movies more than most things, even if she rarely makes it to the end. “Bath?” 

Steve squints. “Why? You stink?” 

You feel the shape of her smile through the fabric on your shoulder blade. “No.”

“Do I need to check?” 

“Nooo.” 

You squint at Steve, humming until you run out of breath. “What’s that– Steve, do you smell that?” You sniff the air loudly, nostrils flaring, nose scrunching. 

Steve imitates your dramatic sniffing, inching his face closer and closer to your face. “I think… maybe it’s behind you.”

You whip your head to the side, gasping like Penelope hadn’t been there the whole time. She lets her wrist be dragged up to your nose, where you skip across soft skin in a dotted line up her arm. “False alarm,” you decide after one final whiff. “No stink bugs here.” 

“Alright,” Steve grins. “Bath tomorrow then. There’s clean jammies in the laundry room.” 

Penelope launches herself off of you, stamping off into the other room. 

“Don’t mess up my pile!” Steve yells. 

“‘Kay!” 

He scoots back into the recliner's closed footrest, arms stretching up with a big breathy groan. A rogue coin from Mr. Mouth pokes the underside of his thigh, and before he even gets his hands on it, you can tell he’s itching to flick it at you. Call it friends’ intuition. 

It hurls right past your open palm, catching in the neckline of your long sleeve. He’s not smiling but he doesn’t need to for you to read the satisfaction on his face. 

You huck it back because it brings you the same pleasure. But he doesn’t try to catch it, arms too sore and mind too static for quick reflexes. The toy smacks the center of his chest, sliding down into a crease in his sweater.  

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” he admits, setting his aching eyelids to rest. “Think you could be me for the rest of the night?” 

You know he’s only kidding but you wouldn’t mind taking over if he wasn’t. Penelope’s mostly self-sufficient at her age. You feel capable enough by now to babysit without any disasters occurring. 

“We could swap clothes. I don’t think she’d notice.” 

He huffs through his nose, a gentle smile splaying across his lips. “Would you actually do me a favor?”

“‘Course.” 

“Just turn on the VHS. Movie’s already in.” 

You retrieve the remote from the coffee table and power on the VHS. The TV flickers awake to a paused scene from The Muppet Christmas Carol involving several muppets, one recognizably Kermit the Frog. You sweep Mr. Mouth back into its box while the tape rewinds, kneeled in front of Steve who’s slouching lower and lower into the leather footrest. 

You tentatively reach for the last coin tucked in his sweater, stuttering when his hand shoots out to bracelet your wrist. His lips flare into a smile, eyelids peeling open to watch you squirm. 

“Don’t do that–” you murmur, swatting his chest with the hand not trapped in his. “Scared me.” 

“You make it too easy,” he mumbles back, thumb stroking the soft flesh of your arm. He looks up at you with a quiet reverence, eyes rich as soil, so grounding and full of life. 

It’s all but two seconds, two blinks, two breaths; you pretend not to savor the heat of his gaze, not to feel the way your heart chokes beneath his fingertip. You pretend not to imagine the curve of your lips against every freckle on his face. It’s all so easy, this pretending. It’s a million times easier to pretend than to admit you’re caught in something you’re not at all ready to lose. 

Steve unshackles your wrist at the growing echo of footsteps. You lean back onto your heels as Penelope rockets through the room, a long nightgown billowing behind her like a sail in a windstorm. She tackles Steve with swinging arms and heavy feet, rocking the recliner under both of their weight. 

“Ow, babe. That hurt.” Steve complains, a hand darting up to his chin. “You headbutted me.” 

Penelope cranes back to see for herself, one hand on either side of his achy jaw. From where you’re sitting, there’s no cause for immediate panic, only a little red spot on Steve and a guilty little girl in his lap. 

“No bandaids,” she reminds him like it's really rather unfortunate. 

“I don’t need one. Just a kiss.”

She nods and puckers her lips, slotting them in the dip beneath his. 

“All better,” Steve assures as she pulls away. He smiles big to prove it. 

But her inspection is far from over. Sympathetic fingers caress every bend and bow of his face. She sets a second kiss to a razor bump on his cheek and a third to the scar on his forehead. They sink down to a flat heap on the floor, matching double chins and four cheeks dimpling with joy. 

Penelope is satisfied enough to roll over on his chest as the tape finishes its rewind. Steve tugs a blanket from the recliner to shake across their bodies, an arm looped around Penelope like a belt, his chin tucked against her crown. 

And with a heated human pillow to curl up on, it’s a miracle Penelope makes it through the intro credits. She’s dozing not long later, however, one hand discarded across the floor, the other curled around Steve’s on her chest. 

He lifts her with the effortlessness of an experienced parent, retiring her to everyone’s favorite corner of the sectional. Her rousing is mitigated with a few strokes down her nose and a forehead kiss to round it off. 

Steve presses a shushing finger to his mouth and tugs you off the floor. He holds your hand as you tip-toe away, turning you sixteen again, long before you even knew Steve Harrington existed. 

He leaves you at the dining table, swishing away and momentarily returning with a wine glass in each hand. 

“Wine?” you chuckle, pinching the neck of the glass he offers. 

“Apple juice,” he smirks. “Unless you want– I might still have an old bottle of champagne from like a raffle or something.” 

“No, no. Juice is great.” You swivel the cup until gold sloshes up the sides. “What’s the occasion?” 

He sits in the chair Penelope had earlier, slinging an arm around the back and propping his feet up on the bar underneath yours. “Does there need to be one?”

“I think so.” 

He hums. “Let’s say… to not rescheduling the parent-teacher conference a third time.” 

“To that. Sure,” you muse, tipping your glass to meet his with a satisfactory clink. 

You each take a sip donning matching smiles. There’s a glow about him, a tired kind of warmth in his mussed hair and slackened shoulders. It’s a simple thing, sitting here together in this pocket of quiet. But you feel more present than ever, like the world has narrowed just to fit the two of you. 

And maybe it’s the dreamy stillness of this moment. Or maybe the placebo effect works with courage and your pretend glass of wine. But there’s a craving you can’t ignore— a deep desire to stitch together the fragments of Steve and Penelope’s lives you’ve yet to understand. 

“Can I ask you something? Like personal?” you begin. 

“Hmm?”

“Penelope’s mom… is she– well, you don’t talk about her. And I’m just curious if… I dunno. I’m just curious, I guess.”

Steve blinks down at the grooves on the floor. He finds they aren’t all that interesting and they don’t spark any easy answers. You’re right in the fact that he doesn���t talk about her. He’s not sure how to, mostly. 

“I shouldn’t have–”

His fingers skip across the exposed skin of your wrist. A sweet attempt to palliate some embarrassment. “No, you’re okay… Sorry, it’s not like a secret–"

“No, I know, I just– am I crossing a line by asking? I don’t want to–”

“No, no. It’s okay. She’s– it’s okay. Her mom– Annie’s her name. She’s…” The long stream of air blown through his lips catches in a nervous chuckle. “Where do I even begin?” 

“Did she… die?” You hate to say it, to even think it, but it’s the most logical explanation in your mind. 

“No, God no. Not that I know of, anyway.” The apple of his throat bobs as he swallows. “She’s just, I dunno, I think she lives in Texas now. Not really sure what she’s doing, to be honest with you.” 

“You don’t talk?”

“No, not since– not in a long time. Penelope was a baby last time I saw her. What? Like eight, nine months or something.” 

“She didn’t want to help?” 

“She tried, I’ll give her that much, but not for very long, no. She was really unhappy, I guess. How she could look at Penelope and feel that way,” he exhales through his nostrils, “Well, I’ll never really understand that.” 

You hum because you aren’t really sure what to say. You aren’t really sure there is anything to say– not anything he hasn’t already heard or thought himself. “I think some people just aren't meant to be mothers,” you decide. 

“She certainly thought so.” 

Your mouth twists into a frown, a patchwork of sympathy, pity, and the uneasy fear of saying the wrong thing. Yet, curiosity, or even selfish desire, blooms brighter than any other emotion. “Do you still love her?”

He shakes his head definitively. “I’m not sure I ever did. We were only together a few months when she found out she was pregnant.”

“‘M Sorry, Steve.”

He waves you off before you can even finish your pity. “Don’t. Don’t get me wrong, raising a kid alone is the hardest thing I’ve ever done by far. But it taught me a lot about myself. About my friends, my family. I wouldn’t be who I am without Penelope.” 

“Is that why you moved here? From Indiana?”

“Sorta, I guess. I wanted a fresh start after she left. But I think in some fucked up way I was also pushing everyone away so I wouldn’t be hurt again. And so I could prove to everyone– Annie, my parents– that I could do it without their help.” 

“Your parents? I know you aren’t close but… they didn’t help?”

“My parents? Probably the least helpful people I could’ve asked. They’re– I mean, they barely raised me. Old man’s a real asshole. We never really got along. And Mom, well, she’s just… I don’t even know. I don’t think her life turned out how she thought it would and she resents everyone around her for that.” 

“Mm.” 

“I like to think they tried their best, maybe they did, but I sure as hell know it’s not nearly as hard as I expected it to be to just show up for your kid. You know, Penelope, she’s my everything, seriously. I don’t know what I’d be doing without her. Something stupid, probably.” 

“Like what?”

“I dunno, probably taking over Dad’s dealership like he wanted me to. God, I’d be miserable. I’d be just like them.” He shakes his head, relief more than anything.

“Good thing you moved here and met me.” 

“Yeah. Good thing.” He laughs, a real Steve laugh, no self-deprecation involved. When it fizzles out into a smile, he hesitates to ask, “Would you ever come with me, if I moved back home?” 

For a moment you don’t quite understand what he means. Even after the moment passes, you still aren’t totally sure. To visit him is your first inclination. To help him move, your second. But he asks with such seriousness you can’t help but assume he’s asking you to move with him. 

“What?” You try to soften your surprise, stuffing every inch of smile back into a very neutral, normal set of lips. “And be miserable with you at your dad’s dealership?” you joke, a frazzled attempt to play off your nerves. 

“No,” he says incredulously. There’s a soft warmth to his cheeks, a lightness to his voice. “No, you know what I mean.” 

Your mouth opens and closes, your hands growing hotter the more you wring them in your lap. You really haven’t got a clue how serious he’s being. You're thrilled at the prospects of that possibility coming true, but tense with anticipation for how the rest of this conversation will play out. But reality takes the reigns and you're hit with a heavy realization. 

“Do you want to go back?” Your heart sinks down to your stomach hearing the words off your tongue. 

He looks away, a guilty sigh. “I think about it sometimes. I’d have more support there. Robin, Nance and Jon. All the kids, their parents.” His discomfort dissipates with a rough scrub to his cheek. “Sorry, I shouldn’t– I’m not asking you to. It was– was just an idea I had. Stupid.” 

“No, no. I’m not saying I wouldn’t– um sorry, I don’t– I don’t know what I’m saying.” 

He laughs, your stammering a comfort. “I’m being silly.” 

“You’re not,” you promise. 

His gaze traces the framed photo hung beside you on the wall. It’s one you’ve seen several times, a lovely piece of their life to look at. Somewhere outside, Penelope situated on his lap. She couldn’t have been more than two, with more rolls and fuller cheeks. 

“You know something?” Steve mumbles, voice breathy, trailing off in a wisp. 

“Hmm?” 

“I really wanted Penelope to be Elizabeth. Lizzie for short.”

Your lips twitch into an easy grin, focus rotating between him and the photo. “Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“I like that. It’s pretty.” 

“Yeah. I think so. Annie, not so much. She insisted on Penelope, after her great-grandma.” He shakes his head. Steve never even met her mother, let alone her great-grandmother. “I love it now obviously, I’d never change it, but it took a while to grow on me.”

“Elizabeth,” you chuckle, stuck in a one-sided staring contest with your favorite set of button eyes. They were just as cute then, but she’s really grown into them now. All her features have leveled out, her jaw more square, like Steve’s, her eyebrows darker and more defined. “I can’t picture it. She’s Penelope.” 

“Yeah, she’s Penelope alright.” His eyes flick to you, to watch you watch his daughter with a love so unique. “Maybe if I ever have another I’ll use Lizzie.” 

His words are like an electric shock. The idea of Steve with a second kid– a baby. Not a four-year-old who’s more of a tiny person than a baby. But a real baby with baby hair, baby clothes, and soft baby skin. Penelope’s newborn photos are enough to get you squealing with cuteness overload. You don’t know if you’d survive the real deal. 

“You want another?” You try not to sound surprised as you ask. 

“I dunno. I always pictured myself with more. But, I don’t think I could handle it. Nell’s a handful as it is.” 

“They’d keep each other busy,” you reason. “They say two’s easier than one.” 

“I don’t know about that.” He braces his elbow on the back of his chair, cheek pillowed in his palm as he looks at you. “But I do think about it. God, imagine Penelope with a baby sibling.” You swear his eyes shimmer as he says it. 

“She’d be such a good big sister.”

“She would,” he agrees. His heart thrums at the idea, faster the more his brain builds on it. “I dunno. Maybe if the right person comes along I would do it.” 

Under your chair, you nudge his calf with the side of your foot. “You’re a really good dad, you know. You’d manage.” 

He nods, not like he agrees but rather in recognition that your words are very kind. “Thanks.” 

“I mean it.”

“I know you do,” he smiles so fondly at you your stomach flips. “Okay. Can I ask you something kinda personal now?”

“Oh jeez,” you grimace. “Depends.”

“Come on, I just answered like, ten million questions about my life.”

You really can’t argue with him there. “Fine. Shoot.” 

“I just wanna know,” he smushes his lips together, gaze tapering off to one side of you like he’s thinking very hard about how to phrase this. “Why the fuck were all of my missing pens in the backseat of your car?” 

Realization strikes like the sharp rush of hitting your funny bone. Your jaw drops, straining with the ache of a repressed smile, and your tongue fights to find the least incriminating words possible. “What– I didn’t even– it’s not what it looks like, Steve, I swear.” 

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like, you little thief.” He digs into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cheap ballpoint pen, and slamming it on the table. 

