#non thanksgiving fic

[askstevella]

Non-Thanksgiving Aftermath | Morning Edition 🦃 — Steve’s POV

——

Pairing: Steve x Stella

Additional character: Natasha

Summary: It’s the day after Thanksgiving and the holiday season has begun! Questions, Black Friday shopping and many more things to be done

Note ~ I wanted to try something fun and sweet set, during the early years of Stevella cuz why not? Hehe 😜

———

Last night was sweet yet so crowded with energy, that everyone was either stuffing themselves with food or drinking their said preferred beverage. Some conversations was made, but mostly everyone was running around and trying to figure out what movies to watch.

In response, it got rather late and no one was eager to go back home, so they decided to stay at Avengers Tower instead.

Plus it’s been pretty cold last night! So wants to go out anyway?

Now it was morning.

Steve woke up first, glancing at his girlfriend of five—actually, 11 months-ish now, as he yawned. They basically been together for a year now—according to Stella, of course.

He knew it was rather cold out there last night and due to the guest rooms being taken up, he decided to sneak her into his bedroom instead. Let the others have their spot in the other bedrooms. Of course she agreed to that moment, eagerly awaiting to rest and kick off her shoes.

It was their first sleepover together at The Tower.

Well one of many. As Steve has sneaked his best girl into the tower a couple of times before and Stella has always found a way to sneak into the place without someone catching her—aside from Jarvis, of course.

This year the folks at The Tower knew about the couple!

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, making sure to wake her, as he slipped out of the bedroom for a coffee and some breakfast. He could do his morning run later.

However just as he sneaked out of his bedroom, thinking he was quiet as a mouse, he jumped and squeaked at the sight next to his door. On the floor, sat a half hungover Natasha Romanoff wearing her pjs—well her sweatpants and a black shirt she clearly stolen from Maria Hill—eating a slice of bread.

She gave him a sly tired smile, eyeing him as if she was looking for information.

“Jeez! Nat! Did you camp out here all night?” He asked in a whisper yelled.

“God, Rogers, people are trying to sleep.” She remarked.

“I—okay, may I ask why you’re camping outside my door?”

“I need answers. And secondly, I wasn’t exactly ‘camping out’ I was getting breakfast as it hit me that we never had a chance to talk.”

“Answers about what?”

“You’re new lady friend. Strange. Estella?”

“Wh-jeez, Nat. No way.”

He waved her off walking down the hallway and towards the kitchen, as Natasha stood up following just as quickly.

“Oh come on, Steve.” Natasha asked, leaning against the counter with the bread inbetween her lips, “I gotta know. What’s her deal? How long? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Steve rolled his eyes making himself a cup of coffee as he responded, “I didn’t tell you about her, because I knew that you would start with a million other questions. Besides there’s not much to tell, we met and uh…I asked her out.”

“There’s more to that. You’re a terrible liar. Spill.”

“Nat.”

“I just wanna know. I think she’s nice, but she seems like a girl who doesn’t date easily. So you must’ve done something right to get her.”

Steve paused weighting the ball Natasha was playing with here. He wasn’t going to go into full detail on anything but he decided to give her the basics to how they met, more or less.

“Fine.” He sighed, “We met a few blocks from here, it was an odd day for both of us, but we ended up helping each other out. Heck, she didn’t even know who I was when I met her, so it was rather refreshing to see. We kept bumping into each other every once in a while and so enough, I asked her out…”

She grinned softly seeing he was going to tell her.

“You see? Was that so hard?” She replied with a teasing tone, “Job? Her brother is a lawyer and the other one is a doctor. Last time I checked, I heard that she was a hairdresser?”

“It’s complicated, not my story to tell.” Steve remarked smirking, “But yeah, she’s a part time-nurse, works very well with others, but also an hairdresser on the side. Who do you think cuts my hair?”

Natasha’s eyes widened and chuckled impressively. She just nodded.

“I have so many questions about her and yours relationship.” Natasha replied smirking with a teasing tone, “But my main question is how did you pull her? I mean, have you ever seen yourself?”

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or giving me a backhanded compliment?” Steve responded in a slight joking tone, as he smiled.

~~~

~~~~~

Ahhh I know it was short but I decided it could be a cute little thing!

Let me know what you think 💭

My moots keep it going with your own POV and comments 😉 HAVE FUN!

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 1 1 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz z @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh h h @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @aidanxsophxoxo @meiramel l @trulysummersprivate

[cyeayt]

As the “holiday season” approaches, just a lil reminder that not everyone celebrates/enjoys holidays like thanksgiving and Christmas

This is for a variety of reasons. They could be part of a non Christian faith. They could live in a country or be part of a culture where they aren’t celebrated. They could have negative experiences or emotions associated with them. They could just not enjoy celebrating them.

You are not entitled to any of these explanations.

If someone isn’t being festive, leave them to it. Mind your own business and be respectful

[stevesgother]

i'll be your mirror - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.3k

Warnings - depictions of depression/anxiety, depressive episode, self neglect, cursing, mental health themes, non-sexual nudity

Contains - soft boyfriend steve helping you take care of yourself during a depressive episode

AN - man i am just pumpin fics out rn huh? i am NOT having a depressive episode rn, but if u are, ily. take care ~ emma <3

The previously soft flannel of your pillowcase was now stiff with mascara stained tears. A look outside your tiny window informs you that it’s started to snow, and suddenly you can’t remember the last time you left your room, let alone your apartment.

What’s supposedly meant to be the ‘most wonderful time of the year’ for everyone else, for you just feels like drowning in a thick, inky sea. The absence of twinkling, multicolored lights on your walls leaves the room bathed in an intimidating darkness, and you just can’t seem to bring yourself to leave the confines of your bed– it traps and keeps you there, not unlike sticky quicksand in a desert.

The landline that hangs on the wall just right of the kitchen has been ringing for at least a day and a half, whoever it is--consistent. There’s logically only one person it could be. There's only one person who still bothers with you when you’re like this.

You hear the jingling of a spare key being shoved through its matching lock, and the distinct rush of a draft being let in through an open door. There's no effort made to get up– to save face and pretend like you haven’t been rotting in your bed for days– you can’t bring yourself to feel anything other than apathy.

Heavy, booted footfall and the gentle sound of your name being called float through your thin apartment walls as your boyfriend makes his way towards the room you’ve been holed up in.

“Thought I might find you here,” he says as he clicks the door shut behind him, “brought you some soup,” he waves the tupperware container at you in an attempt to make it look enticing, but the sight just makes bile rise in your throat.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble into the sheets.

“You have to eat, baby,”

This is why you hadn’t been answering his calls. He too sweet for his own good, and you don't feel you deserve him, or his unconditional love for you-- so you just say, “I already ate,”

“You haven’t left this room in days,” he sets the plastic dish on your dresser next to the decaying vase of flowers his mom brought you on Thanksgiving, toes off his shoes and makes his way towards your bed. You feel the mattress dip under his weight, but your head is still buried in your pillow– a poor attempt at disguising how awful you look.

He rubs your back in slow, comforting circles. Steve’s only ever seen you like this a handful of times, and each time, it breaks his heart just a little bit more than the last. He wishes fiercely that there was something more he could do for you– that if he wasn’t able to take the pain from you altogether, then at least maybe he could be miserable with you– but instead, he brings you your favorite comfort foods, and waits with you for the storm to pass.

“I’ve been calling you for a few days,” he says, not unkindly, as he runs his fingers soothingly through your knotted hair, “was worried about you, you know?”

“I know,” you whisper, beginning to feel the sting of guilty tears, “I just didn’t want you to have to take care of me,”

“I want to take care of you,” he says matter-of-factly, “I love you, and I care about how your wellbeing,”

You reply with only a barely noticeable nod.

“How about we take a shower? Or a bath?” he offers, “I could wash your hair for you,”

“I just want to lay here,” you sniffle.

“I know, honey, but you’ll feel better,” he moves to kneel on the floor by your bed, and pushes the hair away from your face that's been plastered there by sticky tears, “I promise. And I’ll be with you the whole time, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper and he helps you sit up slowly; dizzy from how long you’ve been horizontal. He seals the deal with a gentle kiss pressed to the center of your forehead

–

In the bathroom, he sits you on the closed lid of the toilet and turns the shower faucet on and all the way to the left. While you wait for him to grab you both towels, you reluctantly stand and dare a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is matted in places, the bags under your eyes are nearly blue and you've been in the same pajamas for three days too long. You hate how disheveled you look, and you don’t understand how Steve can stand to see you in such a state and still want to be with you. It’s all too much, and you begin to quietly weep.

“Okay, I threw the towels in the–hey,” his tone colored in concern as he reemerges from the hallway and sees you sobbing at your own reflection, “Baby–what’s wrong? C’mon, talk to me,” he says as he tries to sidestep in front of you and block your view of the mirror.

“I just–hate–I don’t–” you struggle to speak through gasps, feeling as though you’re trying to inhale through a straw.

“You have to breathe, sweetheart,” he tells you, this time a little more firmly, “Can you breathe with me?”

He counts for you both as you take synced, exaggerated breaths in increments of three seconds. In three, hold three, out three.

Once your breaths come more evenly, he tries again, “Now tell me what’s got you so upset, huh?”

“I just don’t want you to see me like this,” you tell him between hiccups, your cheeks blotchy and red from your sudden rush of tears.

“See you like what?” He looks genuinely lost, like he can’t comprehend what you could possibly be referring to.

You glimpse down at yourself, “I just look so–”

“--Beautiful?” He interrupts before you get the chance to insult yourself, “Strong? Brave? The most lovely person I’ve ever known? What??” He rambles, exasperatedly trying to understand how you don’t see yourself the way that he does.

You glance sideways back at the mirror, though your view is obscured by Steve’s shoulder now.

“Stop.” You’re startled by the stern clip of his voice, “Stop looking over there, and look at me,” he commands, gentler this time. His calloused hand cups your cheek and he thumbs away the tears that still threaten to spill, “You’re so wonderful, love. And I know you don’t see what I see, so I’m gonna see enough for the both of us, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur into the cotton shoulder of his t-shirt, one you’re quickly soaking with tears.

“Good, now let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He lifts your arms over your head slowly, just enough to get you out of your soiled shirt.

–

After he washes your hair, and holds you firmly against his chest under the hot spray of water from the showerhead, he coaxes you into the living room to watch a movie with him on the couch.

The Breakfast Club plays quietly on your small, boxy television while you sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Steve. In a fresh pair of pajamas, the twisted and unkind corners of your subconscious feel less daunting. It doesn’t heal you, not really, but it’s a step in the right direction.

You sip on the soup Steve brought you from home–Minestrone, your favorite– as he runs a wide toothed comb through your damp hair.

“Want me to braid it, baby?” He asks.

“If you don’t mind?” You look back at him over your shoulder. He’s so pretty in the glow of the TV– looking down at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he chuckles, “You say the silliest things sometimes,”

And for the first time in days, a smile graces your features.

divider credit to @/enchantingthings-a

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 4

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: January 2nd, 2025)

OT13

subtle svt dating.@xinganhao

Mingyu

So High School @lavnderwonu (fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader)

HOW SWEET @hannieehaee (enemies to lovers, pining, one sided crush that becomes two sided!, afab reader, smut, teasing, semi public sex (its done in a public establishment but no one is there), breast play, food play (frosting on tits basically), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.)

flashing lights masterlist @gyuhao5 (model!minghao x f!assistant!reader x actor!mingyu)

EIGHT FIRST DATES @minkieater (maybe boys your age just weren’t your thing. after a sudden lunch date, you were already half convinced the search was over— had you found the man you were bringing to your family’s thanksgiving? how will chan take the news?)

Love Me Out Loud @twogyuu (Kim Mingyu was your first, but to him, he was for sure you were his endgame. One year out from university, no one expected you to be dating the former campus heartthrob. It's why you had to hide it from everyone – Mingyu's 14.5K Instagram followers, at least. However, the return of your childhood best friend Kim Taehyung to Seoul for a wedding, forces Mingyu to rethink the secrecy of your whole relationship. )

second servings @diamonddaze01(It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success)

sage & stardust @smileysuh (Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. )

A Helping Hand - Part Two @idyllic-ghost (office worker!Mingyu x office worker!fem!reader Genre: office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, coworkers-with-benefits)

Sit Down @gyuswhore (getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”)

Glass Towers @mr-cha-n (fluff, angst, smut, architect AU)

Sex Education @svtiddiess (In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?)

the very first night @fxstpace (romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au)

Warm welcome @cherry-hulu (Nothing like a warm welcome for Mingyu after a stressful day at work. Warnings: Ceo!KMG x Sugar baby!reader)

so high school | kmg | part 2 @cherriegyuu (when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think)

Wonwoo

BOYFRIEND WONWOO ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ @seokmn

Born Superhero @thedensworld (Started as clueless father to superhero, watch how Wonwoo grow as a father... And a husband.)

never leave this bed @straylightdream (husband!jeon wonwoo x curvy!f.reader)

Love under a Microscope @whitesugarbaybee (Pathologist!Wonwoo x pathologist fem!reader Genre: Doctor au, shefellfirst-he fell harder, crack, fluff)

Sold For A Soul @tusswrites (making bargains with the devil in exchange for a chance to glory. lies, deception and uncovered feelings in a world of glitz and glam.)

Steam IV @highvern (ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au)

1-800-got-stress @seokminfilm (non-idol au, college/professor au, slight romance (?), english professor wonwoo x teacher's assistant reader, tiny sprinkles of humor, one-sided crush (?), wonwoo is very dense when it comes to reader's romantic feelings (not really though), reader still loves him anyways, cute ending??)

In Front of Me (1) @wonustars (bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni))

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (pt 2) @shuastar (ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) I'm obsessed with this one.

Heart of the Sea @highvern (angst, romance, adventure, pirate!au, royalty!au)

king of my heart @strawberrynamjoon (soulmates au?, non idol au)

Sweetest thing @sailorrhansol (Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. )

after the seminar @smileysuh (sugar daddy Wonwoo, gentleman in the streets/softdom in the sheets, reader doesn't want to make choices, daddy/control kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, masturbation, unprotected sex, holding hands while fucking, implied breeding/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) daddy.)

Joshua

Streak @wonwootattoo (it doesn't give a description, but know I loved this one)

I (do)n't need you Pt. 1 @thestraybunny (Inspired by 2 minus 1 by Vernon and Joshua.It's been seven months since you and Joshua broke up, and you are still convincing yourselves that you don't need each other.)

royally screwed [m] @husbandhoshi ( between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.)

love thy neighbor @junkissed (fwb! neighbor!joshua x f reader)

Lies and Butterflies @bluehoodiewoozi (fake dating au; mostly fluff.)

𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 @yerimacoustic (after the princess falls mysteriously ill, joshua, born with powers no one else in the palace knows about, becomes her caretaker.)

in a span of three months @viastro (in which you teach joshua how to live.)

Catalyst @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (A trip to your brother and niece's brings feelings your husband has been shoving down for months to the surface.)

Juno @shuafiles (one of me is cute, but two though? give it to me baby)

Jeonghan

reverse uno @twogyuu (Fluff, dad!jeonghan, mom!reader, uncle!wonwoo)

the gambit —- y.jh @miniseokminnies 9enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn)

fated strut- pt. i @beomcoups (greek god!Jeonghan x model!reader)

daylight @kpopflowerfield (jeonghan is moving on from a heartbreak, starting again and making every experience feel new with you.)

Minghao

caught in bloom, caught on you @wheeboo (in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop.)

lost in translation ♾️ @ylangelegy (translator/interpreter!reader, idiots in love, yearning!!!, hurt/comfort, confessions. alcohol consumption, reader gets a [minor] surgery)

Seokmin

because even then, i knew @catboyieejeno (non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au)

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 2: When the Music Stops @diamonddaze01 (Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN)

assumptions @seokminfilm (major league baseball player!seokmin, popular x nobody,)

Chan

between you and me @haologram (holiday au. bffs to exes to lovers (what a doozy); angst, fluff, smut.)

Chapter One: How to Not Get Stabbed @mr-cha-n (action, smut, angst, fluff, superhero AU)