“That could be anyone's!” you defend. You’re both itching to laugh. You can see it on his face as much as he can yours. 

Steve fishes out a second pen, then a third, and a fourth. He takes the fifth, a pink one with feathers shooting out the cap, and points the nib at your chest. “You know, this is my favorite pen! Penelope bought this for me at the book fair!” 

“I was going to give it back! I swear!” 

He pulls another three from his pocket and you’re done for. Laughing, almost wheezing in a hysterical breathlessness. You didn’t realize you’d stolen so many. You’ve been doing it slowly for months. 

“You’re sick for this. Only a psycho would do something like this.” 

You can barely keep your eyes open long enough to look at him. But you find a smile when you do, albeit blurry through unshed tears. “Steve.” 

He grabs a Sharpie from the pile and uncaps it, stealing your arm for his non-dominant hand to hold. Your sleeve is bunched up at your elbow, your wrist turned for optimal lighting. 

“Steve!” you gasp when the cold felt tip of the marker presses into your wrist. 

With a thumb pinning your pulse point, he scrawls PEN STEALER in big letters across your forearm. You hope on all things good in the world that he can’t feel how fast your blood is pumping through your skin. 

“That’s not gonna wash off!”

“Yeah, exactly,” he chuckles. “So everyone knows you steal pens!” 

“But I only steal your pens.” 

He scoffs. “I can't believe you. Here you had me thinking it was that old fart Lenny this whole time. Such a liar.” 

Something about Steve saying ‘old fart’ sends you completely over the edge. You haven’t had any real wine, but you feel almost tipsy, like everything is ten times funnier than usual. His hand staples your hip to the chair to keep you from sliding off as you double over. Your stomach cramps like it’s being twisted inside out. 

“I’m gonna write it on your forehead next,” he beams.

“No,” you gasp, weakly shoving his wrist away from your face. 

Steve’s strong, but he’s far from rough. His free hand settles on the back of your head, thumb and index finger clamping either side of your ear to keep you still. And you’re anything but. Your shoulders wrack with every cackle, and your head shakes with every nefarious warning. The Sharpie quivers its way closer and closer to your skin like a murder knife.

But just before the tip scrapes your browbone, your elbow stabs Steve’s tricep, hard enough to free the marker from his hand. It’s flung across the dining table, spinning off the edge with a final click against the floor. It’s uncapped, and very likely just permanently stained some part of his house black, but Steve couldn’t care less. 

All he can manage to care about in this moment is the way your eyes light up in victory. How your smile lines deepen and your breath shakes out to fan his face in short waves. How the weight of your head in his palm is a feeling that transcends almost all types of comfort he’s experienced before. 

“What now, Harrington?” you goad.

He shakes his head, smiling harder than you’ve ever seen him smile. He’s so close you can see the molars in the very back of his mouth. His eyes trickle down to your lips for a second so long you can’t help but hold your breath. 

“Daddy?”

Steve’s hands snap back to a more friendly place in his lap. “Hey, sweetheart. Hey. What’s the matter?” 

Penelope hustles to his chair, whimpers cut short every step. 

He tugs her up into his lap, tucking in her limbs one at a time. His palm, large but no less gentle, presses frizzy stalks of dark hair flat to her skull. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

“I didn’t know where you went,” she mewls. Her back trembles under his other hand, climbing up under her shirt and falling in long passes down her spine. 

“‘M sorry. We didn’t want to wake you, that’s why we came in here.” He pecks the closest point of her head. “Scared you, huh?” 

His attention on her doesn’t waver. Whatever version of himself he was with you vanished the instant he laid eyes on poor Penelope’s face. Dad Steve comes before any other Steve, Penelope before any other person. 

“Time is it?” she murmurs into his neck. 

“Late. Like way past your bedtime.” 

Penelope remembers you’re still there, turning in Steve’s arms to double-check. Her ruddy cheeks glisten under the dining room light, a heartbreaking frown to match. “Are you doing a sleepover?” she asks.  

You smile, though maybe you shouldn’t. She’s still frowning, but more upset that she might not have been invited to a sleepover that’s not even happening. 

“No, babe. I’ll be leaving soon. It’s past my bedtime too.” 

You think she replies but it’s more sound than coherent word. 

“Come on. Back to bed. Your real bed this time.” Steve lifts her sideways like Sleeping Beauty as he stands. “Say goodnight.” 

“I want your bed,” she says instead, slow blinking at Steve’s sweater. 

“But your stuffies will be so lonely,” he reasons. 

“I’ll bring them.”

“All of them?”

“Mhmm.” 

From the angle you’re sitting, you can’t see most of Penelope’s face, but judging by the look Steve sends you, you imagine it’s pretty damn cute. 

“Be right back,” he assures, adjusting his grip under her knees before he starts for her bedroom. 

Your gaze drops to the wooden spindles of the chair Steve occupied just a moment ago. He was going to kiss you— you’re almost certain of it. The weight of his hand clings to the back of your neck, a phantom touch. And the heaviness to his eyes, replete with intent, only a flash in your mind. Why else stare at someone’s lips for so long? 

You swipe the nearest wine glass and bare your teeth at your reflection. No food is caught between them, no crumbs on your face. You set the glass down. Steve was going to kiss you. Right? 

“Maybe, Penelope’s right?” 

You flinch at the suddenness of his voice, twisting around to find Steve back in the archway. 

He ambles up to the table, fingers wrapping around the back of your chair. “About a sleepover. All that wine, you know? Probably safer if you stayed the night.” 

You huff, not so much a laugh as a breath of air. There’s a blurry line somewhere between joking and flirting and you’re certain you’ve both crossed it tonight. 

“I can handle my pretend alcohol, Steve. Don’t you worry.” 

He sighs, a very theatric upswing to his voice. “If you say so.” 

You roll your eyes and stand. Steve collects the wine glasses to set in the sink and follows you to the front door silently. 

“Thanks for the food. And the wine,” you croon, stuffing into your shoes one at a time. 

“Thanks for driving us,” he replies as you look back up. 

You nod, eyes affixed to his. Not knowing what to say. Not wanting to leave. 

“Don’t forget to pick us up tomorrow.” 

“I have a better chance of winning the ugly sweater thing if I ditch you.”

“And break poor Penelope’s heart?” 

“I’ll sneak her out.” 

His chest shakes through a soundless laugh. “Oh, she’d love that.”

You tap his sweater with the tip of your car key. “I’ll pick you up at noon– if you’re lucky.”

There’s evidence of a long day in the dark crescents under his eyes, and still, he pulls the door open for you and says, “Call me when you’re home. Drive safe.” 

Love, admiration, attachment, whatever it is, it rolls through you like a pinball, shooting from one end of your ribcage to the other. To be cared for on such a level is a weightless kind of overwhelming. A good kind, if there is one. 

“Don’t wait up,” you reply. 

But you know he will regardless of whatever else you say. He’ll call you first, wake Penelope, and drive over to your place if he has to. 

So at home, you dial Steve’s number before you even take off your shoes. And he picks up before the end of the first ring. 

“Can I tell you something?” you ask as soon as the call connects. 

“Hmm?” 

He sounds half-asleep. You consider wishing him good night then, but you didn’t plan to say much to begin with. And you might never tell him if not now. 

“I just… I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in… maybe ever.” 

He smiles, you recognize the sound through the crackle of several miles. “Yeah,” he breathes, “Me neither.” 

There’s a beat. A soft inhale, exhale that shouldn’t sound as lovely as it does. “That’s all I wanted to tell you.” 

“See you tomorrow, pen stealer.”

“Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

The line clicks and you’re left to the stark silence of your home. Joy ripens into something richer, something fuller. You feel whole, like you hadn’t realized something was missing in the first place. 

[snoopychris]

aquarium

in which... chris takes mermaid!reader to the aquarium for the first time

sometimes the ocean served as an escape to you. the corals were beautiful, the animals were so friendly sometimes, and it felt so nice to spend time alone with your thoughts at times. at the very same time, sometimes it felt like a prison of sorts. the ocean, as big as it was, sometimes just felt so repetitive. you were 10 years old the first time your dad had let you go onto land on your own. ever since then, it had been such a relief. although a majority of nights were spent in the water, most of the day was spent on land. the places you visited would always vary, ranging from the beach to your dads restaurant to a different beach to a coffee shop and most recently, the sturniolo house. the friendship that had blossomed between you and chris was something you never expected to happen. you had a few friends on land, but there had never been anybody as adamant on hanging with you than chris. it felt like every time you grabbed your phone, there would be a text asking if you wanted to hang out. it was nice having a friend who seemed to really care.

chris was so grateful to finally have a drivers license. the last time he was here, he had to ask matt to drive him everywhere. this time he didnt. this time, chris could do whatever he wanted as long as his grandmother gave him the keys to a car. she never said no. in the past few weeks, chris had found himself spending a lot of time with you on random beaches you would tell him about.

some had nice fish, some had nice corals, some had lots of sea turtles, some had cool plants, some had cool tide pools. he didnt mind spending time on beaches with you, but sometimes it just wasnt enough. it especially wasnt enough since neither of you ever actually went swimming. he never questioned it– maybe you were just like him and afraid of the water.  sometimes, Chris wanted more. he wanted to be able to take you on nice dates to nice restaurants. 

this was the first time he convinced you to leave the comfort of beaches and his house. something about your entire being drew him towards the aquarium. in small talk conversation, you had told him you’d never been. he had seen people all over his social media apps talking about how it’s one of the most romantic places to take your partner. he knew that you may not have been anywhere near dating, but he just had to take you. your hair was swaying in the wind, the pastel highlights you had recently gotten really showing through. chris wants to kiss you. he knows he can’t, but he really really wants to. 

Chris can’t help but smile when he sees your face light up every time you talk about fish and other sea creatures. he wants to ask how you have such close experience with the blue ringed octopus, but he’s sure that you’ll tell

him the story one day. he wonders how you’ve gone so long living in the Keys and never having gone to the aquarium. chris doesn’t take long to park, but he spends a good minute staring at you. god, you’re beautiful. he runs over to the passenger side of his grandfathers old car, opening the door for you. you send him a small thank you and make your way towards the front door of the building. 

chris feels a blush creep onto his face when your eyes widen in amusement at all of the sea themed decorations. he could’ve gotten the tickets online, but he thought it’d take away from the experience. he makes his way to the cashier, making sure you’re following close behind. both of you recognize the girl standing behind the counter— she’s a girl name kaylynn. you know her for all the wrong reasons. chris knows her for all the right ones. you lick your lips as a look of anger grows on your face. kaylynn tries to be friendly for a second, she really does.

it doesn’t last. “chris… hanging out with the burger girl i see. y’know… you could always hang out with me. we could go to the beach and watch the turtles” she quips. your face contorts as you hold back a response. you could say a lot right now. the look on chris’ face is the only thing holding you back. a small scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes, being met with another comment about your fathers restaurant. you should hold back. not for your sake but for chris’. whatever. you mumble it at first, earning a look from kaylynn. it’s one that screams ‘too scared to fight back?’ you can’t have that. not today. 

“oh my apologies kaylynn. guess you didn’t hear me. so what i said was that you’re a two faced pick me bitch.” if chris wasn’t in shock before, he is now. “pearl!” he yells quietly, his eyebrows high and his mouth hung low. “i’m being honest.” you whisper, snatching the tickets from the girl and walking away. if you could wipe that grin off her face, you would. chris jogs over to you after sending poor kaylynn a semi-apologetic look, gripping onto your wrist gently. 

“what’s that all about?” he asks, letting go of your hand when you sit down on a bench. from what you can tell it’s made of old treasure boxes. “she acts like she cares about all the fish and all the other animals but once i saw her scuba diving and literally stepping on coral with her water shoes. i also saw her litter on a beach.” you explain, crossing your arms. chris shakes his head, running fingers through his hair. “yeah that’s definitely a good excuse for disliking her.” he chuckles, looking around. the two of you still haven’t even entered the aquarium. “here cmon.” he whispers. his hand locks with yours, dragging you to the main attraction. you gasp slightly at the sights you were seeing. even though a lot of the tanks were beautifully decorated, covered in vines and corals, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the fish. some of them were speaking to you. you wished you could help them.

chris can’t help but smile when you put your hand on one of the tanks. you look even more beautiful against the water. “do you um… wanna go swimming with stingrays? they have that here…” your eyes widen at his words. you’re not too sure if it’s because you know this isnt the right place for stingrays or if it’s because there’s open water. a way for you to get caught. you were always careful at the beach. if anything happened you could run away for a bit, dry off, and then come back. if anything happened here there was no escape. chris quickly notices your expression, shaking his head “don’t worry i’m not a fan either! not after steve irwin.” he jokes, continuing to pull you along. you actually really liked stingrays. they were cool. 

you follow close behind chris, hand in hand the entire time. you’d never had a friend guide you like this. it feels nice. every time he turns a corner, there’s more and more fish speaking to you telepathically. it’s something you wanted to turn off sometimes. but others it was nice to hear them when you were swimming alone. “can we get out of here? i feel bad for the fish.” you whisper. chris’ gaze towards you softens, leading you away from the crowds. there’s kids around you screaming. there’s a water table nearby. you hear about it from one of the fish. you gasp slightly at the sight of it, gripping chris’ hand tighter. in your mind, you’re petrified. in chris’ mind, you just like holding his hand. luckily, you make it to the gift shop dry. 

the first thing your hands fly to is a small shark plush. you don’t know why you’re so drawn to it, but you know you just need to have it. chris chuckles, grabbing a similar one. they’re almost identical, the only difference coming from the style of shark. “they’re palm pals. take it.  i’ll buy it for you.” he smiles. you smile back, setting it down on the counter. you feel bad spending his money, but chris feels bad not buying you more. on the way out of the gift shop, you begin to speak. “thank you. this was nice. i know we weren’t here for long but… you’re a good friend chris.” it sends a pang towards chris’ heart, but he knows that you really are nothing more than friends, despite your hands still being intertwined. he shrugs, jokingly flexing his arms next to the car. “it’s what i do.” he smiles, opening the door for you. he grabs onto your hand as you climb in, the roof over your head being a nice comfort. it was a feeling so vastly different from the one inside. there was no water here. 

it’s a bit crazy when you arrive to chris’ house. the drive is only about 25 minutes, and yet in those 25 minutes, the previously clear skies had turned dark grey. it was pouring. chris gently turns the keys out of the ignition, turning towards you. you’re filled with panic again, but your poker face is so spot on that chris doesn’t notice. “y’ready?” he asks, nudging your shoulder. you glance up at him and then outside , shaking your head. “let’s just talk till the rain dies down.” you shrug, pushing your tinseled hair away from your face. chris is never going to decline that offer. the land sometimes felt like an escape. it was such a shame that there were things you’d never be able to do. as much as you hated to admit it, if the ocean was a prison, so was the land. both places you could be at the same time. a strange feeling arises in your stomach when you realize that the only place you’re truly free is any place that you’re with chris.

🫧dividers by @13hoax my angel

🫧tags(reply or message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333@wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @zebonos @chrislova @muwapsturniolo @oopsiedaisydeer @throatgoat4u @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @zebonos @ribbonlovergirl @colorthecosmos444

🫧a/n: this ending was rushed can you tell :/ if you see this within the first few minutes of me positng it ignore how the layout looks. anyway welcome back cgs chris i missed you.

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

-

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

-

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

-

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

-

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

[koolades-world]

Hello! I hope your having a great day! I saw that requests are open briefly so I have one:

Reactions to Luke calling MC "Mom" and MC just rolling with it before they both realize what he said

Like MC helps him with something and Luke says something like "Thanks Mom!" And MC's like "Sure thing, Sweetie" before they're both like 0_0

hi!!!!! this is soooo cute omg! i love how your requests have all been luke centric. love that little guy, he deserves more attention

was unsure what characters you wanted done, so i decided to do the brothers. since it's you, if you'd like the other characters done too, just leave a comment or send a message letting me know, and i'll have it done by sunday :)

The brothers react to Luke calling Mc "Mom"

Lucifer

his heart isn’t made out of stone, so now, luke has a newer nickname bestowed to him by lucifer himself

“son”

it’s simple but it really gets to him. luke isn’t sure if chihuahua or son is worse

he tried getting lucifer back by calling him dad but it didn’t really work the way he wanted it to. it most definitely backfired on him and now he keeps accidentally saying it

Mammon

is now expecting luke to call him dad /hj lowkey mad that lucifer got the privilege first

mammon has always said he and luke have the same eyes... if he is your son, then he is now luke's father. he is ready to accept this position LOL

while you and luke are stewing in the awkwardness, of course he walks in and bluntly asks what happened

and that day marked his journey into fatherhood haha

Levi

he’s not very subtle about hiding his amusement

luke’s loud protesting only made him laugh harder

now when around luke he may or may not randomly burst out laughing because he remembered that moment

way to rub salt in the wound levi haha

Satan

he was there when it happened actually, because the three of you were doing homework together

he actually thought it was so cute, but tried to hide it because he knew luke would be embarrassed

he knew how he would feel if he accidentally called lucifer dad so he wouldn’t want to add insult to injury

luke is very grateful for how he responded :)

Asmo

he’s for sure giggling like a mad man about it

despite the fact that luke is bright red and you looked half overjoyed half sentimental, he snaps a photo for the memories

will look at it in two days and awe over it nostalgically like it happened years ago

seemingly, every time luke tries to delete this photo, it pops up in his life mysterious again. most recently, he found a printed out version at the bottom of his bowl of soup at dinner

Beel

he thinks it was really quite cute

to him, it’s so endearing that the two of you have such a close relationship. he values family more than anything else so he’s glad the two of you have a little found family

the devildom isn’t exactly welcoming after all

he doesn’t rub it in, but he holds that memory near and dear to his heart <3

Belphie

he is NEVER letting luke live this down

and I mean never

whenever he’s talking to luke about you, he’ll call you his mom instead of mc

“hey luke, your mom told me to bring this tupperware back to you from the cookies you sent over yesterday” “THAT WAS ONE TIME”

[jclolz22]

i belong with you — tashi duncan

tashi duncan x fem!reader word count: 1.4k

author's note: please pretend the last picture isn't two white girls, and i’m sorry if this writing isn’t up to par, because i’ve never really written like this before so the bar is low... also thank you to annie for this idea/request; i love your brain

After an intense match against UCLA and a particularly grueling week filled with practice, practice, and more practice, Tashi was more than happy to get back to her dorm. It’s tough being Stanford’s star tennis player, regardless of how easy she makes it seem. Seeing you there waiting for her made her even happier and grateful that her week was over, so she could finally rest, decompress, and destress with you. “Hey, baby,” you started saying to her as you watched her place her tennis bag down next to her desk. Her fatigue made her even more glad to see you. 

“Hey. I am absolutely exhausted,” she tells you as she sits down in between your spread legs on the floor, her back pressed up against your chest. She couldn’t help but let out a content sigh as you gently ran your hands up and down her arms.

Though, she was a little confused as to how you managed to get into her room. “Wait… how’d you even get in here?” You laugh at her obliviousness, and tell her “I may or may not have managed to snag your key this morning. You’re telling me you didn’t realize your door was unlocked when you came in here just now?”

Tashi sits up, creating a small space between the two of you, and she turns her head to look back at you. “Um, no? I didn’t even think about that, honestly. You know how busy I’ve been this week.” You nod, acknowledging the week she’s had and how tiring it’s been for her. “I know, babe, I know. I just find it a bit funny, is all.” 

You pull on her hair tie, making sure to be gentle while letting her curls free from the ponytail they were just in. She turns her head to face forward again, and lets you run your hands through them before separating her hair into three equal parts to braid it. It’s no shock to you that Tashi enjoys the feeling, and the fact that you’re always so careful and tender makes it even better.

“Wanna hear what happened to me yesterday?” You figure that talking about something that happened to you could maybe make her feel less stressed and get her mind off her weariness for a little bit. She lets out an “Mhm,” and you start to tell her your story as you bring each section of hair over one another to make the braid. “Alright, so I had to stay after class yesterday to talk to my professor, and she asked me like, the funniest and stupidest question. And it was the old one, y’know, for my writing class.” Now she’s more intrigued, because what kind of question could your professor ask you that’s funny and stupid? She knows who you’re talking about, though, and she has a little bit of a suspicion. “What’d she ask you?”

You laughed and continued to braid her hair. “Remember how she saw us kiss last week?” “Yeah,” she says and you carry on with your story. “Well, she first told me that she really liked my last paper, and then asked me if you were my ‘best friend!’” 

You think back to that moment, and you remember how you couldn’t contain your laughter. You literally laughed in your professor’s face after she asked you that. Maybe it was a little rude, but you weren’t expecting her to ask you something about your personal life, nor were you expecting her to totally deny the fact that you’re dating Tashi. 

“Uhm… no, Dr. Clark, she’s not my best friend. She’s my girlfriend, actually.” You told her after your laughter ceased. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to offend. So you and Tashi, you’re… girlfriends?” She sounded a bit confused, and you could tell that she hadn’t actually had ill intentions. “Yes, ma’am, we are. Actual girlfriends, not just ‘best friends’ or ‘girls who are friends.’” A look of realization dawned on her face, and she apologized again. “I see. Well, I do apologize, again. Truly, I didn’t mean to be rude. I hope you can forgive my ignorance.” And you did. It was a misunderstanding, and you knew that you shouldn’t hold a grudge against her for growing up in a different time period when she didn’t have control over it. 

“Are you being serious? She asked if we’re best friends?” Tashi’s voice is even, but you get the feeling that it’s teetering on upset. “I mean, yeah, she did ask that, but obviously I told her you’re my girlfriend. Like, my actual girlfriend. And besides, she was just a little confused. You know she’s all old and… senile, I guess. She didn’t actually mean any harm; I cleared up any confusion she had.” You had to make sure Tashi knew that, or else she’d want to have a word with your professor. “But she basically ignored the fact that we’re dating,” she starts, but you quickly stop her. 

“Look, I get how it sounds, but it’s not like that, okay? She really just didn’t understand, and I helped her. It’s fine, Tash. She grew up in a way different time, it’s not her fault.” She sighed quietly and agreed, calming down to let you finish. 

“I’m proud of you, y’know. For winning today.” You say softly to her, changing the subject. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling. “I do know, actually. You always remind me. But thank you.” And by the sound of her voice, she is happy and flattered.

As soon as you finished braiding her hair, you placed delicate kisses along the exposed skin of her left shoulder, leading up to her neck and the spot right under her ear that gets a small shiver out of her every time. “Come on, wanna read The Great Gatsby again?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tashi turns her head back to kiss your cheek before standing up and holding her hand out for you to take. You place your hand in hers and stand up too, grabbing the book from her shelf and reminiscing a bit when you see how beat up it is, and thinking about how many annotations there are in the margins from the numerous times you two took turns reading it individually before you’d read it together.

She’s already laying down, head propped up on a pillow. You smile at the sight, this beautiful girl before you, and the fact that she’s yours. “You look pretty comfy there, don’t ya.” You send a wink her way and you love the giggle it gets out of her. You’ll never tire of hearing it; never tire of her. 

“C’mere,” she starts, and you can’t help but oblige. After handing her the book, you climb onto the bed and cuddle up close to her, laying your head on her other pillow. “This is one of my favorites. And you can’t lie, I know it’s one of yours, too.” She laughs a bit, before saying “Well I wasn’t going to say anything to refute that.” 

“Sure you weren’t. I know how stubborn you are, Tashi. You like to argue just for the sake of arguing.” Now she’s rolling her eyes, which is very Tashi of her. “How about you just shut up and read the book already. Please?” She lifts her head up and you see the pout forming. She then peppers kisses all over your face, trying to butter you up. You, being the weak woman you are, can’t stop yourself from giving in and starting the first chapter. 

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’”

As you continue reading through the chapter, with Tashi’s head resting on your shoulder and her body pressed up against yours under the covers, you can’t help but think about everything that’s led to this moment. Even something so small, like re-reading one of your shared favorite books, is meaningful and special.

Tashi feels the same way, even though she won’t admit it. Not yet, anyway. And she’s always known that she belongs on the tennis court. It’s ingrained in her, practically since the day she departed from her mother’s womb. But in her heart, she also knows that she belongs with you. Nothing and no one can ever change that.

[cumironi]

I know you said no physical insecurities in your rules but would it be okay to request scar worship?? (It sounds rlly weird to type this out 💀), but like a Satoru and/or sugu just giving attention to old (sh) scars?? Sfw or nsfw I just never find fics with some comfort in that area 🙏❤️❤️

SCARS TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL : GETO SUGURU, GOJO SATORU

all scars and everything, you are still the most beautiful girl to your boyfriends. and they will always remind you, every single day until they leave no room for you to feel insecure.

warning. abuse mention, scars, very, very, very suggestive, gojo being perverted as always.

wc. | masterlist

growing up with your parents as higher-ups in the jujutsu world, life was anything but easy. they were known for their authority, their unyielding standards, and their strictness, especially when it came to you. mistakes were never an option. one mistake meant one new scar, a reminder of your failure and their punishment. your body was a canvas of their expectations, etched with marks of their disappointment, each scar telling a story of falling short in their eyes. it didn't matter how hard you tried, how much you pushed yourself—your best was never enough.

being the child of jujutsu higher-ups meant the pressure was relentless. they expected nothing less than perfection. you were supposed to be a mirror of their greatness, a reflection of their power and control. yet, no matter how much you tried to live up to their impossible standards, it always seemed like you were just one step behind. a test that wasn't aced, a cursed technique that wasn't mastered quickly enough—everything was a reason for punishment. their words were sharp, cutting deeper than the bruises or scars that littered your skin.

coming home was never something you looked forward to. every visit was like stepping into a battlefield, knowing you were likely to leave with fresh wounds. sometimes it was bruises, sometimes cuts—whatever they felt was fitting for the mistake you had made, no matter how minor. it was always justified in their eyes, framed as discipline. they believed they were shaping you into something stronger, but all it ever did was break you down, piece by piece.

that morning at school, you had just returned from another visit home. you walked through the doors, the familiar hallways closing in around you as you pulled your uniform tighter, trying to cover the fresh bruise on your cheek. it wasn’t just your face; your body ached from the newest round of punishment, though you tried your best to hide it. the bruises were a deep purple and blue, hidden beneath your clothes, but the one on your face was impossible to conceal, no matter how much you tried to keep your head down.

the higher-ups, your parents included, had told the school that you were ‘sick.’ it was their usual excuse, a cover for why you wouldn’t be attending classes that day. it wasn’t the first time. the staff knew better than to ask questions. they all knew who your parents were, knew the kind of authority they wielded. no one dared to cross them. so when they said you needed a free pass to skip class, the school complied without hesitation. no one pressed you for details, and in some ways, you were grateful for that. but the silence was suffocating too. no one ever asked what really happened. no one dared to step in.

you made your way to your dorm where you always went to hide, trying to keep your head down and avoid any curious glances. you didn’t want anyone to see, didn’t want to answer the questions that might come if someone noticed the bruises. but at the same time, a part of you wished someone would—someone who would actually care enough to ask, to do something about it.

as you sat down on the floor, the ache in your body intensified, a reminder of the night before. you could still hear their voices in your head, cold and disappointed, reminding you of how much of a failure you were in their eyes. they never said it outright, but their punishments spoke louder than any words could.

as you sat down on the floor of your dorm, the pain from the fresh bruises radiated through your body. you winced as you reached to pull off your shirt, trying your best to be gentle so as not to aggravate the soreness. your back, a canvas of bruises, scars, and pain, was fully exposed, each mark a reminder of years under your parents' heavy expectations. it wasn't the first time you had come back like this, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. still, you always tried to keep it hidden, especially from those closest to you. the last thing you wanted was pity or questions you didn’t want to answer.

just as you were about to pull the shirt over your head, the dorm door swung open without warning. you froze, panic instantly flooding your body. you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—there was only one person who would enter so casually. gojo's familiar voice filled the room, excited and light, like it always was when he saw you. “hey! guess what—” his voice cut off mid-sentence. the excitement drained from his tone, replaced by stunned silence.

geto, always more observant, had been right behind him, his usually calm demeanor now faltering as his eyes landed on your back. their eyes were glued to you, to the countless scars and bruises that decorated your skin. they'd never seen you without your shirt on. sure, they were your boyfriends, but you had always made sure to keep this part of yourself hidden from them. they had no idea about the scars, about the pain that came with them, or the story behind each one.

their silence was deafening, and you could feel the weight of their stares pressing down on you. your heart raced, and before they could say anything, you scrambled to grab the blanket beside you. with shaky hands, you pulled it over your body, shielding yourself from their shocked gazes.