[bee-the-loser-recs]

~~~☼ My Johnny One-shot Fic Recs ☼~~~

𖤓 Forget me too By @yutaholic 16k, exes to lovers au, fluff, angst, reader left without saying goodbye, smut, promise of returning one day, alcohol use, reuniting at a wedding

𖤓 Make me move By @yutaholic 17k, Idol Johnny, past lover reader, hidden child, 13 years later, too scared to ask him to stay, fluff, angst, smut, baby daddy au, past pregnancy, secret child

𖤓 Daddy issues By @yutaholic 19k, fake dating kind of, high society reader, biker Johnny, fucked up family dynamics, angst, smut, slight fluff, mentions of cigarettes & weed, reader self destructs a lot

𖤓 Valentine By @jaelvr 500, college au, best friends to lovers, parties, tipsy reader, confessions, mutual feelings, fluff, rather cute

𖤓 The Perfect Note: Act I & Act II By @tedeehbear 10.3k & 16.5k, college au, supernatural au, alpha Johnny, omega reader, soulmate connections, fluff, angst, smut, best friends Jungwoo & Jaehyun, drunk hook ups, scenting

𖤓 A kiss & a dress shirt By @espresseo-cafe 4.4k, college au, valentines days, mutual friends to lovers, public asking out, fluff, reader gets their period while on a date, popular Johnny, cute dates

𖤓 Foreign swaggers By @starillusion13 8k, Johnny | Jaehyun | Mark x reader, brother's best friend au, Taeyong is reader's brother, shared vacation, smut, fluff, polyamory, enemies to friends to lovers, drinking

𖤓 Birthday surprise By @babbymochiiii 1.7k, non-specified au, established relationship, straight up smut, some fluff, romance, birthday surprises, romance

𖤓 Favorite place By @lovesuhng 1.2k, college au, reader is stress over exams, best friends to lovers, fluff, Johnny looks after reader, going to the beach together, so cute

𖤓 Dear Johnny By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, small one-shot, non-idol au, fluff, mentions to Taylor Swift

𖤓 Seeking a friend for the end of the world By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, non-idol au, end of the world au, angst, slight fluff, reconnecting for the last few days, implied deaths

𖤓 Quarantine Chronicles 1, part 2, part 3 By @domjaehyun 28.5k & 55.3k & 43k, Quarantine au, Jaemin | Jaehyun | Jungwoo | Johnny | Mark | (Jeno | Haechan in part 3 only) x reader, roommates (except Mark), friends with benefits situation, lots of tension & flirting, smut, slight fluff, crack, Jaehyun & Mark have actual feelings for reader

𖤓 Oh, boy, it's you By @domjaehyun 30k, non-idol au, soulmates au, college au, grad students, fluff, mild angst, smut, struggling to accept the fact, flight risk reader

𖤓 Oh my, oh my god 단 너뿐이야 By @lavendersuh 3.9k, college au, classmates/strangers to lovers, party setting, awkward reader approaches Johnny, suggestive comments, drunk reader, hitting it off

𖤓 Comfort cuisine By @smileysuh 10.8k, chefs reader & Johnny, Johnny has a daughter, friends to lovers, towing the line for a while, Johnny has a deceased wife, fluff, slight angst

𖤓 Ghostie By @smileysuh 15k, college au, frat NCT, Halloween parties & costumes, slightly creepy Johnny, anonymous calls, slight stalker subthemes, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Big Bear & Bee By @smileysuh 15.9k, hybrid au, bear Johnny, Johnny is an uncle, reader works at a honey shop, getting to know another, crushes, flirting, smut, fluff

𖤓 Get lucky dress By @irregular-idol-imagines 500+, established relationship, fluff, suggestive, showing off a new dress to your boyfriend

𖤓 Two tickets to paradise By @lattaeyongs 14.8k, best friends to lovers, past Kun x reader, reader is stood up at the altar by Kun, reader goes on their honeymoon with Johnny, fake dating, fluff, vacation

𖤓 Under his desk By @starryhyuck 7.4k, CEO Johhny, assistant reader, Jaehyun is reader's brother, underground fighting ring, smut, slight fluff, cute, Johnny is a fighter, accidental reveals, worry about what others think

𖤓 Slowly falling in love with Johnny By @viasdreams SMAU, co-workers to lovers, working at a subway shop together, mentions of co-worker Chenle, shift leader Johnny, developing feelings, fluff, cute

𖤓 Happy Thanksgiving By @nctsplug02 Drabble, Idol Johnny, non-celebrity reader, Johnny is away on tour, slightly tipsy reader, talking over the phone, fluff, smut, phone sex

𖤓 Sweet deception By @neowinestainedress 19.5k, Haechan|Yuta|Jaehyun|Jaemin|Johnny|Jeno x reader, halloween party, smut, monsterfucking, demon Haechan, fairy Jaemin, incusub Jeno, tentacle monster Yuta, ghost Jaehyun, shadow Johhny, smut, plot twist

𖤓 Rock, paper, scissors By @neowinestainedress 11.7k, Johnny|Jaehyun|Jeno|Jaemin x reader, best friends au, smut, fivesome, sexual tension, teasing, childhood friends to lovers?, summer holiday

𖤓 Can you handle it? By @neowinestainedress 12.4k, Johnny|Jaehyun|Jeno|Jaemin x reader, part 2 to rock, paper, scissors, smut, discussing kinks, sexual tension, dirty talk, best friends to possible lovers?

𖤓 Lovesick Fool By @gyeomsweetgyeom 2.4k, college au-ish, coworkers au, calling each other work husband & wife, jealousy, Jaehyun is Johnny's roommate, pining, mutual crush

𖤓 [5:58pm] By @gyeomsweetgyeom Drabble, established relationship, play on a your mom joke, except you're really at his mom's, reader has a good relationship with Johnny's parents, fluff, humour

𖤓 [4:51pm] By @gyeomsweetgyeom Drabble, established relationship, CEO Johnny, somewhat secret relationship (not purposely), bets going on about when they would get together, fluff, humour

[pedge-page]

Pedge-Page MASTERLIST

All fics are explicit content: 18 + ONLY, MINORS DNI

🔸️- indicates new

Joel Miller

Rough Day tags: freeuse, rough to soft Joel

Swim Lessons tags: friends to lovers, teasing, shower sex

There's Only One Joel Miller tags: posessive, dubcon, slight breeding

Mother who Provides , Mother Who Indulges , Extra Helpings tags: sub!Joel, breastfeeding, mommy kink

You Please, My Pleasure tags: Sub!Joel, Mommy Kink

Pregnancy Ft Tommy, Breakfast Bunch tags: pregnancy, sharing, cucking, breastfeeding, breeding

Bloodkink!Joel tags: fear, blood licking, toxic

Discipline tags: sub!Joel, ball torture, hands free orgasm

Live a Little, Give a Little, More [part 2] , Homemade 🔸️public sex, exhibitionist, strangers

lactation tags: preganncy, breastfeeding

belly bump tags: pregnancy, cumplay

featuring Tess tags: pregnancy, forced breeding

Lactation 2 tags: breastfeeding, hands free orgasm, breeding

Milk Run tags: breastfeeding, sub!joel, public

Routine tags: breastfeeding

Fat!Joel , 2

Joel Knows Best tags: oral, dumbification

cult!Joel drabble tags: cult, breeding, breastfeeding

New Heights tags: fwb, intox, cheating

Daddies, Daddies, Daddies tags: infidelity, step!dad, breeding

Whatever You Say tags: step!dad, sub!Joel, voyuerism

Nobody Knows My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

A Doctors Care 🔸️ tags: corruption, doctor!Joel, sedation kink

Sub/Himbo!Joel: Safe, Closer , Statement, Mine is Mine, Over the Edge, Humpty Dumpty Different Kind of Lovin tags: sub!Joel, breeding, Mommy kink

Piss Kink : piss kink 1, piss kink 2, piss kink 3, foot job drabble , Thirsty! , piss kink 4, PlushiesxPK Crossover, Shared Room, Puppy Lessons, PlushiesxPKxPregnant Crossover, The Garden of Peeden, Don't Be Shy, Puddles, Different Kind of Lovin (himbo) , tags: piss kink, occasional sub!Joel

Adventures in "Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife" masterlist

Plushies Series Masterlist

Best Man Series Masterlist

Other drabbles / ideas: horse, reversal, lap, training, slaver, hard to get, little pill, dreams, bimbo, converse , unmarried, virgin mother , breeding party, cordecypts!Joel

Extras: babee, soccer mom, Sarah's crush, helper, butter, ring, pickup lines, seahorse

Din Djarin / The Mandalorian

Partners tags: fwb, breeding kink, dub con to non con

Drabbles : riding, feeling, Lothal Cat, hunt

Frankie Morales

Cravings Series (complete)

Sharing is Caring Series

Drables: suffocate, tied, patch, taste, Thanksgiving, kiss , therapy

Javi Peña

One Last Time

Dieter Bravo

Red Carpet Debut 🔸️

Marcus/Justus Acacius

Drabbles: skirt tent ,

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair.

Sometimes Dreams Change

Prompt: "There’s no rule against just looking!" | Word Count: 4930 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Mentions of Therapy | Tags: Future Fic, Thanksgiving, Old Friends, Reconnecting, Friends to Lovers, Personal Growth, Found Family, Non-Famous Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"You're staring," Wayne says.

"What?" Eddie asks, but he's still focusing on the action happening across the room. Steve's carving the turkey at the kitchen counter, Robin flitting around, giving what Eddie is sure is unnecessary, and nearly certainly unhelpful, feedback.

"You're staring," Wayne repeats, nudging Eddie in the ribs.

Eddie jerks his head, gaze changing directions.

"There's no rule against just looking!" Eddie snaps, and Wayne just keeps staring at him, unimpressed.

This is stupid. 

Steve Harrington ran into them at the Big Buy, invited them to Thanksgiving dinner, and now Eddie is looking at his handsome ass in a pair of very well tailored khakis and a dark teal sweater, carving a fucking turkey that he cooked himself. This shouldn't work for Eddie, but it is.

He's matured. He's a goddamn man. He looks it, sounds it, and by this house, lives it.

The house is his now, his parents moving onwards and upwards, apparently. Leaving Hawkins for good. Lots of people did, though, after that spring of '86. Eddie being one of the first out the door. But looking around, Steve has remodeled this house into a home, something that looks warm and lived in, unlike it did back when Steve was a teen. It clearly has the fingerprints of Steve and Robin all over it, and it's for the better.

In a world where Eddie is still living out of his duffel bag, and spending his nights in crowded smoky bars, Steve has gone and become a real grown up. Who'd have thought? 

When Eddie thinks of Steve, of Robin, they are still frozen as they were that summer they all spent together healing. 

But that's not the truth of it, not anymore. No, now Steve's carving a turkey. Eddie's not sure he'd even be trusted with a paring knife.

He isn't even sure of the last time he's had an actual turkey for Thanksgiving that didn't come pre-sliced on a sandwich from a gas station. He's definitely never cooked one.

Gareth and Mama Jones are at the table, chit-chatting, and it's just the six of them. Apparently, Robin had demanded a turkey, and the only one they had left was too big for two people, so the invite to Eddie and Wayne ended up being extended to Gareth and his mom, too. 

And here they are. A hodgepodge of pairings that didn't really have anywhere else to be for the holiday.

Eddie hadn't even laid eyes on Steve Harrington since the band fled town, Eddie freshly healed from his wounds after his week in hell. And now they're spending the holiday together. It makes no sense.

The band hasn't made it big, but they've made it work. They play regularly, make enough cash to get by, and that's more than he'd ever expected, honestly. They're serviceable musicians that have gotten more polished with practice and time, but they're not good enough to be stars, that's for damn sure. But the gigs are fun, and pay the bills, at least some of the time, so they've kept at it just because they still love to do it.

Eddie tears his eyes away from Steve before Wayne gives him more shit, and goes to sit next to Gareth, his back to the kitchen so he'll stop gawking.

It's just good to see old friends, that's all.

After dinner, they sit around a catch up, and Eddie has honed in on something that he doesn't like. Not at all.

Getting Wayne alone, he stares him down.

"What?" Wayne drawls.

"Don't what me," Eddie hisses.

Wayne laughs, and Eddie has to nip this in the bud.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, yanking on Wayne's arm, fingers digging into the plaid sleeve of his shirt.

"What are you on about, kid?" Wayne asks, playing dumb, and Eddie gives him the best version of stink-eye that he can muster.

"That's his mom," Eddie bemoans, and Wayne laughs.

"I'm just being friendly. You're reaching."

Eddie is not reaching. Wayne doesn't sit around and laugh like a loon, but he's damn well been doing it all afternoon. He is not hitting on Mama Jones. That's…that's against the law. Several, probably.

"Don't," Eddie warns.

"You could be brothers," Wayne says, goading Eddie, and Eddie takes the bait. He always does. 

"Stop it. Right now. Or I'm telling."

Wayne laughs, "Telling who? My mother? She's been dead for a while, kid. Sorry about that."

Eddie huffs out an annoyed breath, "I'm gonna go smoke. You mind your own goddamn business, old man. Or I'll tell Gareth, and well, those will be your consequences to deal with."

It's cool outside, not really cold, but definitely breezy. Eddie pulls his jacket tighter to his body. He lights a cigarette, and takes a deep breath, looking over at the winterized pool and the woods beyond.

It's weird being home in Hawkins, and even stranger being at Steve Harrington's house. He's stayed away for nearly a decade, not really ready to face the town that would have been happier to see him strung up in the town square, innocent or not.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says from somewhere behind him, and Eddie jumps, then laughs.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie responds, offering his hand. Steve takes it, giving it a firm shake and it feels weird. They aren't handshake guys. 

"That's me," Steve says, "nice to meet you."

Eddie laughs, at least Steve thinks the handshake was as ridiculous as Eddie does.

"Thanks for inviting us, man. It was really good. I had no idea you could cook a turkey."

Steve smiles, "Well, honestly, me either. I just found a cookbook in the cabinet and winged it. Luckily I didn't burn the house down or anything."

And then Steve laughs. 

Somehow, Steve Harrington at thirty-two is even more gorgeous than he was at twenty. Life is truly unfair. Eddie's not sure how this man isn't married with the half dozen kids that he'd once wanted. But he looks happy, settled. His face seems free of the trauma they once shared, while Eddie feels forever destined to be treading water. 

He wishes he had the secret to that, because out of the blue he'll still have nightmares. Gareth has to wake him up, and reassure him he's fine, that everything's fine, that it's not real.

But it was real. He lived it. 

And it has fucked him up, irreparably.

"Catch me up, tell me everything," Steve says, hand snaking out and stealing his cigarette, taking a long drag. Eddie's body thrums with a want that he hasn't felt in a good long while.

"Don't tell Robin," Steve says with a wink, handing the cigarette back and then looks at Eddie expectantly. Eddie really doesn't have a lot to tell.

"Well, we're on the road. We get gigs, solid work, but it's not like we're gonna break into the mainstream anytime soon. Anytime at all, honestly."

"But you enjoy it? The gigs? The travel?" Steve asks, and isn't that a string of loaded questions.

"Yes," Eddie says, "most of the time."

Steve cocks his head to the side, like a curious dog, "And the other times?"

"It's rough, sometimes. Still. Always." 

"What would it take for you to feel better on the road more often?" Steve asks.

Fuck if Eddie knows. If he did, he'd already be doing it. He just shrugs.

"What kind of support system do you have while you're away from home?"

Eddie doesn't really have a home, but that's a can of worms he's definitely not cracking open.

"Um, Wayne's always a phone call away? And the guys are there," he says, then adds, "Gareth has made it his life's purpose to make sure I'm not alone for longer than five minutes. Makes bathroom time fun, let me tell you."

Then he feels his face flushing. He's rambling. He tried to make it seem like it's a joke, but it's not. Not really. He just doesn't know why he's admitting to any of this. It's like Steve turned on a faucet and now Eddie's leaking out all his private business, full-flow.

"I'm almost never alone. By design," Eddie adds.

That's the cold, honest truth. 

"Why do you think that is?" Steve asks, looking like he expects Eddie to have an answer. Good god, that's a lot of questions, a lot of expectations. 

"What are you, my therapist?" Eddie teases, trying to turn the tide away from seriousness, and Steve laughs, head tossed back, hair flying.

"Well. Not your therapist. But a therapist," he says, and no fucking way. Eddie didn't know that. How did he not know that?

That's one way to fix yourself he supposes.

He grins, leaning closer, leering a little, "You gonna psychoanalyze me? Find out what my damage is?"

Steve doesn't back away, instead he reaches out and cups Eddie's shoulder, squeezing, "Unfortunately, I know what your damage is."

And fuck. He certainly does, at least the biggest, hardest chunk of it. Eddie casts his eyes to the ground.

"But if you want to talk," Steve says, and Eddie is already shaking his head, but Steve keeps going, "off the record, off the books, just me and you. Old friends. Shared experiences. All that. Definitely not as your therapist. That's unethical. But, believe it or not, I've been told I'm a good listener."

He smiles, and it's so warm Eddie wants to word vomit all over him. He won't. But he wants to.

Steve keeps talking, "I'm always here if you want me to be. But that'd be true no matter what I did for a living."

And Eddie nods at that. He knows it's an honest offer, no strings attached. Because he knows Steve Harrington. He's a good dude.

Back on the road, Eddie didn't think he would, but he calls Steve. From motels. From pay phones. And he answers, carving out time to hear about Eddie's day. It must be draining for him to hear people talk all day about their problems, their damage, and then make the time to listen to Eddie do more of the same at least once a week for free.

Eddie tries not to take up his personal time, but Steve is a good listener, as advertised. He gives solid ear, which is probably good since that's his job. But mainly, he just listens and then sounds like he actually cares.

He does care. Eddie knows he does. Steve Harrington has always cared about all of them.

"You're really a therapist to the people of Hawkins?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a snorting thing that sounds delighted, "Absolutely not. No, no, no. I have an office in Muncie. I'm not touching the problems of the people of Hawkins with a ten foot pole. They're a lost cause."

Eddie laughs. He knows that's hyperbole, but still. Yeah. Steve Harrington can't be a therapist in Hawkins. That'd be playing on hard mode, for sure. He knows too much about all of them, and they surely have opinions on him as well. Correct, or not.

"Well, did becoming a therapist help you get rid of all your baggage?" Eddie asks, because he's been curious. Steve seems so upbeat, so happy, that Eddie wants in on the secret.

"No," Steve laughs, "I've still got a few suitcases in the closet. But it has made me accept myself and my history more. But I went to therapy first, and that's what helped me process what we all went through."

"How in the hell did you tell a therapist what we went through without ending up committed in Pennhurst?"

Steve chuckles, "Dr. Owens set it up. He would have for you, too, if you hadn't flown the coop so damn fast."

"I wouldn't have trusted them," Eddie says, and that's the god's honest truth. No way, no how.

"I get it. It was hard. Robin went first. She survived, and so I thought, well, why not? It helped. Then, I wanted to do that for other people, to help them, too. Pay it forward. Whatever you want to call it."

"And that's what you're doing for me? I'm your project?" 

Steve laughs. 

"No, I'm your friend. I'm not your therapist."

He tells Eddie that at least once per call. 

"But I'd help you find one, if you ever want that. Because what I tell you isn't my professional opinion, it's my personal one. I'm not objective. I can't be. Because I was there. Because while I didn't experience the exact same thing as you, I know. I remember. You're not crazy. You're not overreacting. What happened to you, to all of us, sucked. It was unfair. And I'm sorry for the younger versions of us."

Eddie is quiet for a moment. 

"Me too, Steve. Me, too."

Another call, in another city, in another motel room that doesn't feel like home.

"I have sex to fill the holes," Eddie blurts out, totally unprompted. 

Steve cackles in his ear, and even from several states away, Eddie can feel the amusement on his face. Can picture it, clear as day. 

"Well, that is one of the main ways sex happens." 