“learn how to knock!” you screamed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and embarrassment. you couldn’t bear to turn around and face them. the last thing you wanted was for them to see you like this, to see the side of you you had worked so hard to keep hidden. you didn’t want their pity, didn’t want to answer their questions, and most of all, you didn’t want them to look at you any differently than before.

but the silence stretched on, and you could feel their presence lingering in the doorway, neither of them knowing what to say.

“y/n…” gojo’s usually carefree voice was unusually quiet as he stood there, his eyes fixated on your trembling frame. never in his life had he seen you like this. he’d known there were scars, had seen subtle hints before. but this? this was different. this was a reality check he didn’t know he needed.

meanwhile, geto stood silently behind him, frozen in place. his eyes roved over the expanse of your exposed skin you weren't properly covered, a mix of horror and anger bubbling up inside of him. neither of them had ever expected this, had never really let themselves consider that your parents were abusive.

the silence in the room was deafening. gojo could feel the weight of the moment pressing against his chest, his heart heavy with a mix of shock, anger, and—yes, he could admit it now—pity. you weren’t looking at them, your body still hidden beneath the blanket, but the trembling of your shoulders told him everything he needed to know. you were hurt, scared, and he could do nothing but stand there, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for not seeing it sooner.

your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of their silence pressing down on you. gojo’s voice, normally light and teasing, was now quiet—too quiet. hearing him like that made your stomach twist. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the pity that was surely there in his eyes. and geto… he hadn’t said a word, but you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and burning. it made your skin crawl, your scars feeling even more exposed under their scrutiny.

the trembling of your shoulders grew worse, and you clenched the blanket tighter around you. they weren’t supposed to see this. no one was. they were supposed to laugh, to tease you about something stupid, not stand there in stunned silence, realizing the ugly truth you’d hidden for so long. you didn’t need their sympathy. you didn’t want it. and yet, the tension in the room was suffocating, their presence overwhelming.

“just go,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly despite your efforts to stay strong. you didn’t want them here, not like this. not seeing you so vulnerable, so broken. but they didn’t move. you felt them still standing there, their heavy breaths filling the silence. your frustration boiled over, and you raised your voice, “i said, go!”

the words came out harsher than you intended, laced with anger and shame. you couldn’t stand it—their pity, the way gojo's usual carefree attitude was nowhere to be found, the way geto was too quiet, too still. you didn’t want to see whatever emotions were swirling in their eyes. you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to explain.

the coldness in your voice stung gojo's heart in a way he hadn't expected. he'd always seen you as tough, able to handle anything they threw at you. but this was different. this was raw, real pain. and he'd never been more aware of his own ignorance.

geto, too, was wrestling with his emotions. he’d always prided himself on being able to read you better than anyone, but right now, he felt useless. he wanted to reach out, to hold you, to make it better—but he didn’t know how. the silence continued to stretch on.

gojo and geto were stuck in a limbo. they didn’t know what to do, what to say. a part of them desperately wanted to help, to fix it—but they knew they couldn’t just wave a magic wand and make your pain disappear.

finally, gojo took that cautious step forward, his heart ached in a way he wasn’t used to. this wasn’t something he could laugh off or tease you about. it was real—too real. seeing you like this, so broken, so vulnerable, tore him apart. he swallowed hard, pushing through the knot in his throat as he approached you.

“y/n…” he whispered again, softer this time, as if the words might break the fragile silence between you. without waiting for permission, he knelt down behind you, careful not to startle you. his usual confidence was gone, replaced by a deep sense of care and uncertainty. gently, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth, his embrace cautious but firm, like he was trying to protect you from the very pain that had already hurt you.

his cheek rested against your back, and he could feel the tension in your body—the way you stiffened at first, trying to resist. but he didn’t let go. “oh, my baby…” the words slipped out, his voice barely above a whisper. there was no humor, no teasing like he usually did. this was different. all he wanted was to let you know he was there, that he saw you—really saw you—and wasn’t going anywhere.

his grip tightened just slightly, enough to hold you close but not enough to hurt. he could feel the scars beneath his cheek, the rough texture of skin that had been marked by years of abuse, and it made his chest tighten with anger—anger at the people who had done this to you, anger at himself for not knowing sooner.

“what… what are you doing?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, unable to turn around. the warmth of gojo’s arms wrapped around you gently from behind, his presence immediately soothing the chaos swirling inside you. his embrace was steady, familiar, and though he didn’t say anything at first, just feeling him there made the storm inside you calm ever so slightly.

“just here with you,” gojo murmured softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. he held you as if he could protect you from everything, his hands resting lightly on your sides, careful not to hurt you. his touch was careful, more delicate than usual, as if he was afraid to break you further. the warmth of his body pressed against yours felt grounding, like a lifeline pulling you back from the weight of everything.

suddenly, the door slammed shut with a loud thud, and you flinched at the sound, startled by the intensity. you didn’t have to turn around to know it was geto—his anger hung heavy in the air. the slam was full of frustration, not at you, but at the situation, at what you had been through without them knowing. he hated that you had been hiding this from them, that you had carried the burden alone.

without a word, geto knelt beside you on the floor. you could feel the tension radiating off him, but when he reached out to gently stroke your hair, his touch was the opposite of the storm raging inside him. it was soft, careful, meant to comfort rather than frighten. he shifted closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze, his hand moving to rest on your cheek.

the moment your eyes met his, something inside you shattered. his gaze was so soft, filled with concern, understanding, and something deeper that made the tears you had been holding back spill over. your breath hitched, and you tried to blink them away, but it was too late. the dam broke, and tears streamed down your face, silent but heavy with everything you had been holding in.

gojo and geto had never seen you like this, so raw, so fragile. it was a stark contrast to the strong facade you usually put on. but here, in this moment, there were no masks to hide behind. it broke their hearts to see you cry, to realize just how much pain you’d been in without them even knowing.

gojo felt like the biggest fool. all this time, he’d been blissfully ignorant, cracking jokes and teasing you about everything under the sun, while you were struggling with something so heavy, so painful.

geto was wrestling with a different set of emotions. anger, concern, sorrow—he was drowning in them all. all this time, he’d thought he knew you so well; he’d prided himself on his ability to understand you, to read beneath the surface. but he was wrong. he’d missed this—the scars, the pain, the whole world of trauma you’d been hiding from them.

gojo’s mind was racing. he wanted to say so many things—apologize for not noticing sooner, assure you they were here now, that they wouldn’t let anything hurt you again. but the words stuck in his throat, overpowered by the anger that was pooling in his stomach. how could he have missed this? how could he not have known?

since that day, they’ve been nothing but supportive, never prying or pushing for answers, but always there. they didn’t need to ask further, because they understood—every scar, every bruise carried a story, and they knew enough to know you’d share only when you were ready. they tried their best not to trigger those feelings or bring back the memories of your trauma. instead, they focused on making sure you knew one thing above all else: that to them, you were beautiful, inside and out.

they never missed a moment to remind you, whether through words or actions. they worshipped your scars as much as they worshipped you, tracing every mark on your body as if each one deserved to be honored. they would tell you how soft you felt, how warm your skin was, how beautiful you looked in their eyes—how, to them, you were everything.

like now, the three of you were laying on the cramped bed in your dorm, naked bodies tangled together in a mess of sheets and limbs. the bed was just right for you, but adding two boyfriends, both tall and broad like electric poles, made the space almost laughably small. not that you were complaining—you loved it. the closeness, the way you fit perfectly between them, feeling safe and cherished.

you lay nestled between them, your head resting on geto’s bare chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. gojo was behind you, his warmth pressed against your back. his hand ran gently over your scars, his fingers tracing the faded lines and new bruises with a kind of reverence. he wasn’t trying to avoid them—he embraced them as part of you, as part of what made you you.

“god, you’re beautiful,” gojo murmured against your skin, his voice soft and filled with awe, like he still couldn’t believe he had you here with him. then, he leaned down and kissed your back, right where the scars were. it wasn’t out of pity, but out of pure adoration. his lips lingered, warm and soft, as if he was trying to kiss away every bit of pain that had ever been inflicted on you.

“yeah, absolutely stunning,” geto echoed, his hand stroking your hair, fingers carefully tangling in the strands, almost reverently. his touch was gentle, in stark contrast to his usual tough demeanor. but with you, he always softened, always seemed more gentle, more loving.

he met gojo’s eyes over your head, sharing a look of understanding. they both knew they couldn’t erase your past, couldn’t make the scars disappear. but they could make sure that from now on, every touch, every kiss would be filled with nothing but love, respect, and care.

geto could see it in gojo’s actions, in every gentle touch and every soft word—the way he loved you without flinching at the scars or the memories they represented. and he knew, without a doubt, that he felt the same.

“my baby, so beautiful,” geto whisper, kissing the top of your head.

gojo continued to kiss your back, his lips tracing over each scar, marking them with his love and adoration. he knew that each mark was a part of you, a piece of the journey that had led you to them. he mumbled against your skin, his voice raspy with emotion. “our darling girl. you’re perfect. every single part of you.”

geto’s hand moved down to your waist, gently pulling you closer against his body. he wanted you to feel all of them, every inch of their warmth and love.

he looked up from your head to meet gojo’s gaze again, a wordless conversation passing between them. they wouldn’t ask you to share more, not until you were ready. instead, they would show you every day, in every action and word, how much they accepted and loved you, scars and all.

you suddenly burst into soft laughter, the sound breaking through the peaceful silence of the moment. gojo had just kissed that one specific spot on your back—right where it always tickled, no matter how serious the moment. you wriggled slightly, trying to pull away, but gojo’s arms were already around you, his chest pressed against your back.

“toruuuu, that tickles,” you said through your laughter, dragging his name, almost whining, your voice a little breathless as you squirmed in his hold.

gojo smirked and held you tighter, pinning you in place against him. a mischievous gleam shone in his eyes as he purposely nuzzled his face where he knew you were ticklish, his scruff scratching your skin.

“awh, does it?” he teased, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “my bad. i had no idea,” he said, his words followed by another kiss to the same spot. geto, who had been watching the scene unfold, couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. he knew gojo’s game well—the two of them had this banter down to a science. and he had to admit, seeing the way gojo could make you laugh and squirm like that was adorable.

he shifted slightly, his hand still on your waist, and leaned over to whisper into your ear, “you’re trapped now, you know that? escape is impossible.”

your soft laughter quickly turned into full-blown, uncontrollable giggles as gojo doubled down on his attack, his scruff lightly scratching against your skin as he kissed the same ticklish spot over and over. you squirmed against him, trying to get away, but he had you pinned tightly against him, refusing to let you go.

“satoru, stop!” you gasped between fits of laughter, your body wriggling as you tried to escape. but he wasn’t letting up, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and laugh.

gojo was absolutely loving this. your laughter was music to his ears, and seeing you so playfully helpless in his arms gave him a rush unlike anything else.

he shook his head, his smirk only growing wider as he continued his relentless barrage of gentle kisses and scruff-rubs against your back. “aw, come on, dollface. i’m just enjoying your adorable little squirming,” he teased, his tone oozing with faux-innocence.

geto was sitting to the side, an amused smile on his face at the sight of you struggling against gojo’s ticklish attack. he could relate—he’d been caught in that trap before many times.

“better accept your fate, love. you’re not going nowhere with this big idiot on you like that,” he chimed in, enjoying the show as he watched you wriggle and squirm in vain.

you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe, your whole body squirming in gojo’s arms as he kept up his playful assault. the more you struggled, the more determined he seemed to become, thoroughly enjoying your helplessness. “gojo, i swear—” you gasped between fits of laughter, your sides aching from how hard you were laughing.

his scruff tickled unbearably, and the teasing kisses were too much. you managed to squeak out between laughs, “i’m gonna piss myself if you don’t stop!”

when you threatened to pee, his eyes widened. “oh no no no, we definitely don’t want that,” he rushed out, quickly shifting his grip on you.

gojo chuckled and finally, finally let up, his lips leaving your back with one final kiss. he was feeling rather proud of himself for getting you to laugh this hard, a cheeky grin on his face. geto, next to you, couldn’t help but laugh at the duo. “oh yeah, you better stop right there, or you’re cleaning the bed by yourself.”

gojo made a show of grimacing at the threat, feigning despair. “oh, come on! I was just having a little bit of fun!”

he carefully moved you off his chest and settled you between him and geto, making sure you were comfortably nestled between them. his arm snaked around your shoulders, pulling you close against him, while his other hand reached out to playfully punch geto in the arm.

“thanks a lot, suguru. now you’ve gone and ruined my fun,” he grumbled, his expression clearly exaggerated.

but he couldn’t resist teasing you a bit more, his mischievous eyes locking with yours. “though i can think of a few other activities that might make you lose control like that,” he added with a sly wink.

you chuckled, your laughter finally calming as you shifted onto your side, turning to face gojo. the teasing glint in his eyes made you roll yours, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. you leaned in closer, brushing your nose lightly against his before closing the gap between you with a soft kiss.