Eddie laughs, "You're an asshole." 

"You teed me up. That's on you," Steve teases, and it makes Eddie feel better. He prefers that to feeling stripped raw. 

"There's nothing wrong with having an active sex life," Steve says.

"Gross," Eddie teases, then after a long pause, "Most of the time I feel worse after," Eddie admits, and he doesn't know why. 

"Then that could be a concern," Steve says. "Why do you think it can make you feel worse?"

"I want to feel safe. And I'm never gonna get that on the road from random hookups. I want a home to return to. I want to be loved, I think." 

"That's normal, Ed. I want you to have that, too." 

"But I can't meet someone on the road. And I don't want to just go home to Wayne and be a drain. I need space to recharge, not feel obligated to put on my bravest face." 

"Wayne doesn't want your bravest face, he just wants you, as you are."

"I know," and Eddie does know that. But it's easier said than done, "but I can't. He can't know how bad off I am, sometimes. He'd worry."

Steve lets the silence sit, he's gotten good at that, and that's always to Eddie's determent, because Eddie will fill any silence offered up to him.

"Why don't you have a family?" Eddie asks, and then immediately regrets it. It's too blunt, even for old friends.

Steve doesn't seem to miss a beat, though. Eddie guesses that's fair. If Steve can ask probing questions, so can Eddie. Even if he has far less tact about it.

"I mean, I have Robin. She's my family."

"But you didn't get married? Didn't have kids? You really wanted that. That was your dream," Eddie says, because that's something he's always felt sure about. Steve wanted to settle down, and Eddie wanted to fly free. 

"Well," Steve says, "sometimes dreams change. And that's okay."

And that cuts Eddie to the quick, because he damn well knows that's true. He's been feeling like maybe his dream has changed, but he's been tamping it down for months. Years, maybe.

But he can't tell the guys that he dreams of hanging up his guitar. Of going home, wherever home may be. He can't let them down like that. They were there when he needed them the most, and he's determined to be there for them now. 

It's just exhausting, and he hates that he feels that way. It's supposed to be fun.

"Okay, how about this? Come here, then," Steve says, "come home here. Anytime. Lay low, recharge your batteries with me. And Robin. We'll let you be. Let you step away from the music for a day, a weekend, a week, a month at a time. Whatever you need." 

"Steve, I can't just crash your life," Eddie says. 

"You won't. We'd love to have you. I promise to not 'therapize' you," he teases, using Eddie's own words against him, and Eddie imagines he even did the sarcastic air quotes.

"I-"

"You can."

And maybe Eddie will.

Steve opens the door to the guest room, "It has its own bathroom, so you've got your own space. But the whole house is free range. Go where you want. Do what you want. I get home at about six, Robin at seven. We usually eat then, and you're welcome to join us. Or eat before we get here to avoid us, or after we go to bed. Leftovers will be in the fridge. Help yourself."

"Steve, this is-"

"Nothing. We're glad you're here. And if I don't see you before you leave, it's been good to see your face. Twice in one year, now we're talking."

Eddie laughs, and leans forward to rest his forehead on Steve's shoulder, "Thanks, Steve."

"Anytime."

Eddie stays holed up for three days. He hears Steve and Robin, but never sees them, and true to Steve's word, they don't try to draw him out of his room. He sleeps, and writes, and just the sounds of them moving around the house makes him feel not so alone.

On the fourth day, he's sitting at the kitchen counter when Steve walks in, grocery bags in hand.

"It's chicken parm night," Steve says, not making a fuss about seeing him for the first time in days.

"Sounds good."

He eats with them, and he feels so much better, that he regrets it when it's finally time to get back to the band.

After that, the room becomes Eddie's, somehow. He leaves stuff, and comes and goes. Tonight he drops his bags at the door, and immediately barrels over the back of the couch. Steve protects his crotch from a stray knee, but otherwise catches him, laughing.

He's home. 

Somehow, this is his home, even if he's scared to admit that to himself.

They haven't talked about it, have barely even breathed it, but it's the god's honest truth: Steve Harrington is his home.

Steve smooths Eddie's hair back from his forehead and then rests his cheek against Eddie's exposed skin.

"How was the gig?" Steve asks, and Eddie makes a non-committal noise. It was fine, but he's tired and doesn't want to talk. He just wants to lay here.

And Steve lets him do exactly that.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows Steve is rousing him.

"Bed," Steve says, and Eddie reluctantly climbs off of him. Steve has to work tomorrow, but Eddie wasn't done. Life's unfair like that. 

Eddie follows him up the stairs, and down the hall, and detours into his room as Steve keeps walking. 

Eddie brushes his teeth, washes his face, and then lays in the bed staring at the ceiling. 

He can't sleep like this. 

Finally, Eddie gets up, walks down the hall and taps on Steve's door.

"Come in," Steve answers, muffled.

Steve says nothing else, asks no questions for once in his life, just throws back the sheets, an invitation. Eddie takes it, and crawls in his bed, pressing his face into Steve's bare back, arm wrapped around, squeezing him tight. Steve just rests his hand on Eddie's arm, squeezing briefly, before he falls back asleep.

After that, his own bed stays empty. He shows up, crawls in bed with Steve, and neither of them mention it. It is what it is.

Instead, they talk about everything else. Eddie spills his guts, and tells him everything under the cover of night. All his biggest fears, all the pain that still digs at him, down deep.

And Steve listens.

It's becoming a pattern of good days and bad days. He has good days with Steve, and bad days anywhere else. It's unfair to the band, and he doesn't know how to tell them that he's been thinking things they aren't going to like.

"How's Steve?" Gareth asks. 

Eddie nods, non-committal, "Good. The same." 

"Jeff got the new stack of contracts. Five shows a week, all over the country." 

Eddie doesn't wince. Doesn't move a muscle. Nobody told him they planned to hit the circuit that aggressively. 

It's fine. 

"Some weeks six," Gareth adds.

"That's cool," Eddie says, neutral. Cool as a cucumber. 

"Won't have much time off anymore," Gareth says. "Probably won't get to go home for a while."

"At least we'll be making some extra cash," Eddie says, aiming for the bright side. 

"Well, they aren't big offers. But enough to keep us on the road with some beer money to spare." 

Eddie nods, and says nothing. 

Gareth flops down next to him, "All that sounds good to you?" 

"Sure, whatever we've got scheduled is great."

Gareth whips around, grabbing his arms and shaking him, "Goddamnit, Ed! Fight back! Stand up for yourself!" 

Eddie just stares at him. What the fuck is he talking about? This kid is gonna give him whiplash. Figuratively, and literally, if he doesn't stop shaking him.

"Say you want to quit, or take a break, or just see Steve! At least tell me the truth if you won't tell anybody else!" 

Eddie grabs at his hair and pulls. 

Gareth doesn't let go of him, saying, "None of that is true, I was just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once. Since when did you start lying to me? To me." 

"We don't have new contracts?" Eddie asks. 

"No. We all talked. We're taking a break. Stepping back to see if this is still what we want. And you need to do that, too. At home, with Steve, with Wayne, wherever you need to be." 

"I need you," Eddie says. 

"I'll go where you go, if you want me to. Just. We can't keep doing it like this. You look miserable." 

He is miserable.

"I've tried to keep my head in it," Eddie swears, because he has.

"I know that. We all know that. We love you, that's never gonna change." 

And Eddie leans forward, pressing his forehead into Gareth's shoulder. Gareth pets his head, and lets him lean against him, "It's gonna be fine. No matter what."

"Thanks, kid."

When Eddie turns up this time on Steve's doorstep, it's late, and he has extra baggage. 

Gareth looks like he's moving in for good with his luggage and drums, but Steve looks completely unfazed. 

Robin, on the other hand, "Why are you here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gareth mumbles, and climbs the stairs.

"And why are there drums? There'll be no drumming in this house!" Robin yells, but Steve seems nonplussed and just keeps guiding them upstairs.

"Pick a room, or hole up in Eddie's. It's got its own bathroom," Steve says, and Eddie feels like that's an engraved invitation for him to keep crashing with Steve. Good. He wants that. 

Everybody is tired, and splits off for the night.

Once in bed, Eddie rolls onto his side, "He went home to surprise Mama Jones, and he's the one that got surprised. Wayne was in his old man boxers on the couch. Gareth may need intensive therapy. Shock therapy. Exposure therapy. Something."

Steve smiles, "Not it."

And Eddie laughs, rolling closer to Steve. He already feels better just being next to him.

He's looking forward to this break. 

The next morning, Eddie's sitting at the kitchen counter doing the crossword. Gareth's still in bed, Robin and Steve are cooking breakfast, bickering, in front of him. He's learned to tune it out for the most part. He's shared rooms in motels with paper thin walls for over a decade. He can ignore anything at this point.

"Ask your boyfriend, I sure as hell don't know," Robin says, and Eddie freezes. Well, he can't ignore that.

"Oh, like he knows," Steve answers, not missing a beat of their banter. 

Are they boyfriends? Did Eddie miss that memo? Holy shit. Does he have a boyfriend he's never even kissed? 

Then his stomach swoops, maybe Steve has a real boyfriend, one Eddie's just never met because he's never here, because he's self-centered and lost in his own—

"Earth to Eddie, I'm talking to you," Robin says, snapping her fingers in Eddie's face. 

Oh. He is the aforementioned boyfriend. 

He laughs, and it sounds shrill to his own ears, "What? I was off in my own world." 

"Well, what else is new?" Robin chides. 

He has a boyfriend, and he's just not sure how.

That night, Eddie is tossing and turning in bed. He can't sleep. Not with this hanging over his head. It's all he's thought about all damn day. Is Steve his boyfriend? Does Steve want to be his boyfriend? Can they fuck? Can they get married?

"What's up?" Steve asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Are we boyfriends?" Eddie asks, blunt and direct. Well, at least he didn't ask him if they could fuck. Small miracles abound.

Steve rolls over at that, "How would you feel about being boyfriends?"

Eddie wants to scream, "Can you, for once, not answer my questions with more questions?!"

Steve reaches out and takes both of Eddie's forearms into his hands, "I love you. In any way you'll let me."

He surges forward and kisses Steve, too hard, too fast, and it's awful. He's awful. Everything about this is awful. Steve deserves better than whatever the fuck this was.

"I'm sorry, goddamn, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Eddie asks, and he hears the blood rushing in his ears. He's embarrassed. 

"Nothing's wrong with you. Robin shouldn't have said that. I don't expect anything from you. No strings are attached here. But, yeah. I feel like whatever we've got going is something, but if you aren't interested—

Eddie cuts him off, "I've been interested since before you knew my name back in school. I just didn't think you would ever be."

"Eddie," Steve says, "I had feelings after everything that happened that spring. I just didn't have time to work through them, or understand them, until you were already gone."

What is Eddie supposed to do with that information? 

Eddie reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

He's such a mess he got into some kind of relationship with Steve without even meaning to, and now he's got to navigate that. He wants to though, he really, really wants to. Even if he's bad at it. Even if he's never had a long-term romantic relationship, ever. 

Maybe he'll be bad at it, maybe he won't. But finally, with the band on hiatus, he'll have the luxury of time to try to do it right. 

And he'll get a second-crack at that kiss if it's the last thing he does.

Six Months Later

Eddie slings his bag over his shoulder, all smiles. Pressing his lips to Steve's. Once, twice, a third time just for good measure, and Steve grins against his lips until Eddie kisses his teeth by accident.

He's leaving home, but he'll be coming back again in just a few days.

"Hold down the fort," he instructs Steve, and Steve salutes him, and then Eddie's out the door.

On stage, he has fun, so much fun, in fact, that he hesitates to leave the bright spotlights at the end of the set. It hasn't been like that in a long, long time. They've gotten some bigger gigs, still nothing life-changing, but an opening act slot that is putting them in a handful of larger venues they've never stepped foot inside until now.

It's pretty goddamn cool.

He's found a balance, somehow, and he knows it's all thanks to Steve's patience.

And when he walks back through the door at home, Steve is wrestling a turkey into a disposable pan. Getting ready to start the days-long thawing process. Eddie watches him put it in the fridge, and then wash his hands.

It's been a year, and Eddie feels like his whole world has changed. One random meeting in the grocery store changed the whole trajectory of his life, he's pretty damn sure.

"I got the dining room table leaf out of the attic," Steve says, "we should have plenty of room for the Williamses and the Goodwins now."

Eddie grins. Their tradition is growing, and he couldn't be happier that more people he loves will all be under one roof for Thanksgiving this year.

"Wayne and Mama Jones are bringing the mashed potatoes," Eddie informs Steve. He'd just talked to Wayne this morning, and the old man was complaining about all the potato peeling in his future.

"Robin would cry and whine if we made her mash that many," Steve says, and Robin yells "Hey!" from the other room, and they just laugh together.

It's going to be a family affair, the whole extended family. Anybody that's in town. Dustin and Claudia. Joyce and Hop. 

Anybody that doesn't want to cook at home, or just wants to be with old friends, are more than welcome. Eddie thinks this is gonna be their tradition now, and he loves it.

"I actually got two turkeys," Steve says, leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle as he tosses the dish towel over his shoulder. 

"You sure that's enough?" Eddie asks, teasing.

"Here's to hoping," Steve answers. 

He's home. Steve's here. Robin's here. Gareth's here.

Everybody else that he loves will be here in a few days time. He feels really thankful.

And most importantly, he finally feels very loved.

Notes: Coming in hot with that new couple alert!! Go Wayne and Mama Jones, haha. I couldn't resist. It seemed like such fun, and Gareth would hate it.

When I wrote Take the Money and Run I had to figure out where Hawkins was on the map to me. I'd picked the location of Renner, and I've kind of just kept with that as I've written other things, this included. So, Muncie sits about 26 highway miles southeast of Hawkins, and that seemed like a reasonable place for Steve to commute to work. I wanted Steve in "Harrington House" as I nearly always do, lol, but he could not be a therapist to Hawkins. It was fun to imagine though. Karen Wheeler on his couch talking about Ted? Tommy H. discussing his third divorce? The possibilities were endless, if surely unethical, haha.

For better or worse, if I need a Macguffin for how they got money or help or anything from the government after the events of S4, it's probably gonna be Dr. Owens. And that was true here as well. Thanks, Dr. O. You've been real helpful to me, and the characters! You're a clutch dude, lol.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Santa Baby

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Not wanting them to feel left out, you show some kindness to a coworker, only to be repaid with a most unexpected act of generosity.

Character: Jake Jensen

Day Six of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity  

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another message pops up on the Teams chat, then a reaction. As chair of the social committee, you swiftly open the conversation to review the interaction. The secret santa is a success. So far. 

You check another name off your list. You want to make sure that all the exchanges are made. You even arranged to deliver gifts on behalf of those with the day booked off. It’s all going smoothly and you’re a few hours away from declaring another office holiday season a success. 

Then you have to worry about the other holiday. The one for your family. Your kids are sorted but the gifts need to be wrapped. And your husband, he’s the nosiest of all. You’ll need to make sure he isn’t sniffing around your bag again. 

The presents are just one thing. Your time off won’t be that. You have to drive three hours north to see your family. You still don’t think your sister, Shayna, forgives you for that little argument at Thanksgiving. And if your brother, Jamar, even shows up, that might be worse than the alternative. 

Your workday triumph is one thing you can be proud of before your home life implodes. 

You run the clock out, your list filling with tick marks. As you reach the one-hour countdown, there’s one name left. Jensen. Strange. He’s handed off his own gift but hasn’t yet received anything. Maybe he just didn’t post in the chat. He does get distracted easily. 

As another minute runs off, you jump into action. You head down to accounting to ask Alan about it. He’s swiveling casually in his chair as you approach, nonchalant as she stares at his monitor dully. You say his name to get his attention. 

“Hey, just checking in. Going around and making sure everything’s been sorted for the swap. You gave Jensen his present right?” 

Alan scoffs and chews the end of a ballpoint, “nah.” 

“No?” You frown, “okay, well can you do it by the end of the day--” 

“Nope,” he snorts. “Didn’t get one.” 

“What?” You have to measure your voice.  

“Didn’t feel like it. Guy’s a dweeb.” 

“Regardless of your personal feelings, this was voluntary and you signed up,” you chide. 

“Mm, kinda too late, isn’t it?” He shrugs and turns back to his screen. “I got a wife who’ll tear my throat out if she doesn’t get a month’s pay in gifts so that goggly-eyed nerd is the least of my worries.” 

You sigh. There’s always one bad egg. It’s like when you ask your kids to just not fight for one day. It never happens yet you still keep trying. 

“Happy holiday, Alan,” you snipe and stomp away. 

You should have expected one thing to go wrong. It always has to and you’re always the one cleaning it up. Why would anyone call this the happiest time of the year? It’s the most stressful and the only thing you ever get are a few new grey hairs.  

Well, Kathleen did get you that fancy three-wick candle you plan to put in your bathroom, though you’re not sure how much relaxation you can get when your kids can’t leave you to soak for more than five minutes without interruption. You remind yourself to stop looking for the problems. You’re the problem-solver, not the problem-dweller. 

You can figure this out. You go to your desk and grab your purse and nothing else. You hurry out, ignoring several utterances in your direction. If people need you now, well, they should’ve thought of that earlier. It might not be important to them or to your job, but you’d hate to be the only person left out. You have been before. It’s why you’re such a people pleaser. 

There’s a hobby shop not far from the office building. You went there for your son’s gift. He’s a big fan of anime. You enter and greet the cashier with an apologetic smile. They are also gearing up for the end of the day. 

“Promise, I’ll be quick,” you assure him. 

He just shrugs, “no problem, lady.” 

You stop and take a breath, gathering your wits into order. Your racing thoughts, your hammering adrenaline, it’s like a platoon of disordered soldiers scattering inside of you. You call them into formation and turn down the center aisle. 

You glance over the products on the shelf. Jensen always had that Tetris keychain dangling from his lanyard when he came to troubleshoot. It’s the only video game you ever played, though your daughter let you run around her Animal Crossing island once. She banned you after you offended her favourite cat character. 

You bend to the lower shelf, hips straining with the effort, and you claim the box with the red clearance tag, marked right under the spending cap. The mini arcade machine proclaims 30+ games to play, including classics like Pong, Pac-man, his bow wearing counterpart, and Tetris! 

You take it to the counter and ask if they do gift wrap. Sorry, no. That’s okay. You pay and mourn the bottle of wine you’ll have to forego to accommodate the extra expense. 

You hurry back down the street, without a jacket to protect you from the biting chill or drifting flakes. The snow dampens your face and clothes, catching and melting in your hair as you clack in your heels frantically. 

Fifteen minutes left in the day. You rush into the lobby and tap the elevator button impatiently. Screw it. 

You tuck the box under one arm and go to the stairs. You take off your heels and clamour up in your stockinged feet. You’re breathless as you get to the top. You push through the heavy metal door and stomp forward, shoes dangling from your fingers. 

You ignore the looks sent in your direction. You stop briefly to scratch off the price tag and attempt to compose yourself. You proceed down to IT and approach Jensen as he bites his thumb, his other hand hovering over his keyboard. 

His rectangular glasses reflect his screen and his blond hair is spiked only one side as it appears the other has been flattened by anxious palming. You keep from slamming down the box and instead stop beside him. “Excuse me, Jensen.” 

“Huh, uh, oh,” he turns his chair and looks up at you. He smooths his Luigi-themed tie as he plants his feet wide. “Oh, hi. Is your PC overheating again--” 

“Merry Christmas,” you shove the box towards him, “special delivery.” 

He hesitates and pushes his glasses down the bridge of his nose. He blinks as he examines the box. He lowers his hand to his chest and pinches the button of his shirt. 

“For me?” 

“So sorry, I was running around all day,” you explain. “I meant to get it to your earlier--” 

“Really?” He looks at your shoulder and you glance over at the melting snow. 

“It was in my car,” you lie swiftly. “I’m sorry, really.” 

“No, it’s...” he reaches to take the box, his hands brushing your cold fingers. “Oh gosh, you’re freezing.” 

“I’m fine,” you assure him as you retract your hold on the box. He gives you a lingering look before he leans back. 

“Huh, this is...” he lowers it to his lap and examines the box. “Really cool. Thanks.” He chuckles tensely, “I almost thought Santa forgot me.” 

“Again, I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not mad,” he assures you as he turns the box in his hands. “Really. I had to set an alarm to make sure I brought in mine, then another to give it to Terry.” 

“That’s a good idea. If we do this again, I’ll have to try that,” you smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy.” 

“Totally,” he agrees. “It’ll keep me busy on the time off.” 

Wish I had that problem, you think to yourself. “That’s great,” you chime. “Anywho, I don’t wanna keep you since the day’s almost done. I gotta get my desk tidied before I head out.” 

“Sure,” he gives a slanted grin, “this is so cool, thank you.” He grips the corners of the box, “I always knew you were the coolest.” 

You go back to the desk but the person waiting for you is a bad omen for your holiday. You hide your disappointment as Lee waits, leaning on the corner with arms crossed. You stop behind your chair. 

“Hello, Mr. Bodecker--” 

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he intones. 

“Right, what’s going on?” 

“That new one, the pretty thing, she miscalculated the Dorsey account.” 

You deflate. Of course she did. That one hasn’t done a single thing right since she started. 

“I’d ask her to redo it but I already did. Three times. Needs to be done for year end or accounting will have my ass in two,” he says without censor. 

“And you want me to do it?” You utter. 

“See, you always know exactly what needs to be done,” he clucks and stands straight, “double-overtime. It’ll be on your January pay.” 

“Right,” you swallow. There’s not denial to be given. Your performance review is also in January and you need the bonus after factoring in the family road trip. “I’ll get it done.” 

“Good woman,” he winks. “Put the hours into the system.” 

“Sure, happy holidays, sir.” 

“Ha,” he snorts, “if my ex-wife has anything to say about it, they won’t be.” 

You roll you chair under you and drop your purse between your feet. You send a quick text to your husband. The kids are being dropped off by Hannah anyway. He just needs to be home. Even he can figure out how to reheat the chili you froze last month. 

After you get your instructions sent, you turn your attention to your computer. You still have to finish up all your other wrap-up before you get to Dorsey. As you put your nose to the grind, Mary wishes you a happy break on her way out. She's followed by a speckled succession of eager coworkers, ready to begin their time off. 

Your eyes haze as the glare of your screen feels brighter with each passing second. You have a prescription but never a change to fill it. You don’t imagine the neglect is making your vision any better. 

The office grows desolate as you continue plucking away. As the snow falls on the other side of the windows, they dampen out the noise of the city. You’re isolated in your focus. The files for Dorsey are a complete mess. You're not sure how anyone could fail to balance a spreadsheet. There are very easy formulas to do the work for you. 

Mulling over mistakes won’t fix them. Your fingers flutter over the keys as you painstakingly restart the entire workbook from scratch. You’re disappointed, not that you’re stuck in the contradictingly uncomfortable ergonomic chair, but that you won’t get to see your kids or husband for more than an hour or two if that. 

You close your eyes as the gridlines burn into them. You lean back and rub your brows. There’s tension sewn into your brows. It’s grim how getting older really dims the sparkle of this time of year. Everyone else gets to be happy and you’re just the courier of that happiness. Maybe that should make you happy, that you can be that for them. 

No, it’s just exhausting. 

Before you can open your eyes or sit forward, you let out a yelp at the sudden warmth on your shoulders. You twitch and look up at Jensen as he stands behind your chair. Your heart quickly calms. 

“Oh, what are you still doing here?” You ask, a tremor of fright in your voice. 

“Back-end work,” he answers as he squeezes your shoulders. His touch is unexpected. You wiggle but he doesn’t let you go. “What about you?” 

“Just some last-minute quality control,” you answer. “You really snuck up on me.” 

“Ha, yeah,” he slowly drags his hands away, his fingers caressing your neck lightly. “Sorry, I... I didn’t know anyone else was here.” 

“Yeah, it’s quiet,” you agree. 

He leans on the back of your chair as his proximity clouds you. It’s a bit awkward. You just want to get your work done but can’t bring yourself to tell him to go away. Especially knowing what you know. He doesn’t deserve any of that just because he can be a bit different. 

“What about your family?” He asks. 

You wince and turn the chair to face him. You shrug, “I’ll be a bit late but they’ll survive without me.” 

“Sure, sure. You must be excited to spend time with them,” he lets go of your chair and backs up a single step as you look at him. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see them a bit more,” you agree. “What about you? You doing anything for the holidays?” 

He shakes his head as his lips thin, “no. Don’t really got anyone.” 

“Ah, well, it’s always a good time to catch up hobbies,” you offer. 

He nods and his throat bobs. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks sad in that moment. He’s still pretty young, you want to tell him to enjoy singlehood while he can. Yet you remember being in your late twenties and how those comments just made you feel worse. All the same, that feels so long ago. 

“I know what you did,” he says. 

“Pardon?” You sputter in confusion. 

“I know Alan got me. I overheard him when we got our names.” 

“Oh,” you’re speechless but for that single syllable. 

“It’s alright. I know people don’t always get me but... you know, you didn’t have to do all that just for me,” he shifts sheepishly on his feet, his cheeks tinging as he looks at the floor. 

“Well, it isn’t fair, is it?” You say. 

“Yeah, but...” He looks up shyly from behind his glasses, “you must be a good mom. And a good wife.” 

You’re not sure how to reply, “thank you? I try.” 

“Your kids and husband are very lucky,” he smirks. 

“Sure, I’m not sure they think so,” you say. “Waiting around for me to come home...” 

You go to turn back to your desk, but he’s quicker than you. He startles you as he grabs the arm of your chair and keeps you facing him. You press yourself against in as he bends over you. 

“Doesn’t sound like they appreciate you,” he says. 

“Jensen,” you murmur, “that’s... no, they’re my family. They do.” You spread your fingers over your thighs nervously. “Can you back up?” 

You cry out as he answers the question by pushing your chair back against the desk. The impact jars you as he leans in, closer and closer. You flatten yourself to the thin cushion and he plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“I appreciate you,” he whispers, his nose tickling your hairline.  

“Jensen, please, that’s not--” 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you as he drops to his knees before you. “I disabled the cameras...” 

“Jensen, what?” You squirm and grab the armrests. You try to push yourself to your feet and he slaps his hand against your stomach, shoving you back down. “Get off--” 

“They don’t treat you right. No one does.”  

"Jensen, that's sweet of you to say but please--" 

"Let me be sweet to you," he begs as he clings to your knees, thumbs sliding under the hem of your skirt.  

You grab the fabric as he tries to slide it up. You put your other hand on his chest as you sit forward. "No, okay, I know the holidays are hard but--"  

"I just wanna give you a gift. Since you gave me one," he purrs.  

"It's-- no, okay," you grab his wrist and your other hand slips up to shove his shoulder. "I'm married." He bends his head to brush his chin against your knuckles, like a cat eager for pets. The gesture fills you with pity, but cannot undercut your revulsion. "I said--" You push him again and he twists his arm free of your grasp.  

He grabs your wrists and lifts your hands. He squeezes and you feel his strength; even if he wasn't younger, you'd be just as helpless. He pulls your arms and puts your hands against his head. You feel the soft short bristle and shudder. He covers your hands with his and holds them snug.  

"Don't let go," he commands. His voice deepens, a razor's edge in his words. You stare at him dumbly. You don't dare disobey. It's as if your body is not your own as it refuses to respond to your fear. That inner plea is smothered by the pounding of your heart.  

He lets you go cautiously and drops his hands to your thighs. You flinch and let out a squeak. He glides down the pushes his hands under the fabric, hooking it with his thumbs as he forces it higher. You shiver at the sensation of his palms against your stockings.  

As he grazes along the naked skin above, you whimper. He hooks his hands around your hips and runs them under you, lifting you slightly to rumple your skirt below your waist. You shake as your hands remain glued to his head. 

You watch yourself from above as the scene plays out. The dimples in your thighs quake as horror floods your body. He slowly bends to press the tip of his nose against the front of your panties. He prods you through the fabric and hums. He swirls around, teasing you through the tenuous layer. 

Your hands fall away but he doesn’t notice. He’s too fixated on his prize. He tilts your hips, pulling you down in the chair as he moves your legs around him. Your lip trembles and your teeth grit, eyes hot in disbelief and disgust. How is this happening? 

He brings your knees over his shoulders then runs a finger up the back of your plain white cotton panties. The type that hardly get your husband in such a furor. He traces the edge and tugs it aside. 

You cry out as his tongue flicks along your folds. It feels like the first time all over again. You’re not neglected, just overworked and overtired. You don’t have the energy or the time. It doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Just busy. 

He pushes his face deep and laps you up, spreading his tongue as he tastes you with a growl. You clench the armrest, your other hand catching the top of his head as you try to urge him away. You croak and your cries crackle in the air. 

“Jensen,” you squeal. 

He pokes his tongue along your entrance and drags it up to your clit, then back down again. The tendrils crawl down your thighs as he reaches blindly for your hand. He moves it behind his head and presses it there. As he does, he nuzzles into you. 

He wiggles his head as he drinks you up. Your legs tense and your fingernails dig into his scalp between the short stubble of his hair. His glasses are crushed against your pelvis, forgotten as he devours you. You whine and close your eyes but you can still see yourself, like you’re watching a movie in your head. 

You see yourself giving in, melting into him, clinging to him as the coil winds tighter and tighter. As your orgasm builds, you feel yourself splitting into two. There is the body curled up in the chair, wrapped around his head, and the consciousness watching from outside.  

And it all evaporates into pleasure. Into forgotten wrongs and broken morals. Reality gives way to escape as you give into the stolen delight erupting from head to toe, as you give in to this man on his knees before you, begging you with the flick of his tongue. 

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas week 1 - Snowman, Cabin, Cold, Fireplace

rating: T | words: 1,958

i decided to craft a fic again this year, each chap for each week with each of the prompts in the chap somewhere.. see y'all next week for chap 2!

Thanksgiving of 1986 blusters in with record lows for the season, and a whole foot of powdery white snow along with it.

And if Eddie and Wayne hadn’t been invited to dinner with the rest of the Hopper-Byers clan, he’d’ve stayed right where he was, thank you. Bless whoever invented flannel sheets; May they be revered in Valhalla for their continued heroic victories over the ever present cold seasons.

A knock at his door interrupts his attempts at going back to sleep. “C’mon son, get goin’. It’s nearly two and we gotta get out to the Chief’s without dyin’.”

“Mmmurgh.”

“G’mornin’ to you too, sleepin’ beauty. Now, Up.”

The sound of Wayne’s footsteps creaking back down the hall, the squeak of the oven door hinges, the rumble of water in their ancient kettle, all the sounds of home and warmth and.. Surely he can close his eyes for just a minute lon—-

“Up, Ed!”

“‘Lrigh’, alright, I’m up!”

Being so brave about the cold, he flings off his sheets all at once, and hurriedly starts pulling on the clothes he laid out the night before. Non-ripped jeans, a thermal undershirt, his flannel, thick socks, jacket.. 

He stops as he’s about to pull on his shoes, kicked off haphazardly the night before, when he notices how bright everything seems behind the blanket he tacked up over the window. He pulls back a corner..

“Jesus H. Christ.. “

Snow.

He shakes his head and grabs his other shoe, “Wayne, we have plastic bags, right?”

–

Again, being so brave about the cold, Eddie shuffles the dish around in his lap carefully as he opens the door and lowers himself out of Wayne’s truck once they arrive.

“Careful now, that butter’s hot.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie says, looking at where he’s putting his feet. It looks like someone shoveled out the area, but better safe than sorry.

“Oh look at that, yer boyfriend’s here.”

Eddie’s head snaps up immediately. Wayne’s eyes are crinkled up mischievously as he glances up towards the snow-spattered burgundy BMW parked closer to the cabin.

“Shut up old man, he’s not my boyfriend.” Eddie grumbles, tilting his burning face back down to the snow scheming up his demise. 

“Oh, right, my mistake..you only wish he was.” Wayne chuckles, following him up the few steps to the front door.

Sure, he’d been actively flirting with Steve since before he was even out of the hospital, sometimes even in earshot of Wayne (to his utter embarrassment), but that doesn’t mean he particularly wants his uncle teasing him about it, or that Steve’s even been receptive to it.

(Well, he’s blushed a couple times, and rolled his eyes seemingly fondly… and he’s not asking Eddie to stop…)

“He’ll get there, kiddo,” Wayne says as he pats Eddie's back, then turns to give the door two solid knocks.

Eddie’s face burns, “I said, shut up. You’re the worst.”

There’s a couple steps from inside, then the door opens on a still thin, but slowly filling out, Former Chief Hopper.

“Glad you guys made it, wasn’t expecting snow.” Hopper says, reaching a hand out to shake Wayne’s.

“Thanks for havin’ us Chief, cozy place you got here.”

Hopper grunts in a facsimile of appreciation for the compliment as he ushers them in. “Did some work to it since bein’ back, fireplace is finally fixed, added a couple rooms and a half bath…”

“You’re kiddin’, and you didn’t invite me over? You know I use’ta be a SeaBee.”

Hopper waves him off as Eddie tunes them out, taking the few steps into the kitchen to drop his about-to-start-burning-him dish on the stove top, and turning away toward the back door.

“What’re we lookin’ at?”

Steve and Robin both startle at Eddie’s voice coming from between their heads, both of them focused out the back door’s big window.

“Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” Steve says at the same time Robin smacks his shoulder with an “Asshole.”

“We’re waiting for Nance to get back from Indy with the boys,” Steve explains, “Jon and Argyle’s plane landed at noon.”

“And Joyce took the open shift at Melvald’s, they close here soon and we’ll be able to eat after that.” Robin adds on., turning back toward the snow. 

“And you two didn’t bring your snowpants?”

“Wish I did,” Steve grumbles.

“I haven’t had snowpants since I was 11.”

Eddie taps the side of his nose at her, then pushes out the back door, “Well, I didn’t put these bags on my feet for nothin’.” He hops down off the cleared top step and nearly wipes out as his heels hit the completely snow-covered bottom step. 

“You’re gonna freeze in those jeans!”

“Hopper’s got a fireplace, don’t he?” Eddie calls back at Steve as the door squeaks shut behind him. “Never fear children, your beloved leader has arri—”

The cold wet smack of snow in his face (and mouth) stops him in his tracks.

The door squeaks open behind him immediately. “Dustin, I told you not in the face!”

Dustin, the little asshole, just laughs.

The snow drops from his face just as Steve finishes trudging through the snow to him, “You okay Eddie?”

“Stevie dear, care to join me in a shithead hunt? It’s happening later in the year than I thought, but,” he shrugs, stooping low for a swipe of snow and straightening up again, “better late than never, right?”

Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin tear off into the woods, abandoning their half-built snowman and calling commands at one another that have no hope in sticking.

“Mike! Go right! Will, left!”

“Hurry up and start making a wall!”

“You make the wall! El, help me make snowballs!”

El, still sitting up at the house and adding snow to an actually surprisingly well-crafted throne for Max (who’s already sitting in it, mind you), simply says, “No.”

Eddie’s fingers are already numb, but this perfectly shaped sphere of snow’s really gonna pack a punch.

“None of you shitheads better hit Max I swear to god!” Steve yells toward the boys.

A snowball smacks into Steve’s chest.

“Hey! Who said I was getting involved?”

Eddie barely contains his laugh, “Sorry Stevie, all’s fair in love and war.” Eddie shrugs, then turns on his heel and snaps his snowball into Lucas’ right shoulder.

He cries out, “AHH He got me!” and flops back into the drifts.

Steve starts spluttering again, “Holy shi— what the fuck?”

Wincing minutely, thinking he’s about to get his ass handed to him by Steve for hurting one of his goblins, Eddie turns back, “Sorry…?”