“you’re such a pervert,” you mumbled against his lips, the words playful, even affectionate.

gojo grinned against your kiss, clearly pleased with himself. you pulled back just a little, resting your forehead against his. “and for the record, we just finished,” you added with a smirk, “so i’m not gonna do that again, no matter how much you try to make me. no more sex.”

gojo groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow in defeat. his hand slid down your back, moving to your hip and giving it a gentle squeeze. “aww, come onnnnn,” he whined, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes, trying to look like the epitome of innocence (which he’s far from ever being).

geto chimed in, chuckling at gojo’s plight. “you can’t blame him for trying,” he said with a smirk, “he’s just not good at denying his needs.”

gojo shot geto a mock-glare. “hey, i can definitely deny my needs,” he protested, pouting a little. “i just don’t see why i have to when i’ve got such a beautiful, available girl right here.”

he shifted slightly, pulling you closer against him. his arm wrapped around your waist, his touch possessive and gentle at the same time. “you really gonna leave a poor guy hanging?” he teased, batting his eyelashes at you.

you groaned, rolling your eyes at gojo’s dramatic display, his puppy-dog eyes doing nothing to sway you this time. “god, you’re such an animal,” you muttered, turning onto your back and pulling the sheet up to cover your naked body, playfully keeping yourself out of his reach.

gojo let out another melodramatic sigh and dramatically draped his arm over his eyes, as if he was about to lose his mind. “you’re killing me here, dollface. i’ll die without it, i swear.”

as you covered yourself up, blocking his access to your body, he pouted again, trying to look pitiful, but the effect was ruined by the amused twinkle in his eyes.

he shifted, his hand reaching out to gently tug at the edge of the sheet, attempting to pull it off you again. “come on, dollface, don’t be like that,” he whined, feigning a wounded expression. geto was watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and fond annoyance. “oh, you’ll live,” he said, rolling his eyes at his dramatic friend. “just give it a rest for five minutes, will you?”

gojo huffed, pouting dramatically and throwing geto a glare. “way to stick up for me,” he grumbled, his eyes shifting back to you, his expression now a playful mix of pleading and mock-desperation.

he reached out again, his hand running along your bare hip, fingers tracing gentle circles. “come on, dollface, pleeeasse? don’t be mean to me like this,” he pleaded, his voice thick with fake-anguish. geto let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you’re pathetic,” he sighed fondly.

you sighed, slapping gojo’s hand lightly as it continued its slow, teasing circles on your hip. “i’m tired,” you said firmly, though your voice held a teasing edge. “you couldn’t stop last time, and i really don’t want to break my bed.”

gojo let out another melodramatic sigh, his hand stilling on your hip. he knew when he was beat, but that didn’t stop him from trying one last plea. “but dollface, i promise i’ll be gentle this time,” he pleaded, his eyes widening in mock-innocence. “i’ll be as quiet as a mouse, i swear.”

geto snorted, covering his mouth to hide his laughter. he knew gojo was just playing it up, but it was hard not to find the entire scene amusing.

you glanced at gojo sideways, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. he looked so ridiculous with his wide, pleading eyes, trying his best to look innocent when you knew better. shaking your head, you let out a soft chuckle.

“you’re so stupid,” you teased, still laughing as you playfully pushed him away.

gojo made yet another melodramatic face, pretending to be heartbroken by your rejection. “aw, come on, dollface,” he whined, his bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “don’t be like that. i’m practically a saint. i can be on my best behavior.”

geto shook his head, his face full of amusement. “yeah, and i’m the pope,” he added, skepticism dripping from his tone.

you turned your head to look at geto, the sound of his teasing remark sending you into a fit of laughter. it was too easy to get caught up in the playful banter, and the contrast between gojo’s melodrama and geto’s dry humor made it even more enjoyable.

“god, he’s so needy,” you muttered, shaking your head as you pressed your forehead against geto’s bare arm, relishing the warmth of his skin against your cheek.

gojo let out a huff, feigning offense at your words. “I’m not needy!” he protested, his voice brimming with faux-indignance. “I’m just very… passionate, that’s all.”

geto rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face. “yeah, passionate about getting between her legs,” he quipped wryly, earning a glare from gojo.

gojo crossed his arms, still playing the part of the offended party. “i’m wounded, truly,” he said, shaking his head dramatically. “i can’t believe you both would team up against me like this.”

he glanced over at you, his eyes softening a fraction. “especially you, dollface,” he added, his voice going slightly softer. “after all we just did, you still won’t give me any love?” geto chuckled again, clearly enjoying this little game. “maybe if you weren’t so damn horny all the time, she might be more interested,” he teased.

gojo shot a mock-glare at geto, feigning offense at his words. “hey, I have needs,” he protested weakly, trying to sound indignant but only coming across as even more needy.

geto just rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah, like i said, you think with your dick,” he quipped back, not missing a beat. you couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange, your heart swelling with affection for them both, each in their own unique ways.

gojo muttered a sarcastic “thanks a lot” to geto under his breath, but his annoyance was only half-hearted.

he turned back to you, his eyes searching your face. “come on, dollface,” he pleaded, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “just for a little while? i promise i’ll make you feel good.” geto chuckled, enjoying the banter but knowing this was always how it ended. he leaned back against the headboard, waiting to see how this scene would play out.

you shook your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you said, “no way,” your tone light but firm. then, feeling playful, you shifted slightly over gojo’s bare body, enjoying the way he squirmed beneath you.

with a determined focus, you reached over to your nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a joint. holding it up and wiggling it in front of his face, you grinned at his wide eyes, clearly intrigued. “how about this instead?” you suggested, your voice playful, knowing just how much he loved to unwind this way.

gojo’s expression changed from disappointment to excitement in an instant, the allure of the joint capturing his attention. “now that’s more like it!” he exclaimed, his earlier dramatics forgotten as he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo’s eyes widened with excitement at the sight of the joint. he practically drooled like a dog seeing a bone.

geto chuckled from the side, shaking his head at his friend’s quick change of heart. “jeez, all it takes is a joint and you’re completely smitten?” he teased, a smirk on his face.

gojo shot him a glare, not even trying to deny the accusation. “hell yeah i am,” he replied, his voice thick with anticipation. “can’t blame a guy for appreciating the finer things in life.”

you leaned back against the headboard, pulling the blanket to cover your body snugly under your arms. the warmth of the fabric contrasted with the cool air of the room, making you feel cozy and safe.

as you settled in, you couldn’t help but chuckle at gojo’s antics. he turned around to lay on his stomach, his bare rear on full display, completely unbothered by his lack of clothing. it was an amusing sight, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a little, “nice, baby.”

he shot you a cheeky grin as he reached for the lighter on your nightstand, his excitement palpable. “what can i say? i like to keep things casual,” he replied, igniting the joint and taking a deep breath, the smoke curling up around him in lazy spirals.

geto chuckled at the sight of gojo’s unabashed lack of shame, his rear end just hanging out for the world to see. he shook his head, but a small smile played at the corners of his lips. he knew his friend was completely comfortable in his own skin, regardless of the situation.

geto reached over and snuggled closer to your side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he is watching gojo's casual display with a smirk. “you're such a shameless exhibitionist,” he teased, his voice tinged with amusement, shaking his head at his friend's lack of self-consciousness.

gojo, still laying on his stomach, shot geto a cheeky grin as he took a deep inhale from the joint. he exhaled, the smoke curling up around his head like a wispy halo.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of gojo’s bare ass, your boyfriend completely unbothered by his state of undressing. “i don't mind tho, it's a good view from here,” you murmur, a small smirk tugging at the edge of your lips.

gojo turns to give you a cheeky grin, clearly pleased with the attention. he wiggles his rear a little, earning a snicker from geto. “see? like what you see?” he coos, his voice dripping with playful arrogance.

geto rolls his eyes at gojo’s antics, but there’s a hint of amusement in his expression. “you’re such a narcissist,” he teases, “always so full of yourself.”

gojo pouts a little, feigning offense at geto’s comment. “hey, it’s not narcissistic if it’s the truth,” he protests, taking another hit from the joint and letting out a long, lazy exhale. he looks back at you with a sly grin, his eyes filled with a mix of cockiness and playfulness. “right, dollface? you think i’m the hottest guy around?” he asks, clearly fishing for validation.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at gojo’s antics, but his confidence was infectious. “oh, definitely,” you said, leaning down closer to him. as your lips brushed against his, you felt the mix of smoke and sweetness from the joint linger between you. it was a strange combination, but somehow, it felt right.

gojo’s eyes flutter shut as your lips move to meet his, a contented hum escaping his throat. the combined taste of the smoke and your sweetness is indeed a peculiar but strangely pleasant one. he responds to the kiss with a lazy, languid rhythm, clearly stoned and enjoying the sensation.

geto watches the display with an air of amused affection, his hand idly tracing small circles on your hip under the covers. it’s all so damn domestic and strangely... cozy.

gojo pulls back from the kiss, his eyes half-lidded and a lazy, lopsided smile on his face. “see?” he says, his voice slightly slurred, “a man who has nothing to hide has nothing to be ashamed of,” he said with a smirk, his voice slightly roughened by the smoke. “and i definitely have no shame when it comes to enjoying a good smoke.”

he gestured with the joint towards you, offering it. “want a hit, dollface?” he asked, his tone laced with casual nonchalance.

you took the joint from gojo, smirking as you brought it to your lips and inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs for a moment before releasing it in a slow exhale. the warmth spread through you, a nice contrast to the playful atmosphere in the room. “not bad,” you said, handing it over to geto, who took it with a knowing smile.

gojo watched you take the hit, a satisfied smirk on his face. he was always a little amused by how you looked when you smoked; there was something about the way your eyes half-lidded and a lazy smile crossed your face that he found strangely endearing.

geto chuckled as you handed him the joint, his fingers wrapping around the familiar shape of it. the sight of the three of you sharing smoke in the intimate space was weirdly soothing, like a comfortable routine that never gets old.

geto took a deep pull, his eyes shifting to you and gojo with a contented look on his face. he held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling, the smoke curling up around him like a lazy serpent, accompanied by a low, satisfied hum. “ah, nothing like a good smoke in good company,” he remarked, passing it back to gojo.

gojo took a deep hit from the joint, holding the smoke in for a moment before exhaling, the haze swirling around him as he turned to look at you.

his expression shifted to one of playful seriousness as he said, “baby, don’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but those scars on your back? they make you look so fucking hot.” he chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes. “i swear, i’ll get a nosebleed every time i see it, especially when i fuck you from behind.”

a small shiver ran down your spine at his unexpected words, your cheeks flushing slightly at the bluntness of his comment.

geto chuckled from his position next to you, clearly unsurprised by gojo’s lack of tact. “way to be subtle,” he quipped with a shake of his head, his tone filled with fond sarcasm. gojo just smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction he got out of you. his eyes roamed over your body, as if to emphasize his earlier point.

he took another hit from the joint before passing it back to geto, his gaze still trained on you. “i’m just saying,” he said lazily, his voice low and slightly raspy, “seriously baby, you have no idea how goddamn hot you look with those scars,” he continued, his voice dropping a little lower as his gaze continued to roam over you. “it’s like... a visual reminder of your strength and resilience, y’know? plus, it’s pretty damn attractive when a girl has battle scars.” he paused, taking a moment to admire your figure under the thin sheet.

“and i can’t get enough of it,” he added, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of admiration and lust.

your heart raced a little at gojo’s words, warmth flooding through you as you felt a newfound sense of confidence blossoming within. you shifted slightly under the sheets, your cheeks tinted with a rosy hue as you caught his gaze, those bright eyes filled with sincerity.

“do you really think so?” you asked, your voice soft yet curious, a hint of vulnerability lacing your words. the way he spoke about your scars made you feel like they were more than just marks of your past; they were a testament to your strength, something you could wear with pride.

gojo’s expression softened as he caught the hint of vulnerability in your voice. he moved closer to you, his body mere inches away, and reached out to gently brush your hair away from your face with his free hand.

“oh definitely, dollface,” he said, his voice slightly rougher as he spoke, “it’s like... there’s no part of you that isn’t beautiful to me.” he took a moment to look you in the eyes, a sincere gaze in his own, and then his gaze roamed over your exposed body once more. “every part of you is perfect.”

“and those scars?” he added, his voice taking on a slightly more husky quality. “they’re just a reminder of what you’ve been through and what you’ve survived.”

he reached out to gently trace a finger over one of the scars on your back, his touch so light it sent a shiver through you. “they’re damn sexy,” he murmured, his words soft but filled with a hunger that bordered on primal.

geto watched the intimate exchange between you two with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying the rare moment of sincerity from his friend. but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as gojo shamelessly ogled your body once more. “god, you’re so damn obvious,” he teased, shaking his head at gojo’s blatant perusal.

gojo chuckled, not even bothering to deny it. “what can i say?” he replied, “i’m a visual learner when it comes to appreciating beauty.”

you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at both of their reactions, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiarity of their banter. gojo just gave a cheeky grin in reply, obviously unashamed of his blatant ogling. he took another hit from the joint before leaning slightly closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “can you blame me, dollface? you’re like a goddamn work of art. i can’t help but want to look my fill.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle once again at gojo's unapologetic response. he had a way of making even the cheesiest lines sound charming, and his unabashed admiration for your body was both endearing and a little overwhelming.