Steve just stares at him in apparent awe. He’s still got snow on his chest, his cheeks red with the cold… damn he’s pretty.

“Where in the hell did you learn to throw like that?”

Oh.

“Oh, uh..” Eddie just shrugs. “I’ve always been good at throwing things.”

A snowball smacks against the side of the house behind them.

“And you weren’t on the varsity team?? Baseball’s one of Hawkins’ worst performing teams, you could’ve made us great!”

Another plops pathetically into the snow at their feet. Three of the boys’ cackles echo up the hill.

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Yeah, no. I had better things to do than go to practice, let alone…” he shudders dramatically, “Games.” and Steve rolls his eyes, but smirks.

Someone finally manages to hit Eddie again, this time in the leg.

“Besides,” he says to Steve as he scoops up another handful of snow, “I prefer catching.”

Steve’s face blazes red when Eddie gives him a wink, then turns again and sends his snowball flying right into Mike’s stomach.

“Blugh,” he says, ever the eloquent one, as he doubles over.

“Ah! He’s coming down here!” Will cries as Eddie bounds down the hill after his last projectile.

The boys abandon their half-built wall and move deeper into the trees, and Eddie ducks behind it and the tree it’s built against.

He listens to their shouts, doing his best to locate them, when the squeaky crunch of snow comes from behind him.

“Will and Mike went right, Dustin and Lucas went back and to the left, who do you want to go after first? Lucas has the arm, of course, but Will is the stealthy one..”

A not-at-all-new rush of affection for Steve floods his chest with warmth, and Eddie cringes internally at how sappy that is.

“Stevie, you and your brain are my favorite things in the world right now.”

His cheeks flush again, “Shut up man, lets just take these assholes down a peg, huh?”

Eddie grins at him, and opens his mouth to say something when something cold and wet and solid smacks into the side of his face.

He and Steve whip their heads around back toward the house only to find El and Max grinning down at them.

“Aw shit.”

-

A scarce 10 minutes later, Eddie and Steve are scrambling up the hill yelling “Uncle, Uncle!”

Steve’s at the door first, holding it wide to usher Eddie in before him. Immediately, Eddie’s skin starts to prickle with the change in temperature.

“Jesus Christ, those kids are ruthless.” Eddie says as he strips his shoes off, flicking away the clumps of snow that have adhered to the ends of his laces.

“You’re telling me,” Steve shudders, then has to raise his arms to protect himself from the spray of water coming off Eddie as he shakes his head around like a dog. “Aw what, are you kidding me??”

Steve toes off his shoes as Eddie cackles, then he starts to nudge Eddie forward, shoo-ing him towards the fireplace.

“That wasn’t very smart of you, was it?” Robin remarks, not looking up from the paperback she’s reading.

“What’d that book ever do to you?” Eddie asks, affronted at the way she’s got the front cover curled back around the spine.

Robin opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by Steve, “Don’t start; Eddie, floor now.”

This time Eddie is the one cut off, “I’m not letting either of us get Hopper’s couch all wet. Now, sit.”

Steve pushes down on his shoulder and Eddie goes, plopping onto the floor in front of the fireplace.

He sheds his jacket, and joins Eddie on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, his toes toward the flames.

Sighing, Steve drops his head back into Robin’s lap and closes his eyes. “That was fun, huh?”

Eddie similarly drops his head back onto the couch behind him and listens to the kids screaming outside. Sounds like Max and El are in the thick of it now. Eddie smiles, “Yeah, it was.”

Next thing he knows, he’s startling awake to the telltale post-snapshot whine of a camera.

He blinks up at the blurry-but-getting-clearer form standing over him, “Rise and shine, dorks, food’s ready.” Robin says, grabbing the picture printing from the camera and giving it a couple good shakes. She wanders off then, calling “Hey Chief, do you have a marker?”

“Whas’ happen’n?” Steve groans from beside him, rubbing his eyes, frankly, way too hard.

“Food!” Dustin yells from somewhere behind the couch.

Eddie turns onto one knee and pushes himself off the floor with the help of the sagging couch, “Urrgh, that’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he groans to himself with the stretch of his back, “C’mon, Stevie, let’s scrounge up some sustenance.” 

He holds a hand out for Steve to take, hauls him up, and, under the guise of making sure he’s stable, holds onto Steve’s hand for just that much longer. 

“You good?”

“Great, Ed,” Steve smiles, “Let’s eat.” he gives Eddie’s hand a barely-there squeeze, then drops it, winding around the couch to the kitchen.

dividers from here! | buy me a coffee? ☕

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: New Authors!

Welcome to 2025! And as we say goodbye to 2024, this list is taking a moment to shout out new authors who ventured into 1D fic this year -- welcome aboard. It's truly amazing to me that 15 years since the band was formed, and 9 years since they as a group put out new music or performed together, new people are still joining the fold -- or dipping their toes into writing and posting fic, after hanging out in other spaces for a time. I'm sure plenty of people are joining via the solo music, but it still warms my heart to see this community that has meant so much to me continuing to grow and flourish. New fans are just as valid as old fans, and are absolutely essential for a healthy fandom ecosystem.

So with that said, here are 9 fics from people who started posting for the 1D fandom in 2024. And some of these writers have been incredibly prolific -- two of the fics listed are over 100k, and one of the authors has sixteen 1D fics already! Here's hoping we see more from them in 2025 and beyond -- please join me in giving them a warm welcome to the community!

Notorious by violetlilachyacinth (64021, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: period-typical homophobia, implied/referenced rape/non-con

1946. WWII has just ended, but there's still work to be done. To help bring Nazis to justice, U.S. government agent Harry Styles receives a new assignment: recruit Louis Tomlinson, the American son of a convicted German war criminal, as a spy. Neither knows the full extent of the task they're asked to complete nor the full impact they will have upon each other. The stakes are quite high.

Reccer says: This fic blew me away! It's an adaptation of a film, and I can imagine how much work the author did to make it their own. Harry and Louis' connection leapt off the page. And no spoilers, but I loved the ending.

freaky friday by tracksuitponytail (1700, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: dubious consent due to body swap

It’s Friday the 13th—a day like any other for Louis until he wakes up in the middle of the night... in his best friend's body.

Reccer says: SO well written! I enjoyed it so much, and it really cheered me up on Thanksgiving

Coffee and Confessions by Vyshv (676, General, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles)

A cozy coffee shop in New York City, with the warm aroma of roasted beans and the soft hum of chatter, two lost friends find each other.

Reccer says: This fic so so soft and lovely! I love the feelings it evoked

Hazelnut by BlackRose_Lilly28 (100, Not Rated, None)

Another drabble based on a twitter prompt. This time: "Hazelnut."

Reccer says: Fun to read, and very sweet!

here for the thrill by worldsofdreamers (3357, Explicit, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik)

niall wore a cowboy hat and he was just saving a horse

Reccer says: we needed a fic of niall in his lil cowboy hat and this fic DELIVERS. always love fics from this author. they’re very good writer and they are a good go to if you’re in need of a ziall fic.

All in the Golden Afternoon by leighllbealright (126028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed. Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic. Somehow, calico-cat-style, they forge a beautiful family from pieces that don't quite fit.

Reccer says: This series is one of my top 10 from 2024. Brilliant characters, gorgeous writing, Harry’s sweaty elbow-pits, everyone is a flower, naked treehouses and more.

Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 (73592, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage Harry and Louis are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

Reccer says: Exes to Lovers, Miscommunication, mpreg

everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (33000, Explicit, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Reccer says: The scene where Louis reads a Lincoln biography out loud to H in the bath? Swoonworthy!

The Handbasket Diaries by Hazel_tea_dreams (160326, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

London’s expensive and work’s a grind but everything is a little better when you have good mates who understand you. The narrow brick flat building in Brixton, home to Louis, Liam, and Zayn and affectionately referred to as The Handbasket, is more than a place to catch winks and reheat leftovers. When Harry stumbles into its midst (and Louis' lap) with flatmate Niall in tow on a particularly hot Pride weekend, none of the five of them will be fully prepared for the shenanigans, tomfoolery, true friendship, or steamy romance that will unfold over the year.

Reccer says: This was so fucking lovely. I binged it in two days—only put it down to scream about it on Bluesky (and sleep and like, essential stuff). The writing is witty and tender and, apparently, communication kink is my jam. This is the only fic (in recent memory) that I finished and then wanted to restart immediately.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Office Party Fics 🎉

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

SFW Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Inexperienced by me: Virgin!Reader has a secret no one expected, least of all Spencer. She’s a virgin… in every way.

Dancing with the Doctor by @smalltownbeautyqueen: After hearing the BAU's prom stories, Garcia decides to throw her own BAU prom.

Gift Exchange by @ssahopelessly: It’s time for the Secret Santa gift exchange at the BAU.

Secret Santa by @c-m-stuff: Reader and Spencer are together for Secret Santa.

Better for You by @incognit0slut: Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

Clue by @pathologicalreid: A fic in which Penelope hosts a NYE party with a murder mystery theme.

Mistletoe's for Two by @andiebeaword: At the annual Christmas party, Spencer gets caught under the mistletoe by the woman he didn’t want to kiss.

More ratings and pairings below!

NSFW (18+) Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Prom Night by @foxy-eva: After everyone shared their sad (or non-existent) prom stories, Penelope decided to host a BAU Prom, giving Spencer the perfect excuse to finally ask out Reader.

Funhouse Mirror by me: SSA Reader promised Spencer he’d be surprised by her costume of the Doctor for the Halloween Party. He definitely was.

Kiss ’n Tell by me: Reader gets drunk on a night out with the girls and accidentally mimics her boyfriend’s habit of oversharing.

Unhappy Holidays by @reiderwriter: Reader runs into Spencer at holiday celebrations four years in a row, including this NYE.

Always Bet on Black by @reidmotif: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.

Never Have I Ever by me: After a case involving kink culture, Spencer is assigned to judge the girls’ game of Never Have I Ever. Later, him and Reader compare scores.

Other/Fem!Reader (SFW)

Somewhere I Belong by @0and0its0doctor0: (Hotch) Hotch has a little liquid courage and breaks the rules.

When Snorter Does the Unexpected by @alluring-andrayav: (Derek) It's Derek's birthday, and he receives an unexpected gift.

Other Pairings & Gen Fic (SFW)

All is Bright by @masterwords: (Hotchgan) After a long series of failed dates, Hotch and Morgan finally come to their senses thanks to some well-placed mistletoe.

Talk of the Town by @/masterwords: (Hotchgan) Hotch has an invite to a Christmas party at the White House and he's asking Derek to be his plus one.

October by @gaelic-symphony: (Temily) The couple spends Halloween together.

November by @/gaelic-symphony: (Temily) The couple spends Thanksgiving together.

So Just Keep Kissing Me Under the Mistletoe [AO3] by @starzzyeyed : (Hotchreid) Spencer's dreading the BAU's christmas party for many reasons; not least because it means spending time off duty with his boss.

Happy Hotch Day by @codename-mom: (Platonic) Penelope wants to cheer her boss up as he still suffers from what Foyet did to him. The team prepares a surprise for him.

It's a Piece of Cake by @/codename-mom: (Platonic) Jack is turning six and Penelope wants to do something for the occasion.

The Sweater Case by @/codename-mom: (Platonic) The FBI organizes a gala with all the agency directors in the country. Hotch doesn't want to go.

Happy Reading!

[ivystoryweaver]

A Date, Then? - Steven Grant

Steven + Cup of tea + Holding hands + Reading

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Steven Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Notes: GN!reader celebrates Thanksgiving, tw food (but it's not a Thanksgiving day fic). Reader is SMITTEN

Word Count: 1k || for @vintagegirl01's request Steven Grant x reader enjoying a cup of tea and holding hands as they read together (Kinda like how Carl and Ellie from Up did in the Married Life Montage where they are in their designated seat reading their own book and holding hands). (I'm not posting your actual ask message yet bc I want to keep the Marc part in my inbox bc I love it & want to revisit it)

"Knock, knock," Steven sing-songs after you've clearly already opened the door. "Hiya."

"Steven, come in," you warmly greet your neighbor, noticing the stack of books tucked haphazardly under his arm. "You can set those anywhere."

"Right, thanks." He nods to your apron. "Cooking something?"

"Mm-hmm, turkey and all the trimmings for Thanksgiving."

"Right, sorry. Thanksgiving Day is tomorrow, innit? Sorry to disturb you." His cheeks flush as he grants you an apologetic wave.

"No, you're fine. I wanted to host a Friendsgiving or maybe a Neighbors-giving? But I only know you so far," you explain, leading him toward the kitchen. "Maybe next year, after I've met more people. I thought maybe you would like some leftovers, if nothing else."

You go on to explain that, aside from turkey, you're making yams with vegan marshmallows on top and using non-dairy items and vegan butter in the stuffing. You're also working on some green beans, cranberries, and of course, rolls.

"You have to work tomorrow, right?"

"Off at 5:30."

"Would you..." you bounce on your toes apprehensively, your tummy flip-flopping. "Would you like to come over for dinner? I understand if the turkey's a dealbreaker, no worries."

"Could I?" He breathlessly returns. "That would be so lovely, actually."

"Perfect," you beam at him, realizing you should have just asked him in the first place.

"So I guess I'll let you carry on," Steven says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shifting from foot to foot. He nods toward the stack of books he's returning to you. "Loved those. Thanks for the recommendations."

"You already finished them?" You gasp disbelievingly.

"Had some time on my hands."

"Do you have to go? You seem kind of in a hurry."

Steven pauses, confused. "I thought you were cooking."

"No, I was just doing some prep work. We're supposed to read tonight, right?"

"Right." His shoulders relax. "Unless you need help cooking?"

You assure Steven it's all right, putting on the kettle in the process. "Which tea? Blueberry black, white tropical or cinnamon plum?"

"Blueberry black," he decides, reaching with familiarity into the cupboard to retrieve his favorite cup and yours, along with saucers. You gather the spoons, sugar, non-dairy milk and honey.

"You're sure I'm not keeping you?" He politely asks one more time.

You stop in front of him, setting your tray aside. "Steven, it's Wednesday. Eight o'clock. Book time." You smile at him sweetly. "Highlight of my week."

Steven's dark eyes shine with hope and intrigue. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I love our reading dates."

Inching closer, his hands fidget, gaze flickering away from yours before he clears his throat. "So...a date, then?"

"I don't know." You ease toward him, wishing one of you knew how to make an actual move. "Is it?"

The kettle's whistle grants you the reprieve neither of you were actually seeking.

Finally, you settle into to cozy chairs in your living area. Sometimes you read together at Steven's Library - your affectionate nickname for his flat. But typically, your place is more organized and calm. That, and Steven loves your oversized twin chairs.

Since he picked the tea, you would pick the music. Then you grab your current books and settle in. You cozy up with your dark purple cable knit blanket, draped over the back of your chair. Steven tucks his "reading pillow" close to his chest - a mushroom shaped pillow he finds particularly amusing and very you.

Then comes the best part - the most distracting, delicious part of reading date night: when Steven reaches for his glasses. It's a procedure you have memorized. First, he tosses his curls away from where they fall over his eyes. Then he puts them on, biting his bottom lip, before stealing a glance at you.

Busted. Every time.

Your cheeks heat as your eyes dart back to the book you haven't really started reading. Steven opens his book, clears his throat, shifts in his seat and you glance over every time his finger reaches to turn the page. You notice every twitch of his jaw, every time his corded neck bobs when he swallows, every curl that tumbles across his forehead.

It suddenly occurs to you that not only do you have a crush on your neighbor, you're actually quite smitten.

"You alright, love?" His eyes meet yours before he nods down to your book. "Don't think you've read a thing."

"Oh...could you read out loud?" You quickly recover, closing your book and shrugging helplessly. "Must be going cross-eyed from reading those recipes."

"'Course I can." He beams. Steven likes to read to you, and you find the sound of his voice equally thrilling and calming.

Scooting his chair closer to you, he sets aside the mushroom pillow and moves his book into a good position for you both to see. Then he proceeds to make his non-fiction historical perspective sound like a Grimm's fairy tale.

You reach for your tea, realizing you should have brewed something herbal and calming because your heart flutters every time his arm brushes yours when he turns the page. The cadence of his voice lulls you under a spell somehow.

Placing your tea back down, you resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder or something equally embarrassing, but you want to somehow be closer to him, so you reach for the page next time he needs to turn it.

"I'll help," you whisper as your hands clumsily brush.

Steven almost drops the book, but quickly recovers, covering your hand with his own. "This alright?" Warm brown eyes lock onto yours.

You quickly nod, fighting your nervousness and squeezing his hand to let him know how badly you want this.

Eyes still fixed on yours, he pulls your joined hands to his chest, smiling at you adoringly. He raises the book to continue reading as you bring your opposite hand up to help him hold it in place.

Eventually your head does make its way down onto his shoulder.

You don't know what to say and maybe he doesn't either. But he's holding your hand and you're thankful for that.

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Steven Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

[dibidibidismynameisleeknow]

Friendsgiving

Pairing: Mingyu x (AFAB) Reader. Non-idol au

Synopsis: Just a little love story, reader and Mingyu are down bad for each other.

Characters: Mingyu, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, Jihoon, O/C Ava as Jihoon's girlfriend

Warnings: none, it's fluff, maybe a few innuendos and swears, nothing serious, Seungkwan is a menace. Despite there being no smut I still don't want minors interacting, it makes me comfortable, I'm an adult.

A/N: I was feeling inspired by S1 E9 of Friends. Fun fact, I don't decide who to write for, I let the fic tell me. The word count is almost 3,800. This is fiction.

~~~~~

🐶: Hey, any plans for Thanksgiving?

🌸: Hey Mingyu, no, I’m going to stay home this year

🐶: You’re going to be alone?

🌸: Yea, that’s okay, I’m sick of always traveling for the holidays

You figured that was the end of your conversation with Mingyu. You honestly didn’t mind not having plans for the holidays. The thought of extra time off work and not being around a bickering family for Thanksgiving was too enticing to pass up. Matter of fact, you were rather looking forward to it; maybe explore the city some more, see if any cute cafes or restaurants were open. The possibilities were endless. Your daydream of a peaceful Thanksgiving was interrupted by the ringing of your cell phone. Mingyu.

“You can’t be alone for Thanksgiving!” Mingyu refused to accept your reasoning. “As much as I would like to respect your boundaries. I am afraid that I cannot. I’m pretty sure that not being around people you care about during the holiday season is unconstitutional. I’d hate for you to have to pay a fine. Is that what you want? Do you really want to have to fight to pay the ticket like you did your parking ticket?”

You let out a snort, amused by Mingyu. “You put too much thought into that.” He really was too cute for his own good. At this point in your friendship, you’d do anything to protect him, to make sure no one hurt him. (Even though it was looking like you might be the one to break his heart).

“Mingyu, I’m tired. I just want to relax this year. Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”

“No. Stay here. Stay with me.” The line was filled with a moment of silence. You had never expected Mingyu to invite you over for a holiday. Was he cute? Yes. Do you enjoy every second you’re around him? Also yes. “This is our first Thanksgiving together. Please.”

“Why is this so important to you?” There was a slight possibility that you’d give into his plea. 

“You’re important to me. I’m thankful for our friendship. I want you here.”

Mingyu was honestly the sweetest person to grace this planet. The more you got to know him the more you could feel yourself falling for him more and more. At this point it was getting bad. The thought of Mingyu caring so much was enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you didn’t want to worry him, so you tried your best to hold them in. 

“I do a Friendsgiving every year. I’d really like you to be a part of it. There’s no travelling involved except maybe to my place, but that doesn’t count because you and I live pretty close to each other.”

“That does sound kind of nice actually. Thank you, Mingyu.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Text me the details.”

🐶: Saturday, come over whenever, it’s an all day thing

🌸: Do you need me to bring anything? Who am I going to meet?

🐶: Bring yourself and a positive attitude about spending the day with me! As for the guest list, I guess you’ll have to come and find out

🌸: Mingyu -.-

🐶: Fiiiiiiinneeeeee… Jihoon and his girlfriend are bringing dessert, Seungkwan is bringing drinks, and Wonwoo in typical Wonwoo fashion is bringing games. I’ve got the meat ;)

🌸: LOL I can’t wait to taste your meat Mingyu

🐶: I’m sure you’ll love it, you might even want seconds ;D

~~~~~

Mingyu ended up texting you Friday morning asking if you minded arriving extra early Saturday morning to help him prepare everything. Every year he underestimates how much work actually goes into hosting a holiday party and his social circle only seems to be growing. As important as Mingyu is to you, and as important as Friendsgiving is to him, you couldn’t imagine turning him down. You wanted this holiday to be perfect for him. If anyone deserved it, it was Mingyu.

🐶: Actually, do you mind spending the night instead?

🌸: Mingyu! That’s quite a jump in this friendship. Very risque, not demure

🐶: I’m worried about you going out in the holiday rush and I wouldn’t mind your help decorating, if you don’t mind.

🌸: Anything for you

“Oh, Kim Mingyu. How I don’t deserve you.”

~~~~~

Thankfully Friday night rolled around quickly and you were oh so grateful that Mingyu wanted you to spend the night… for convenience sake. Traffic was already wild and you could only imagine that it would get worse. After quickly packing an overnight bag you ordered dinner to have delivered to Mingyu’s place, you knew you two would be in for a long night, and day tomorrow. A token of your gratitude as well.

The evening with Mingyu went well, much better than you anticipated. The evening was spent decorating, prepping whatever food you could and overall just enjoying each other’s company. 

“This feels oddly domestic,” you noted, while placing a few decorations.

“It’s nice though, isn’t it?”

You hummed in agreement with Mingyu. “Anytime spent with you is wonderful.”

Even with you both busy preparing for tomorrow’s dinner, Mingyu still made sure to pull you in for a hug.  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You soaked in his warm embrace but you couldn’t help but long for more and to be held by Mingyu more often.

“We should hurry up and get this done. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” As much as you didn’t want that moment to ever end, your heart needed it to. 

~~~~~

“Hey, now that we’re done, did you want to hang out and watch a movie or something, or would you rather head to bed?”

“I kind of want to get to bed. Do you mind if I shower?”

Mingyu scrunched up his nose and looked you up and down. “Please do.”

The gentleman he is (aside from his earlier comment) led you to his bathroom and carried your overnight bag for you. “If you get tempted to use my soaps, help yourself. I know I smell irresistible.” 

“Get out of here,” you laughed. He does smell good, maybe I’ll have to take him up on that offer. 

You were just about to finish up your shower when you heard a faint knock on the bathroom door. 

“Come in! Sorry, did I take too long?”

“You’re fine. I just wanted to bring you a warm towel. I threw it in the dryer for you.”

“You’re amazing. Thank you.” 

The person who falls in love with Mingyu will have no idea how lucky they are. Hopefully they’ll treat him half as amazing as he treats you, and you’re just friends. Just a friendly self reminder. 

Stepping out of the bathroom and about to trail to the living room to get some sleep, you felt Mingyu’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you into his much taller, stronger and bigger frame.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Mingyu questions, almost as if you had done something wrong.

“The living room to sleep. Duh.”

He lowered his head closer to you, as if you couldn’t hear him clearly from his normal standing position, making your knees weak in the process. Still holding you, he spun the two of you around. “My bedroom is that way.”

“That was hot.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You could almost hear the smirk on his face, which means…

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“You sure did sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable. It’s my turn to shower, I’ll be there with you in a bit… if you want.”

“Yes, please. I mean sure, if that’s cool with you. It is your bed. I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”

Mingyu’s room was really nice, and his bed was huge and looked ridiculously comfy.  You just couldn’t wait to get in it, you knew the second your head hit the pillow you would be out for the night. It would be rude to fall asleep without saying goodnight, right? You thought to yourself. Climbing into Mingyu’s bed you realized you were right, it was comfy like you anticipated, and it smelled oddly like lavender, just like your own bed. You did happen to mention in passing to Mingyu that you purchased a lavender bed spray that was supposed to help you relax and fall asleep. It was possible that he decided to give it a try when he found out how much you liked it. You also noticed that off to the side of his bed, atop the nightstand was a white noise machine, similar to the one you have at home. Either you had more in common with Mingyu than you thought or he just paid really good attention to you. If the second option was the case, you didn’t realize how much you meant to Mingyu, which only made your heart race even more. 

“I didn’t know you liked white noise while you slept,” you noted as Mingyu climbed between the sheets.

“I don’t,” he replied before rolling over to turn it on. “I bought it because you were spending the night. The least I could do to thank you for your help was to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.”

“And the lavender spray?”

“For you.”

“Seriously, Mingyu. How are you still single?”

Mingyu rolled back over to face you and his arms found their way around you again and pulled you closer to him. Figuring it was okay, you rested your head on his chest. Just laying there listening to his heart beat. 

“I’m just waiting for someone very special and specific.”

You hummed in acknowledgement before starting to doze off in Mingyu’s arms.

~~~~~

The next morning you noticed the bed was significantly cooler than it was last night. Mingyu’s presence was significantly therapeutic and you found yourself missing it. Oh, this is bad.

“Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“I think that was the best I’ve ever slept. Thank you for doing all of that for me.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve the best.”

“I think I just might have to spend the night more often.”

“My door is always open for you, princess.” What’s with the pet names? You decided just to shrug it off, even though it made your head spin and your heart flutter. Oh, Kim Mingyu, you’re going to be the death of me.

~~~~~

In the kitchen you were greeted with the sight of a very domestic Mingyu, again. You watched and admired while he paced around the kitchen trying to throw everything together. There was still quite a bit to do for the evening but Mingyu couldn’t look happier. He was just glad that a few of his favourite people would be there to celebrate the holiday with him. Plus, he also looked adorable in his apron, so you wouldn’t complain one bit. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought of husband material Mingyu once or twice in the past. 

“Alright, how can I help?”

Thankful for your help, Mingyu pulled you in for yet another hug. Is this going to be a constant thing? My heart can’t take much more of this. At this point it was a miracle that Mingyu couldn’t feel your heart race with the proximity of your bodies, you were sure that your heart would beat out of your chest any moment now. What you failed to realize though was that Mingyu also didn’t want to let go, but the knocking on his apartment door demanded his attention. 

Slowly, one by one his friends started to trickle in, making sure to say hi and introduce themselves to you. They all seemed very friendly, and you really wanted to make a good impression.

“It’s so nice to have another girl in this friend group,” Jihoon’s girlfriend Ava gushed, coming in to hug you. She seemed very sweet, you could see yourself turning into good friends. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you!”

You glanced from Ava to Mingyu, back to her, before glancing back to ask Mingyu, “you talk about me?”

“Talk about you? He doesn’t shut up about you.” Ava answered for him.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jihoon panicked, pulling Ava off of you. “Let’s go help Wonwoo and Seungkwan set things up.”

Thinking they were out of earshot Ava tried to whisper to Jihoon. “Wow, Mingyu wasn’t lying when he said she’s really pretty.” It didn’t turn out that way though, she might as well have yelled it. 

“You think I’m pretty?” you teased.

“You have a mirror, don’t you?” For the first time since you met Mingyu, you finally caught the blush creeping up on his cheeks and his red ears. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute Mingyu looked when he was acting shy. 

“Let’s go play some games. I’ve got asses to kick.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

~~~~~

While Sackboy was a game that called for teamwork, Seungkwan and Mingyu seemed to have formed an alliance to try and sabotage you. Ava caught on pretty quickly and managed to talk Jihoon on backing you up against them. It involved a lot of throwing each other’s character off the edge and losing lives and slapping each other…in the game. Multiple levels had to be restarted. Thankfully Wonwoo got the boys to start playing properly so the night could go on, and you often got to the finish line first. Never against Wonwoo though, you knew he’d probably get to the finish line first, but your ego was well fed after coming first against Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan huffed out in annoyance, “Mingyu, your girlfriend cheats!”

“She’s not my -”

“Maybe you just suck,” you fired back. 

You caught Wonwoo leaning in to tell Mingyu, “she’s cool. I like her.” At least one of his friends tried to be subtle. But you missed Mingyu saying back, “yea, I like her too.”

Things started to die down a little bit more as dinner rolled around, but with Seungkwan’s competitive streak you all knew the peacefulness would be short-lived. Almost as if he could read everyone’s mind, Monopoly was dropped onto the coffee table.

“Alright, I want a rematch.”

Trying to remain calm, Jihoon rubbed his temples, almost as if Seungkwan pained him. “Dude, you’re embarrassing yourself. Just take the loss.”

“Yeah,” Ava whined. “We like her, don’t scare her off.” 

Mingyu was getting ready to step in and have Seungkwan back off and leave you alone but he found your hand on his knee enough to stop him.

“If he wants to lose, let him. Just know Seungkwan, this game takes a while so be prepared to suffer.”

Mingyu couldn’t help but enjoy that you and his friends seemed to be getting along so well. He also really enjoyed watching you absolutely destroy Seungkwan every chance you got. 

“My money is on Seungkwan,” Wonwoo chimed in as you and Seungkwan started to set up the game. 

“Thank you. I’m glad that someone believes in me.”

“My money is on you losing,” Wonwoo clarified. Maybe everyone else also enjoyed how things were going between you and Seungkwan. Mingyu didn’t realize that he stuck two of the most competitive people in a room together. 