“look at you, aren’t you just shameless,” you tease, fingers tracing his jaw but your eyes color with tenderness as you look down at you boyfriend.

geto just shook his head again, a smirk on his lips. “you're unbelievable,” he muttered, his tone filled with a mix of fondness and mild exasperation. “i swear, you never even try to hide how thirsty you are.”

gojo chuckled, the sound low and slightly raspy as he leaned into your touch. he had no regrets about his shamelessness, and he thoroughly enjoyed the way you reacted to his words. he let out a soft scoff at geto’s remark, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “oh, don’t act like you’re any better,” he replied, his voice low and slightly challenging, as he looked over at the other man. “like you’re not just as thirsty for her.”

geto watched you take the joint from gojo, his gaze softening as the smoke curled from your lips. he took a slow breath before speaking, his voice calm but filled with a certain tenderness. “yeah, you’re right,” he said to gojo, locking eyes with you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “your scars… they do make you more beautiful. more real, more... you.”

he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on his knee as he continued, his tone growing more earnest. “i’m proud of you, you know? not just for surviving all the shit you've been through, but for the strength you show every day.” his eyes flickered with admiration as he glanced at your body beneath the thin sheet, not with lust but with genuine respect. “there aren’t a lot of people who could carry the kind of burdens you’ve had to bear, especially alone. but you did. and you came out of it even stronger.”

his words hung in the air, and the room felt warm, not just from the shared smoke but from the weight of his sincerity. “i admire that about you,” he added softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “you’ve never let any of it break you. that’s something not many can say.”

gojo’s smirk faded at geto’s words, his expression growing more solemn as the conversation took a more serious turn. he'd never heard his friend speak so openly and tenderly before, and it was surprisingly... refreshing.

he watched as geto spoke, a small pang of affection in his chest at the sincerity in the other man's words. he knew that while he might make suggestive and somewhat crude comments about your scars, it was mostly done out of a place of admiration and a desire to make you feel safe and desired.

gojo’s smirk faded at geto’s words, his expression growing more solemn as the conversation took a more serious turn. he’d never heard his friend speak so openly and tenderly before, and it was surprisingly... refreshing.

he watched as geto spoke, a small pang of affection in his chest at the sincerity in the other man’s words. he knew that while he might make suggestive and somewhat crude comments about your scars, it was mostly done out of a place of admiration and a desire to make you feel safe and desired.

your heart stirred at his words, a strange mix of emotions welling up inside you. you weren't used to this kind of sincerity, especially not when it came to your scars. you were used to people shying away from them, treating them like something shameful or ugly. but here, in this moment, geto was looking at them as if they were something beautiful. something worthy of admiration.

you found yourself searching for words, your mind momentarily muddled by the combination of the weed, the emotional weight of his words, and the gentle affection in his gaze.

you chuckled softly, shaking your head as you tried to deflect the weight of the moment with a lighthearted tease. “look at you two, getting all sentimental on me,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “are you sure you’re not just a couple of saps?”

gojo and geto exchanged amused glances, both of them chuckling softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. they could see through your playful facade, recognizing the vulnerability hidden beneath your teasing exterior. but they didn’t call you out on it, knowing that you needed your time to fully embrace those feelings.

geto let out a soft chuckle at your attempted jest, seeing right through the thin veil of humor. he knew you well enough by now to realize that this kind of sincere admiration and openness was a rarity in your life.

he reached out to take the joint from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment, and took a deep, slow pull, inhaling the smoke and holding it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling. it was just to give himself a reason to look away from your face, which was a mixture of vulnerability and resilience that made his heart ache.

“you can call us saps all you want, dollface,” gojo said with a smirk, his eyes roaming over your body once more. “but you can’t change the fact that we’re both completely smitten with you.”

he leaned in a little closer, his expression a mix of sincerity and hunger. “we’ve told you before, and we’ll keep telling you until you believe it: you’re perfect just the way you are. scars and all.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, your gaze lingering on his bare form as you felt a playful spark ignite within you. “well, you’re perfect too, especially with that little display you’ve got going on right now,” you teased, your eyes flicking down to his bare rear, fully on display as he continues to laid on his stomach.

gojo let out a laugh at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. he twisted slightly to look down at himself, giving you an even better view, and wiggled his rear a little. “what can i say?” he said with a cheeky shrug. “gotta show off my assets, don’t i?”

geto chuckled as well, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at gojo's antics. but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the sight just as much as you. gojo was an attractive man, after all, and he knew it. “can’t even keep your dignity around your own girlfriend,” he said with a smirk.

he took another slow pull from the joint, his eyes fixed on the way your gaze roamed over his friend's body. he could see the hint of hunger in your eyes, the way your tongue wet your lips slightly without you even realizing it.

gojo chuckled again at geto's remark, his eyes flickering to you for a moment. he could see the way your lips had parted slightly, the way your gaze darkened with desire. he knew that look well, and it made his heart race a little.

he rolled onto his back, sprawling out on the bed and stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn. it was a deliberate move to give you an even better view of his body, to tease and toy with your desire.

a wave of embarrassment washed over you, prompting a frustrated groan to escape your lips as you tightly shut your eyes. “oh god,” you whispered, burying your face into geto’s shoulder in an attempt to shield yourself from the sight of gojo sprawled out bare before you— fully showing his naked body and his dick.

geto let out a deep, warm chuckle, clearly entertained by how easily you were flustered. “you’re so easy to embarrass,” he teased, taking another drag from the joint before leaning towards the window to release the smoke into the open air. he rested his arm against the window frame, casually letting the smoke drift away from your room.

gojo chuckled at your reaction, enjoying the way you tried to hide your face from him. he loved how easily he could make you blush, how a simple gesture or a few well-chosen words could make your cheeks flush and your heartbeat quicken.

he smirked at geto's cheeky comment, rolling onto his side to face you both. he propped himself up on his elbow and reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “come on doll face, don’t act like you don’t love it.”

he glanced over at geto, who was exhaling the smoke out the window, then back at you. he couldn’t resist giving you another cheeky grin. “you’re acting like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

geto chuckled quietly at gojo’s words, the sound soft and amused. he knew just as well as gojo did how easily you could be flustered. but he also knew how much you craved the attention, how you loved the way they could both make your heart race and your cheeks flush.

he took another drag from the joint, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke into the open air. his expression was casual, the epitome of cool, but there was an unmistakable spark in his eyes as he watched the interaction between you and gojo.

“you’re so damn shy,” he teased, shaking his head at your flustered expression. “it’s almost endearing how easily you get bashful.” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at geto’s teasing, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “i’m not shameless like you two,” you shot back, your tone light.

the teasing was a familiar back-and-forth, but it always managed to make your heart race a little faster. you appreciated their playful banter, even if it made you feel shy and bashful. the way they saw you, flaws and all, made it impossible to feel anything but grateful for their affection.

gojo chuckled at your retort, his smile widening. “hey now, there’s nothing wrong with being shameless. it’s a good quality to have,” he said, his tone laced with a hint of self-satisfaction.

he leaned over slightly to pinch your cheek playfully. “and you’re not exactly a blushing wallflower, doll face. don’t pretend you don’t like it when we pay attention to you.” geto smirked at the exchange, watching the way your skin pinked under their gazes.

“he’s got a point,” he chimed in, taking another pull from the joint. “you’re always getting all flustered.” he leaned back against the window frame, resting his forearm against the window sill. “it’s kind of cute.”

“you do love it when we give you attention,” he added, his voice low and filled with a knowing quality. “you can try to hide it all you want, but we both know how much you enjoy it when we look at you like this…”

as if to show exactly what he meant, his gaze travelled over your body once more, his eyes raking over your curves in an obvious, almost reverent way. “…like we can’t keep our hands off you, like we could devour you whole if we wanted…”

“like you’re the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen…” gojo continued, his eyes tracing the same path as geto’s. his gaze darkened, the pupils widening slightly as he took in your figure, exposed to their sight.

he reached out to run a finger along your collarbone to the faded scars on your shoulder, the touch light and teasing. “like we can’t bear the thought of anyone else touching you except us…”

geto chuckled softly, watching the way gojo’s touch made you shiver slightly. he lifted the joint to his lips and took a long, slow pull, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling it through his nostrils. he locked eyes with gojo, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “we’d do anything, i mean anything, to keep you all to ourselves.”

you leaned in closer, your fingers brushing against geto's wrist as you took a puff from his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin linger on your fingertips. after taking a long puff, you held the smoke in your lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly, the hazy cloud swirling between the three of you.

with a teasing smile, you turned your gaze back to geto, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “oh?” you asked, your voice is playful yet sincere. “are you both that desperate to keep me all to yourselves?” you could feel the tension in the air, a blend of teasing and genuine affection, and the way their eyes glimmered with mischief only added to the intoxicating atmosphere.

gojo chuckled in response, his voice a low rumble. “you damn right we are,” he said, his gaze flicking between you and geto, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. “we’d do whatever it takes, dollface. you’re just too damn good to share.” geto let out a soft scoff, his lips curving into a smirk. “he’s not wrong,” he said, his voice quiet and confident. “we’d do anything to make sure you’re ours, doll.”

he took another drag from the joint before offering it to gojo. “we won’t apologize for being greedy,” he added, his eyes locked on your face.

he could see the way your cheeks pinked at his words, the way your breath hitched slightly, and it only increased his desire to have you all to themselves. “we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you right here, between us, where you belong.” his hand slides behind you, fingers dancing on your back around your scars. “so beautiful,” he murmur, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder without breaking eye contact.

gojo took the joint from geto’s hand, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply, the smoke filling his lungs. he exhaled slowly, the haze swirling around the room, before handing it back to geto.

he watched as geto’s mouth touched your skin, the way his lips caressed your scars with reverence. it was both tender and possessive, a claim that you belonged to them, scars and all.gojo’s fingers tangled with yours, his hand gripping yours tight.

“damn right we’re greedy,” he echoed, his voice soft but firm. “and we aren’t gonna apologize for it. you’re ours, doll face. ours to touch, ours to kiss, ours to love. and we ain’t gonna let anyone else have you. ever. especially after we saw you how attractive you are with that scars— god, only thinking about it making me hard.”

geto nodded in agreement, his eyes still fixed on your face. he took another draw from the joint, his gaze flickering over to gojo and then back to you. “he’s not wrong,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “seeing you like this, scars and all, it’s making us crazy.”

his hand brushed over your bare skin, tracing the faded marks on your back. “you’re so damn beautiful like this, doll. so real and so…” he paused, searching for the right word. “vulnerable.”

you let out a soft hum of satisfaction, the warmth of their words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. feeling emboldened, you ran your fingers through gojo’s messy hair, enjoying the softness beneath your touch and the way he leaned into your hand, a contented smile spreading across his face.

“maybe breaking a bed wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” you teased, your voice laced with playful mischief. you glanced between the two of them, your heart swelling with affection. “after all, it seems like we’d all enjoy the chaos,” you added, your eyes sparkling with excitement and desire, knowing just how wild things could get between the three of you.

gojo chuckled, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. he loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the way it made his skin tingle. “you always know how to push our buttons, dollface,” he said, a cheeky grin on his lips.

geto’s hand left your back to take another pull from the joint. he blew a stream of smoke into the air before handing it over to you. “you’re playing with fire, doll,” he warning, a hint of danger in his voice. “you know damn well how much we love your chaos.”

you let out a soft hum of agreement as you took the last hit from the joint, the smoke swirling around you, heightening the atmosphere in the room. with a flick of your wrist, you crushed the joint in the ashtray on your nightstand, feeling a rush of confidence.

turning your gaze back to gojo and geto, you smirked mischievously. “how about we close the window?” you suggested, your tone playful yet challenging. “let’s see just how well you two can break my bed.”

the excitement in your voice hung in the air, charged with the promise of the chaos that was about to unfold, and you could feel the tension shift as they exchanged glances, both of them clearly intrigued by the challenge you just laid out.

“oh, you’re playing dirty now,” gojo said with a smirk. he loved it when you got feisty and provocative. he sat up, stretching his arms out above his head and cracking his knuckles.

geto chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire as you issued your challenge. he returned the smirk, the same gleam of excitement in his eyes. he reached over to close the window with one swift motion, the air in the room suddenly feeling even more charged with tension. “you’ve got yourself a deal, doll,” he murmured. “let’s see how well we can live up to our reputation.”

they were on you in a heartbeat, their lips finding your skin and lips, claiming every inch of you. the tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with desire and anticipation.

they laid you down on the bed, their bodies pressing against yours from both sides, their hands roaming over your body with urgency. their touches were possessive, but also gentle, as they traced the scars on your skin with reverent touches.

“god, you’re so damn beautiful, dollface,” gojo murmured, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, his teeth grazing your flesh.

geto’s hand slipped down your body, his fingers tracing the outline of your figure. “sooooo goddamn perfect,” he agreed, his breath hot against your ear as his mouth moved to kiss your shoulder.

[anzulvr]

What do you think Karma would be like with a calm/chill reader who's easygoing and effortlessly charming personality sometimes turns completely 180 when they feel strong emotions? Like they can go from sweetly comforting Nagisa to yelling oddly detailed threats at Terasaka while chasing him with a metal bottle for eating her food. (Maybe mix in some passive aggressive sarcastic sass when Korosensei's being annoying?)

Karma x Chill(..but actually really passive aggressive) reader 🤗🤗 Ty for the request!! (Sorry took long)

— You don’t argue often and you are also very good at listening to everyones perspective and ideas even if they’re different from you. People view you as very understanding so seeing you actually getting into a heated fight it’s surprising at first.

— Karma is so surprised when he sees you angry for the first time like he didn’t know you had it in you to say the things you did.

— He TRIES to get you pissed off just to see you react, since you know he’s kidding and dating him gives you a soft spot for him it’s basically just him failing to annoy you.

— This one time Karma scribbled over your paper to bother you and all you did was frown for a second and erase / re do anything he messed up. (He felt bad and helped you when he realized you weren’t going to fight 😭)

— then in a group project with Yoshida (also Isogai and Rinka) Yoshida scribbled a little bit on your notes (not nearly as much damage as Karma made) but it pissed you off so badly you grabbed a marker and started scribbling on his face

“I’ve been working on those notes for days you actual dumbass”

“Hey- I’m sorry!! I’ll rewrite them— get off me your using permanent marker it’ll be hard to take off!!”

“GOOD.”

— “Damn [name] that mad?” When you hear Karma mention how you reacted you stop so fast

“I wasn’t actually mad. We we’re just playing right Yoshida?”

Only out of fear he agrees “Right..”

— You’re tolerance for everything is way higher for Karma because you like him too much to get mad, that doesn’t mean you never get mad at him it just takes a little more to.

— Some of the things you respond with are shady in the way people expect Karma and it’s just so confusing cause it feels so out of character for you.