Jihoon was the first to pull out his wallet. “Alright, I’m in.”

Seungkwan let out a groan of defeat as he fell backwards onto the floor. Jihoon used this sulking episode as an opportunity to divide the winnings amongst everyone that bet on you instead of Seungkwan. Which was everyone. 

~~~~~

The night had turned out amazing, as you expected. You found yourself really enjoying yourself and your new found friends. It was much nicer than spending the holiday at your own apartment and it was a nice change from your regular holiday plans. Which you made sure to tell Mingyu, you really couldn’t be more grateful that you had been so important to be included in this little tradition.

“Ava, did you make this pie?” you asked. “This is absolutely amazing.”

She blushed at the praise. It really amused you how someone could go from being so bold one minute to so shy and quiet the next.

Mingyu figured it was probably time to get involved with the conversations. He had been rather quiet the past little while just taking in his favourite people, and watching to make sure you were having a good time. “We’re convinced that’s the reason Jihoon is dating her.”

Jihoon just shrugged at his friend’s accusation. “Who doesn’t love free dessert?”

“You really like it?” Baked goods were Ava’s love language and it meant a lot to her when people could bond over good food. 

“I love it! Seriously, I want to climb inside and live in this pie. I think I want to marry the pie.”

This time Wonwoo was not so subtle with his next comment, “damn Mingyu, you’ve got some competition.”

At this point Mingyu gave up. There was no possible way that you didn’t know about his feelings for you. He wanted his friends' help on how to bring it up and what to say, but he didn’t expect it to turn out like this. 

“Yeah, I’m actually kind of jealous of the attention that pie is getting.”

Seungkwan jumped on the opportunity of embarrassing Mingyu. “It’s getting more attention than you.” 

“Seungkwan, be nice or I’ll kick your ass at another stupid game again,” you threatened. Mingyu couldn’t be more thankful that you were deflecting the situation away from him and not making him feel even more embarrassed and awkward than he already was.

The day started to fade bringing Friendsgiving to an end. It seemed like a good time to start cleaning up and gathering your belongings, you wanted to get home and rest a little bit before it got too late. 

“Are you leaving?” Mingyu asked, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

“Shortly, yeah. I just wanted to help get things cleaned up.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to leave,” he pouted. 

“What about me?”

“No, Seungkwan, I definitely want you to leave.”

“I feel like you’re picking favourites and it’s not me.”

Mingyu tried his hardest to get his friends to leave, but his friends seemed to sense his wish of wanting to be alone and spend more time with you that they took their time leaving. Except Jihoon, he was glad to finally be heading home and had to pull Ava off of you. 

“Mingyu give me her number, and don’t fuck this up.” On the bright side, at least his friends approved of you. But the big picture: did YOU approve of Mingyu? Could he be what you deserved? What you wanted?

Seungkwan said his goodbyes before gently (but purposely) knocking you into Mingyu, forcing him to catch you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you under the mistletoe.”

“The what?” you glanced up and there it was, a very out of place decoration. “That’s the wrong holiday,” you noted, almost as if you were unsure. But you did know for a fact that neither you nor Mingyu put that decoration up. 

“I thought you two could use the push.”

Wonwoo could see Seungkwan’s life flash before his eyes, if Mingyu’s facial expression was anything to go off of.  “Dude, you better start running.” Seungkwan almost didn’t want to believe Wonwoo, but Jihoon did, and pulled their friend away, leaving Wonwoo behind with you and Mingyu. “I’m so sorry about him. I hope you stick around. It was lovely meeting you.”

You exchanged your goodbye with Wonwoo before turning back to Mingyu. Poor Mingyu, cheeks tinted red, so embarrassed and worried that his friends scared you and that he might lose you after his feelings were aired out so blatantly. This evening was supposed to be fun and relaxing, his feelings weren’t meant to be a part of it. He didn’t want to put you on the spot like that, it wasn’t his reason for inviting you over, he honestly just wanted you around. When he asked his friends on how he should go about telling you his feelings he didn’t mean that exact day, or even a day when they were around. Actually, they most definitely were not supposed to be there when he confessed his feelings. But here he is, forced to come out and say something. Mingyu’s trance was disrupted when he felt your hands work their way to the nape of his neck, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you.

“I lost you there for a second.”

“I’m so sorry about all of this, this is not what I expected. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Are you mad? Let me grab your bag and I can walk you to your car.” Mingyu stopped in his tracks when he heard you quietly say,

“I would have kissed you without the mistletoe.”

“You what?!”

“Kiss her! Kiss her!” Seungkwan and Ava chanted from down the hall. Right. Mingyu was too wrapped up in his own existential crisis and didn’t make it back into his apartment. He muttered a quick “assholes” before pulling you back into the apartment, and making sure the door was locked and inaccessible from his nosey friends. 

“So, rumour has it, you have a crush on me?”

“Fuck it,” Mingyu sighed. “Yeah, I do. I have for a while actually. You were not supposed to find out this way.” You tried to reassure Mingyu that it was really okay, and figured he must have forgotten what you said previously about the mistletoe.

“Mingyu, I like you too, so much. You’re the most amazing person I know… as for the mistletoe.” you brought his attention back to the decoration. “We can’t break tradition, can we now?”

Mingyu watched as you stood up on your tiptoes closing the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, he hadn’t ever expected it to happen, but was relieved when you seemed to have everything under control. Despite trying to remain calm, cool and collected, nothing could have prepared him for what your lips on his would feel like. He couldn’t help the smile that came across his face and finally gained the confidence to return your affection back. When he realized you weren’t going anywhere he pulled you closer, silently hoping this moment wouldn’t end. Things only intensified when you ran your hands up his side and across his chest before stopping your hands on either side of his face and pulling away as Mingyu’s phone went off with a text notification.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mingyu.”

Seungkwan > did you kiss her yet?

Ava > how was it?!

    > also, we heard you, there’s nothing wrong with us

Wonwoo > except EVERYTHING

Jihoon > freaks

> I was talking about Ava and Seungkwan by the way

Ava > rude, enjoy sleeping on the couch

    > add her to the group chat

Mingyu chuckled and showed you the conversation, a silent ask if you wanted to be a part of that mess. You handed Mingyu your phone, you couldn’t be happier to be welcomed into the group.

“Oh no, what did I get myself into?” you joked.

[tangerinesgirl]

Fowl Play

Chapter 1

Fem!Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: DEAD DOVE, dark fic, non con, pet names, reader in saw trap, violence, no smut (yet), stockholm syndrome

Summary: Eric is back and has enlisted the help of Mark to resume where he left off. Killing people involved in the Black Friday massacre with rigged jigsaw traps.

Notes: Set after the events of Saw 3D and Thanksgiving, no one knows John Carver's identity. I also came up with my original Saw trap for this one which was fun. Currently writing chapter two where things get steamier. I hope you enjoy!

Edit: This fic has now been discontinued, thanks everyone for your continued support.

You jump awake at the sounds of gears churning, unsure what is going on or how exactly you ended up here. You instantly recognise the abandoned Rightmart, the place where all those people were killed a few years ago on Black Friday. The place tried to reopen a few times but it was doomed since that night, people would never forget... you would never forget. You look down and see that you’re sitting on something resembling a pommel horse, with two massive steel black boots on both feet, forcing you into place, but also forcing your weight down after each churn of the cogs. Your hands are also tied behind your back with police handcuffs.

Suddenly you remember all the newspaper articles recently saying that John Carver was back, despite dying in a fire a year ago, the guy behind the Thanksgiving killings on a revenge mission. You just so happened to be in the store on that Black Friday night, but you hid in the clothing section, waiting for it to pass over, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind kill anyone! Why you? 

The cogs start turning faster, and you can feel some of your bones starting to shift and you start to scream and panic. Looking down, you notice the machinery could be in arms reach. You contort yourself to try and wedge the handcuffs in the middle of a cog and *SNAP* they break in half.

You immediately bring your hands up to the seat to try and shift your weight onto them, to give your hips a break. You try to tip the horse over with your weight, but it’s drilled to the floor. You put on a brave face and decide try and break the machinery somehow. You bend back down and you swear you can hear the cogs moving faster again. You panic and decide to just lodge your left hand in the machinery and hope for the best. The thick steel part of the handcuff on your wrist jams a cog for long enough for you to reach with your other hand to unscrew it.

You groan as the blood rushes to your head as you remove the wheel, sitting back up. You let out a deep sigh, thinking you’ve escaped and stopped the machine, but to your surprise, it keeps going. You panic again and start to smash at the metal boots with all your strength to free yourself. The sweat and the blood from your hand made freeing your foot from the first boot surprisingly easy as it just slips out. As you dented the metal of the boot, the cog also broke, so you pick up the boot, swing yourself over, and start smashing the other boot with it. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally break loose and collapse to the floor, letting out a guttural scream as you realise you’ve narrowly avoided death. You realise you don’t have time to sit and cry about it, and need to move to safety. As you stand, your hips struggle to realign themselves, are they broken? Tough shit. Your wrist is still bleeding out but you can worry about that later, you’re more concerned how you’re going to walk out of here.

You wobble quickly through the abandoned store to the main exit. Locked. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. You jump as you hear a fire exit opening from behind you, and dash to the same clothes aisle you hid that Black Friday night. 

“Clever girl”.

Your eyes widen as you realise you know the voice. The town Sheriff. You’ve always had a little crush on him, even if he did try to literally crush you in return just now. Under normal circumstances, if he had called you a clever girl, you would have been turned on. You can hear his footsteps pacing the empty store. He picks up something off the ground, every urge of your body is telling you to turn around and see what it is, but you don’t. You sit solid in fear, covering your mouth to try and regulate your breathing. You can hear him chuckle slightly, how can he laugh seeing you like this? The sick bastard.

“Shame you weren’t clever enough to cover your tracks”.

You look down and see the blood from your wrist leading directly to your hiding spot. You grab a jumper from a hanger and quickly bandage your hand, and quietly get up to find another exit. Luckily it’s pretty dark, and you have no shoes on, so you can cover the noise from your walking pretty well. You stick closely to the wall, trying to feel for another exit, what little light you had disappearing the further back into the shop you went. You feel a door handle, so you slowly and quietly open it. You try to peer inside when suddenly you feel a rush of pain to your face, sending you a few steps backwards, straight into Sheriff Newlon, wielding an axe. He puts his arms around your waist, using the axe to lift you up off the floor as you kick and scream trying to free yourself. 

“Aw did you really think I would go this alone after the last time? Cute.”

As the Sheriff carries you back the way you came, you can see the face of his accomplice as the security lights outside occasionally flicker to his face. It’s a new detective on the police force, you’ve seen him around before. Then it dawns on you. It’s the guy who was proven to be the jigsaw killer all those years ago. Mark Hoffman. How did no one see this? Maybe they did, and the whole police force is in on this operation. A grim thought. But you’re speculating here. 

The Sheriff slams you back on the floor in the room you just escaped from. You try to get up but he threatens you with the axe, hovering very close to your neck. 

“Don’t even think about it princess”.

Damn it, why does he use pet names for you like this? Your body betrays you as his voice makes you shiver. The Stockholm Syndrome isn’t helping the fact that you actually like this guy in real life.

“You know it’s a shame your contraption didn’t break her hips, Mark”, the Sheriff's gaze still fixed on you.

The Detective speaks up, “You’re right, we will just have to break them another way”.

He bends down to look into your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“You look very pretty when you cry”. 

You spit on his face, making him flinch slightly. He looks back at you and smiles. 

“I think we can have a little fun with this one”, he says, addressing the Sheriff.

[iphyslitterator]

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1. 650 notes - Nov 28 2024

Did some very cursory research, and it turns out having mental health issues on your record can seriously complicate...

I'm thrilled this is my top post. First of all, it was very funny to ruin everyone's day on Thanksgiving. But mostly I think it was a useful and important topic to introduce to the fandom ecosystem, especially after some back-and-forth with the venerable @bekolxeram.

2. 495 notes - Jun 27 2024

Picture, if you will, Buck and Tommy's pre-teen daughter sitting Tommy down and asking how he knew he was gay. And he takes a...

I love this post, but it did age badly 😕 Buck's answer is going to be complicated after all.

3. 466 notes - Aug 26 2024

sharing my vision of chimney dragging tommy into a comedy b plot and rambling to him at 6 in the morning until tommy says...

I was surprised this did so well, but the people crave Chim & Tommy.

4. 437 notes - Aug 13 2024

when I'm feeling down, I like to imagine early s8 Tommy calling Buck and saying, listen, I know it's your night with Eddie, but...

Man, remember over the summer when people thought Eddie would have a serious mental health struggle, and Buck (and Tommy) would be supporting him, and Buck & Eddie & Tommy would have to renegotiate their dynamic? I miss that.

5. 394 notes - May 7 2024

One of my favorite things about 7x06 Bucktommy is that at no point are they trying to impress each other. Buck at the bachelor...

Earliest post on the list. Solid meta, but the most notable part is the footnote from someone blissfully unaware of Henleygate.

6. 388 notes - Sep 16 2024

tommy with a nonstop eight-minute rant about last night's baseball game while he's getting ready in the morning, mostly yelled...

I love this 😭

7. 380 notes - Aug 29 2024

"Hi!" Buck calls out when he hears the door open from where he's sprawled sideways on Tommy's couch, engrossed in a book on the...

This was supposed to be a little thing, but it got a bit longer than I expected, so I ended up posting it on AO3 - my first official fic since November 2020 🥰 Part of a genre, but as far as I know no one had done it with a couch.

8. 342 notes - Jun 4 2024

i just want to see eddie treating a severely injured buck while tommy struggles to keep him conscious and following...

Love this post + equally love these additions from @dadvans and @zeraparker (the end of the second one haunts me).

9. 322 notes - May 17 2024

oh my god he's walking on his knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting

The only non-Bucktommy post on the list (it's Bobby in Step Nine). Post "Wild Geese" during a commercial break = easy website.

10. 288 notes - Nov 28 2024

Flame

Day 1 of 118 Daily Drabble, and my most popular because it turned into a spontaneous collaboration with @peppermintquartz. I was SO excited to write back and forth and see people get invested; nothing like that had ever happened to me! I also liked getting the notifications (despite writing significantly less lol 🤭 hey, there were no rules). The original drabble is sad, but after five installments we got to a happy ending.

tagging @espressotonicc @jamieroyjamieroy @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @bucksdaffy @tommykinard217 and the people tagged above