— but it’s definitely one of the things Karma likes the most about you because 1. It’s funny 2. Hes glad to see you stand up for yourself once in a while because he’s usually the one telling people off for you.

— passive aggressiveness would come whenever Korosensei or really E class is too pushy about certain topics.

For example before Karma confessed to you theyd push you to do it first and come up with crazy plans to make things happen.

— they full on locked you in a room together and instead of waiting it out you found a way to break the doorknob (together #romanceisreal)

Angry you and happy Karma is a mix end class fears because he’ll be constantly hyping it up😭

Like you’ll be be hitting Terasaka with a notebook because he said something stupid and Karma will go:

“[Name] wait— Use this one it’s way thicker!!”

(took inspo for ur original request lollol)

Karma will support anything you try and honestly rile you up more to see what you do

Angry you and Angry Karma is definitely the worst mix of all

hell on earth

! but it hardly happens since you usually reel each other in

Just tell him to chill tf out😭

Having strong emotions isn’t all bad, you’re empathetic, kind and care for everyone in class— even Terasaka no matter how much of a pain he can be.

mom friend-ish?? (Awe yeah Mom friend definitely)

They don’t actually mind it and are grateful for the times you stand up for them bc they know you love them

Especially Karma even though you’re prone to getting into arguments like all couples do it’ll work out fine because you both care to much about eachother.

If you’re the type to remind people you love them after arguing it’s another thing he loves about you, since he himself has trouble saying he’s wrong first it’s helped him swallow his pride and apologize faster.

(Literally so cute my fave relationship dynamic)

[a-mint-bear]

Taking Care of Him

Male Yandere x Reader

Jacob is recovering from surgery, but the stubborn idiot can't seem to understand that he needs to be resting, not trying to run around and be his usual overly-helpful self. You're going to make get some rest, whether he likes it or not.

[previous Jacob posts and stories here]

"No, no, love..." He tried to keep you from pushing him back to the bedroom, unsuccessfully. "I wasn't trying to-"

______________________

You'd never gotten so annoyed with him before, to the point you were starting to get pissed off.

You shushed him, getting him back into bed and glaring at him. He shrank from you, looking guilty, but looking even more desperate.

Reminding him he was still recovering, you said that you would take care of dinner.

"But..." he started to whine. The look you gave him shut him up real quick. You never thought his eager-to-please nature would backfire like this, but you tried not to hold it against him.

The day you found him, you were supposed to go over to Jacob's place for dinner. He wanted to cook for you, as usual, and was a tiny bit critical that you didn't own a wok, or even a garlic press. And rather than making him lug that stuff over to your place, a nice dinner made by your boyfriend at his place was sounding pretty good.

______________________

Something seemed off when Jacob hadn't sent his usual dozen text messages that morning to tell you how excited he was to see you later. You felt a little nervous all day before you said "fuck it" and took off from work early to go see what was up.

He wasn't answering the door, but you were pretty sure he was home. His house key was the second thing he ever gave you, after his collar of course, so you were grateful for his tendency to jump milestones for once.

He was curled up on his couch with a high fever, clutching his side. The doctor told you later that his appendix was close to bursting when you found him. He was really out of it by the time the ambulance got to his house.

Jacob seemed so helpless, so it startled everyone when he almost punched the EMT that tried to check his pulse. You suspected he only missed because he was feeling disoriented. He clutched at his collar, it seemed to you that he thought someone was trying to take it off. No one held it against him, given his state.

He looked even more helpless laying there in his hospital bed post-surgery. You wondered if there was anyone you should call, but according to the nurse, his emergency contact was you. Not that that was surprising, in a way. It was perfectly on-brand for Jacob.

He was thrilled when you told him he'd be staying at your place while he recovered. He didn't need a full-time caretaker, but it made you feel better that you'd be around if something happened. As for Jacob, the thought of being with you every day for a couple of weeks? Sleeping together in your bed night after night? He couldn't wait!

______________________

Usually, Jacob pretty much always wanted your attention. You'd expected him to play up how helpless he was and use it as an "excuse" so you would spend more time with him. Not that you'd have to be convinced, but it was still cute to see him want you around so much.

But for him, who loved having you depend on him, it seemed like he had a hard time being taken care of. You could tell it hurt for him to do much just a few days after surgery, but you kept catching him up and about, trying to cook or clean or even just get the mail, even though you told him you would do it.

The only thing that seemed to make him actually rest and recover was making him think you were upset with him. And while you were getting annoyed, sure, you weren't actually trying to make him feel bad. But every time you came to check on him and found him doing something that was obviously strenuous, you had to put him in his place.

And not in a fun way.

You knew Jacob. You could be sweet and loving and tell him over and over how he could never be a burden. But it was only a band-aid. He only felt assured of your feelings when you showed him.

But in his current condition, you would have to... switch up your tactics.

When you got home from work near the end of the first week, he was actually in your bed for once. But he looked miserable, really looking like a sad little puppy dog. It would've been cute if it weren't so sad to see him like that.

"Oh." he brightened up. "Hi sweetheart. Welcome home."

He was trying to seem like his usual self, but you could tell he was still feeling rough. Between an appendectomy and all his other feelings, he was a lot more subdued.

You needed to see if your hunch was right.

______________________

Jacob had watched you running around for him for the last week, taking care of him and making sure he was comfortable.

It was the worst.

He loved staying at your place, and waking up next you every morning, being able to look at you and see you whenever he wanted...

But he was getting restless. You were back from work and he'd been doing just as you told him: Getting some rest so he could get better. But it was hard. Too much. It felt like it was too much and he couldn't tell you why.

You told him that you asked for tomorrow off so you could spend some time with him and get some chores done. Everything felt... wrong. His face felt hot, almost like... shame? He didn't feel that a lot. He didn't like it.

He stared down at the bed, clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap. A nervous habit of his from when he was a kid. You asked him if he was okay with that.

"Of... of course!" He smiled, hoping you didn't notice his panic. "I love spending time with you, love."

But it didn't feel like the right thing to say.

Growing up, he was never taught how to take care of himself, or even how to appreciate others doing things for you. Once he'd started living on his own, he learned how to do everything for himself. He didn't have friends or anyone to do nice things for, and he never really thought about doing things for anyone else.

Until he met you.

The first time he did something nice for you, it changed... something in him. You were taking a shower after a long day at work. He thought it might make him look good to make dinner for you, make him look more domestic in your eyes, your perfect guy. He made due with your... sparce ingredients and managed to pull off a nice meal.

When you saw what he did, he knew you'd love it. Love him. Want him to be around more. Make him yours. But when you actually tried the food and thanked him with a warm smile, he felt something he'd never felt before.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been genuinely praised by someone. It felt so... good. He rode the high for days, and ever since, he'd made doing things for you a huge part of your relationship. He wasn't a people pleaser, he only wanted to please you. No one else mattered.

When he could tell you knew something was up, he struggled against himself. What if he hurt you with what he was feeling? What if you resented him? What if you decided he wasn't worth the trouble? The thought tore him up inside.

But the way you looked at him...

"This... Laying here while you're doing everything for me... I know it's not for forever, but... I like..."

He took a deep breath, clenching his hands together even tighter. So tightly he was shaking. Everything felt so numb.

"I like being there for you, doing things to make you happy. I-if I'm not taking care of you... what if..."

You steadied his shaking hands, the warmth of your touch making him feel so small.

"What if you get sick of me?" For the first time since you met him, he wouldn't look you in the eye. "What if one day I can't take care of you and you... don't need me anymore?"

His eyes went wide when you suddenly grabbed him by his collar and sharply yanked him close.

He couldn't stop the startled moan when you kissed him. He noticed the care you took in not putting pressure on his stitches as you leaned into him, but you weren't gentle.

You kissed his neck, just above his collar. When he whimpered, squirming from the intense sensation, you wove your fingers into his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck to you again. The sharp sting in his scalp shot straight to his gut, every inch of him felt amazingly, wonderfully warm. You peppered the skin of his neck and chest with love bites and mark after mark, his gasps soon transformed into needy gasps and panting. He was overwhelmed, all his painful thoughts were consumed by you you you.

Softly muttering his name against his skin, he was losing himself to the sensation. He couldn't keep clenching his hands when you pinned them to the bed, keeping him from returning the favor when he reached for you. He should've felt ashamed at how selfish he wanted to be, how much he wanted you to make him feel good even now when you stopped him. But all of his shame and guilt washed away with every kiss. Every sweet word. Every loving and harsh touch alike.

Nothing else mattered but this feeling. You. You made everything in his life make sense, and he just wanted to be worthy of you.

When you pulled away, he wanted so badly to let you know how much you meant to him. How much he needed you. How he was nothing if he couldn't be yours. But all those gnawing thoughts in the dark corners of his mind seemed so quiet now.

You held his face in your hands, making him look at you. Your gaze on him was intense.

You told him.

I don't love you for the things you do for me, Jacob.

I love you because you're you.

Since he'd met you, he'd cried in front of you a few times. When he was worried and desperate and needed you to be his. When he was insecure and needy and hopeless... you always pulled him out of it, and it made him feel like he was yours.

But this felt different. Something broke inside. He was already so exposed and vulnerable, he couldn't stop this from tearing its way out of him. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he curled into himself, sobbing.

You stayed. You were going to do everything you could to make sure he knew you weren't going anywhere, to let him know he could count on you too.

______________________

His eyes were puffy as he hugged you from behind, wrapped around you like a koala, still sniffling. Somehow, you'd made the clingiest man alive even clingier. But no complaints from you.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was a little hoarse, but he wouldn't let you leave to get him water. "I didn't think I'd... get like that."

You told him there was no reason to be sorry. You offered him a compromise, if it would help start to make things better. If he was honest about when he was feeling cruddy and needed a break, he could help you around the house. With very light chores only. And if he could stick to it honestly until he was cleared by his doctor, you would reward him.

"Oh?" He smiled against the skin of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against his body. "What kind of reward?"

He was back to his whiny, needy self when you pulled away. You couldn't help but laugh at his exaggerated distress at being left "alone and unwanted", pouting like a sad little puppy dog. It was fixed easily enough with another kiss. So easy to please.

The kind of reward his doctor didn't recommend for another week or two at the least. And you'd make him wait until his stitches were removed if he acted like a brat.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love."

______________________

more Jacob for y'all, less yandere, more emotional confessions ✌️

i remember the winter i broke my arm. in my family, if someone was doing something, you got up and helped them, you didn't just sit there and get waited on

so when i kept trying to help my mom with chores with my arm in a sling, just a day after i'd slipped on the ice, i remember her getting so mad at me. like she couldn't figure out why i got so nervous sitting there doing nothing lol

Jacob needs to be needed, because if he's not, you might not want him anymore.

i've never had my appendix removed (or had major surgery for that matter) so timelines for recovery may be off, the internet is of differing opinions on how soon you can do stuff after

i don't think Jacob has a particular nickname for the reader, sweetheart and love are common for him, but if i tried to think of a different nickname for every yandere to use i'd go insane lol

[lola-la-cava]

Met ‘23

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Y-yeah, don’t even worry about it. Who needs air?. Just… keep going” I say as they continue to tighten the corset. I grip my waist, sucking up as much air as I can.

All of a sudden, I hear a familiar voice tsk. The women helping me with my dress backs up, causing the piece of clothing to loosen.

“Did she put you up to this?”, he asked the woman. She nodded.

“Traitor!”

He laughs at my quip and comes up to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful”

Timothée looks me up and down, examining the dress and taking my hand to twirl me. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I giggle.

The curly haired boy gasped, “Half bad? Come on! Give me a little more credit!”

“Ah fine! You look gorgeous!” I praise, getting my body close to his to pull him in for a needed kiss.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done yet! Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, lover boy?” my make-up artist comes to pull us apart and retouching my lipstick.

“How could I?” he stared at me with a love sick stare that I didn’t quite notice at the time.

Timothée hears a quick snap!from the camera. He whips his head around to see one of the photographers catch the perfect moment.

“Whoops” the guy shrugged.

“You people are sickening!” my assistant screamed from the other side of the room.

Timothée answers back, “Jealous much, Meg?”

“Ha. ha.” she teased. “I happen to enjoy being all alone, thank you very much”

I playfully roll my eyes at her antics. “Yeah, sureee”

“Aaalright, Y/N you’re set!” She pats my cheek as I look at her with grateful eyes.

Timothée’s arms wrap around my front once again as soon as she let go. His head resting on my shoulder, kissing my neck

“I just hope lover boy here doesn’t ruin your make-up”

“No promises” he giggles as he playfully placed wet kisses on the side of my head.

“I swear, you will never hear the end from me if you do” she warns him.

“Now, get on out there. Tons of people are expecting you”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Ah, the calm before the storm.

Well, as calm as it can get. Which was not very.

They stood in the line before getting their pictures taken. Celebrities in extravagant clothing surrounded them. Some familiar faces present that Y/N took note to say hello to later on.

Y/N smoothed over her dress and brought her hand up to fix her hair again. Timothée noticing this, he interrupted her movement and took her hand. He squeezed it three times before kissing it.

I love you.

She took her hand back and grabbed her phone from a discreet pocket on the dress.

She scrolled aimlessly through social media, trying to get feeling of impending doom of my mind.

Her eye catches a random headline from an entertainment news update account. It read:

‘Timothée Chalamet and Kylie Jenner hard launching their relationship at tonight’s Met Gala? Y/N Y/L/N left in the dust?’

She lets out an obnoxious scoff. Timmy hearing it, he looks at her screen, reading the obviously made-up headline.

“God, they’re still on that?”

He notices his partner’s silence. “Come on. You’re not really bothered by this, are you?”

She opened her mouth to say something. No words came out. She merely shrugged.

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her in for a bear hug. Timothée rested his head on hers as she got close to his chest, hearing the comforting beat of his heart that never failed to comfort her.

The couple stayed like that. “Trust me, mon coeur. I wouldn’t have this any other way. I’m perfect where I am and who I’m with”

“Shit, I actually might cry. I never know what to say when you say this sappy shit”, Y/N chuckles as she puts her hand up to mess with his styled hair.

Feeling her hand creeping his back, Timmy pulls away and bows. “I aim to please you. It’s my sole purpose in life”

A smile instantly appeared on her face and butterflies in her stomach. Nothing had definitely changed from when they first started going out. Same sparks, same chemistry, same tension. Whatever you wanna call it. It was there. They had it.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him in for one more kiss. Y/N looked at him, looking over the features she admired so much that she practically memorized them. Her gaze lands on his lips.

Some of her lipstick and gloss had transferred to his lips. She quickly tried to get the makeup off. “Shit, wait hold on. You have some-“

He smacks her hand away. “No, no. Keep it.” He rubbed his lips together getting the substance to cover all ground.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Timothée Chalamet? They’re ready for you.”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Right now, I’m here with everyone’s favourite couple, Timothée Chalamet and Y/N Y/L/N” Emma, the interviewer, spoke with enthusiasm.

We’d just finished the carpet and were almost home free. Camera flashes blinded my vision as I tried not to close my eyes throughout the whole thing. Screams of my name were heard throughout the venue. Meddlesome questions and controlling demands to pose a certain way were yelled. To which, I didn’t respond to. Why should I? I maintained my balance by holding onto Timothée. You’d think after a few years, you’d get used to the bordering aggressive personalities you have to deal with every single day.

It turns out not really.

“How does it feel to be back? I mean, you guys have gone before, but how does it feel to be here as the quote-unquote, it couple?”

Me and Timmy both give awkward chuckles as we heard the last two words.

“Uh- I really don’t know about that last part, but it just feels great to share such a meaningful moment with him. I’ve personally dreamed of attending since I first saw it as a kid and to be invited for the second time… It’s just… yea”, I answer, not being able to expound on the statement.

Emma hums and gains back the mic.

“So, rumors have been swirling about the internet that actually said othewise. Do you have anything to say about that?” She points the microphone at Timothée this time, definitely hinting at the Kylie rumors.

He seems taken aback by the question, not knowing what to say and the only thing I’m able to do was squeeze his hand. Three times.

I love you.

Emma realizes this with a regretful look on her face. She leans toward both of us as she moves the mic away.

“It’s totally fine if you guys aren’t comfortable. We could just mov-“

He takes the mic, she gives him a grateful small smile.

“No, I uh, me and Y/N have actually seen a handful of tweets about this and I just wanna set the record straight and say we are very much still together”, he nods as he hands the microphone back to her.

“I think I’m right by saying that this has definitely relieved viewrs at home and me.” We laugh genuinely at her quip.

I imagine people on Twitter have stopped adding fuel to the fire after what he said and can have a better goodnight’s sleep later in the evening.

“And that’s our time. I’ll see you lovebirds inside! Have a great time together!”

We both shook her hand and left with an indebted expression for keeping it mellow (for the most part) after such a nerve-wracking red carpet.

“Very professional with that answer, Chalamet”, I hook my arms with his and leaned on his shoulder.

“Of course, ‘gotta remind everyone you’re still my girl”, he says with a smug smirk.

I laugh, “Your girl? I suppose that means you’re my boy?”

He playfully rolls his eyes. “Come on! As if you didn’t know that from the beginning”

“Ohhh, I know. I just wanted to hear it from your mouth!”

[miguelschamp]

all of the girls you loved before

pairing: robby keene x fem!reader

summary: robby decides to visit you after getting out of juvie

warnings: none really

a/n: this is kind of a part two to say don’t go, but honestly it can be read as a stand alone. requested by @helianthus22 (i hope you like it <3)

it had only been a few hours since robby was released. his first thought was to try and see sam. to maybe try and talk to her about everything that happened. unfortunately, that went as terrible as it could’ve gone, so now he was walking to see you. hoping that your visits meant you’d enjoy his company.

since the first time you’d visited, you had gone to see him every week after that. even if it was only a few times, robby appreciated it. he couldn’t imagine why you would’ve wanted to spend your time with him, but nonetheless, he valued your time.

as he approaches your door, nerves begin to take over. what if you actually didn’t want to see him? what if you visiting was just a good gesture and he was reading too much into it?

he sighs and shakes his head before knocking on the door. it’s only a few seconds before he hears the locks turning and the door opens.

your eyes go wide as you smile, “robby? oh my god, you’re out.”

“yeah.” he nods, “i hope it’s okay that i’m here. i just remembered your address from when we all hung out before-“

“no, no. of course it’s okay.” you say quickly before opening the door wider, “do you wanna come in?”

“sure.” he stammers stepping in, “thanks.”

“yeah.” you say closing the door before locking it and leading him through the house, “sorry, it’s so quiet. my mom works nights, so it’s just me.”

robby hums in acknowledgment as you lead him up the stairs to your room. as he enters, you chuckle nervously and shut the door behind him, “sorry, it’s so messy. i wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“it’s okay.” he says shaking his head, “it’s better than anything i’ve had.”

he takes a seat on your chair at your vanity as you move around to fix up a few things.

“so..” you say as you sit on the edge of your bed, “is there a reason why you came to see me? not that i mind your company, but i figured you’d probably go to sam.”

“i did.” he says, “she was with miguel.”

your face drops, “what?”

“yeah.” he mutters

“i’m so sorry.” you say softly, “that sucks.”

“yeah.” robby says. he clenches his jaw before shaking his head, “but i guess i should’ve known, right?”

you furrow yours brows, “no. you said that she wrote you a few times, so it was only natural to think that she might’ve wanted to see you. i had no idea she and miguel were seeing each other again. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault.”

your face saddens as you watch robby stare down at his hands. you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. feeling as though you had no one in the most trying time of your life.

you let out a sigh before standing, “come on. i have something i wanna show you.”

robby’s brows furrow as you walk toward your window and pull it open, “where are we going?”

“on the roof.” you chuckle before turning and climbing out

“what?”

•••

it had been about an hour since you pulled robby to sit on the roof. and he would be lying if he said it hadn’t calmed him. you had taken his mind off sam and his situation for the time being just by being yourself.

as you looked up at the sky, the stars seeming to catch your attention, robby looked at you. the one person who had been beside him throughout everything. although you two had been on opposite sides of the drama, you never let karate get in the way of being there for the people you cared about. no matter what, he would always be grateful to sam for introducing the two of you.

“y/n.”

“hm?” you hum looking over at him

“thank you.”

you furrow your brows with a smile, “for what?”

“being here for me.” he says and your face softens, “i know i probably didn’t show it all the time, but i do appreciate it. for awhile, i felt like i didn’t have anybody.”

“well, you have me.” you smile

robby’s face breaks into a small smile for the first time in a long time. as a comfortable silence settles between the two of you, you suddenly become aware of how close the two of you had gotten.

for a second, your eyes drift down to robby’s lips before drifting back up. before you know it, robby kisses you softly. giving you enough time to pull away and tell him you didn’t feel the same. when you kiss him back, he tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

his hand comes up and cups your face before you pull away. small breaths escape your lips as your eyes flicker up to his.

“that wasn’t just a one time thing, was it?”

robby shakes his head, “i don’t want it to be.”

you smile brightly, “good.”

[callofdudes]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Autistic Reader headcanons.

A/N: I myself am not autistic but I do know a fair bit about it. So I figured I'd write headcanons before writing a fic just to dip my toes in and see if I can get it right.

I know that autism can present a bit differently for some things across different people. Please feel free to let me know if something in this list is not correct. ❤️

Ghost would be lying if he said he didn't give you extra special treatment apart from his other teammates. And it's well justified. Simon knows not to compare you to a child but he also knows that you need things the others don't.

Simon has picked up on subtle signs throughout the months working with you. How sometimes when things didn't go according to plan on base it would leave you more stressed out than it should have. Sometimes if your food wasn't what you had expected it to be, he'd notice how you'd react.

He eventually consulted your file before making any decisions. That's how he'd found out you are autistic.

Simon knew someone who was autistic, so he made sure to keep his eye close on you.

He noticed each little shift. How you would stim with your clothing or your hair, too embarrassed to carry a fidget toy around base. But that didn't matter to Simon. He made sure to take care of everything. He bought some fidget toys small enough to fit in his jacket and when in meetings or just sitting around, he'd pull a toy like magic from his pocket and hand it over.

You'd been incredibly grateful the first few times, and then it just became routine that Simon would carry around the toys for you and have one on hand whenever you needed.

He also noticed which ones you liked, and didn't like. Some you would hand back because they didn't feel right on your fingers. Others clicked and slid in a way you didn't quite like, and he kept a tab of that. He compared fidget toys you did like to similar ones and was very precise every time he got you a new one.

He made sure that in every environment he was nearby. How you'd react to the lights, different sounds. How you'd react when it got to loud and crowded or too quiet. What noises bugged you and what calmed you.

When on missions, Simon made sure to talk you through each step. He thought his voice would help you to face the unexpected. Telling you where to go and exactly what to do, ready to face any situation.

"Take a deep breath y/n, you're doing great. Two Shadows on your left, you can take them out from where you are without being spotted"

Your level of empathy and emotional awareness was also something he had to take into account. You could sensitive to anger. You could feel a great deal of empathy and almost take on the burden of It being your fault even if you had nothing to do with it. Because of this, Simon made sure that you were aware his anger was never on you.

"Simon? Did I do something wrong? You looked really upset when you looked at me earlier and I just thought that maybe-"

Simon places his hand on your shoulder. "No no, just had a rough morning. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Got it?"

Simon has also become much more aware of how he teases you. You were emotionally aware to the point that you very clearly understood Simon would joke about being hurt, or would make fun of you and it was all jokes. He understood that you understood how his emotions worked as well.

But there was the occasional time where Simon would pretend to be hurt by your words and you'd have genuine regret. It doesn't happen as often as he would have thought, but when it does, he's right there to reassure you he is completely fine.

Simon actually gets more upset than you do when people call you a child wrapped up in an adults body with a nice little bow on top. Of course you have your traits but Simon has seen your hobbies and interests. You're no super genius but you are more than a child. You just have a different trajectory point on life's train tracks. And Simon makes sure to remind anyone he doesn't think is being respectful of you as a person.

Nightmares can affect you more harshly because of your emotional investment with things and the people around you.

The first time Simon saw you become overstimulated he was a little scared he'll be honest. He panicked a little bit. But now he knows exactly what to do. At first he tried to comfort you, allowing you to be swallowed up in his embrace, he crushed you tightly in his arms and smoothed his hands over your muscles. It would sometimes take a while for you to come down from your high, but he was there for every moment.

When he becomes a bit better at knowing how to handle a situation when you get over stimulated the process is smoother. Simon will notice how you can completely shut down. Sometimes it's near a meltdown with tears flowing everywhere. And other times you just disconnect. You don't move, don't speak, completely distant. Simon approaches you gently and picks you up in his arms.

"This ok?" He whispers near your ear as to not startle you. You cling to him tightly, burying your head in his neck. "Alright, come on, you've had a long day."

He rubs your back and brings you to your room. If you're away from base he just finds a separate room that is quiet. Anywhere he can go to separate the noise and bustling energy from you. If you're in your room he'll lay you down and just get you to relax.

Tears flow down your cheeks, hands still clasping the material of Simon's hoodie. Simon gently rubs your collar and down over your shoulders. He presses on different parts of your arms until you relax. "Take a deep breath. Take a deep breath." Simon breathes in deeply, prompting you to mimick. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and fetches your heavier blanket from the end of the bed. "See? You're ok."

He grabs your fidget from your desk and place it in your hand, or sometimes he'll lean over you and allow you to play with his sweater.

He talks softly and calmly, he does know kinder and softer words of reassurance help.

Sometimes all you want to do is hug Simon under the warmth of your weighted blanket, his arms wrapped around you like mountains compressing you from all angles.

And sometimes Simon will shut the door, lay you on your back and lay the weighted blanket just above the bend in the bottom of your spine. If you want a fidget toy he'll get you one to distract your hands while he runs soothing motions along your muscles, feeling them relax and contract. He plays white Noise in the background for you, or he'll give you his phone so you can watch soap cutting videos or other visually satisfying things.

"How are you doing?" He whispers near your ear, thumbs rubbing over your stomach and up around your back to cup your shoulder blades. "Look at it." You flip the phone to show a satisfying paint video. "Oh, that's a cool one isn't it?" You nod and go back to watching it.

Wherever Simon got so good at doing massages, you would not change it for the world. You've expressed before how nice they feel and how they calm you down. And Simon continues to do them.

Simon always makes sure that when you're over stimulated you have something to do with your hands. Again, if you want to play with his hoodie he'll stay with you so you can. If you want to run your hands through his hair, he's become comfortable enough to allow it.

"What are you doing up there?" He asks with a smile. You hum, combing your fingers through the short hair of his nape and up into the longer locks. "Soft." You express the feeling over your fingertips. "Yeah? I did shower." "I like your hair."

The occasional times you go nonverbal and are unsure how to express your needs, Simon will pull out a few toys and just crawl up next to you. He holds out his hoodie strings and comb his fingers through your hair.

He lays next to you, holding up one of the fidget toys. You gently take it and allow your fingers to move over it. Simon stays, fingers moving to drift through your scalp. You abandon the toy quicker than he expected and reach for his hoodie. "Oh you want this?" He smiles and moves closer so you can play with the strings of his hoodie.

Simon knows that you are incredibly passionate about what makes you happy. He often bugs you that you never shut up, but he knows you love it. One time when you both couldn't sleep early on the morning, Simon made you both tea and sat silently while you went on for nearly four hours about the lore of your favorite game/movie/TV show. He'd add little key points and poke out certain details, which would lead you down a detailed side rant before coming back to wrap everything up. The conversations would ring you dry of information. Simon would be lying if he said he didn't like it when you info dumped on him.

It was one of your ways you expressed your love. Sharing these things that made you so incredibly happy and Simon wanted to be a part of that.

Simon is still learning, and honestly he's very happy to learn. Sometimes he gets things right and sometimes he doesn't. But he is always here to make sure you get the care and provision you need. Whether it's taking a step back or a step in.