#none of my family or friends can help at all which is okay

[trashbaget]

*

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖�� as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Seasonal Delights Bingo: fall vibes | Row One-One | soft kisses | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Fairytale Bingo | Row One-Three | Goddess of marriage | @fairytalebingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter ��� you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

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[bvidzsoo]

♡ ATEEZ as dads ♡

author: bvidzsoo

pairing: ot8 x reader

tw: none

word count: 3.3k

genre: established relationships, parents, blurbs/scenarios

rating: sfw

summary: have you ever tried envisioning Ateez as fathers? well, this is my take on the subject ^^ a collective of short and cute drabbles bellow the cut

a/n: hello, my lovelies, this was a cute little request and despite not taking requests (just wanted to clear that up), today is my birthday and I decided to make this my little gift for you all! ^^ also, anonie, I hope this is satisfying and close to how you imagined it to be! divider

🐿️Hongjoong

☆ Okay, so, despite all the boomer vibes I get from Hongjoong he'd still be the coolest dad, like?! All of your kid's friends would love him because he's just the type of father that not only shows up for his child but also like partakes in like absolutely everything?! Oh, you have an event at school where you have to bring one parent? Yup, Hongjoong is going (dressed to the nines, might I add, while also wearing something matching with his kid) and he's also going to be cheering you on loudly from the sidelines (to the point the other parents will be side-eyeing him, but that's fine, he doesn't care). And like, he's also the type of dad to sneak inside his kid's room when it's completely dark and then scare the living shit out of them as he starts making monster-like sounds, the kid is terrified okay, but soon they are giggling and wrestling, and the child will go to sleep rather fast because Hongjoong managed to wear them out. But Hongjoong is also the type of father who wants to capture everything so he always has his camera with him and he takes a lot of pictures, okay, and he also makes albums at the end of each year because his kid is growing and he doesn't want to miss even a second (are you sobbing? I would be if I had a dad like him).

☆ And Hongjoong is also the type of father to plan trips mostly in nature, where you can go on a hike and just forget about the ruckus in the city, where you can connect with nature and just be in the moment. He would definitely pick a colour scheme or one clothing item that would be matching for all the family members because it's cute and because he's infinitely proud and eager to show off his kid(s) and wife. He cracks jokes (even if they are your typical dad jokes), and he makes sure his kid(s) feel seen and heard. He tries not to pressure them and lets them explore the world while remaining a guide they can always rely on.

🐰Seonghwa

♡ Yup, trust this man to get up before his wife and child to make them breakfast and something to pack for later when they get hungry, he's that type of guy, yeah. We know he's soft-spoken, and I see him as the type of dad who is very patient with his kid(s) and who pays a lot of attention to them to make sure he truly understands them. I feel like Seonghwa would organize "chill nights" where you all cosy up on the couch and pick a movie (which is age-appropriate, obviously) and he lets you eat excessive popcorn because he knows his wife isn't keen on their kid(s) eating junk food.

♡ Also, I get the feeling that holidays would be big at the Park residence. Like, he'd make sure everything is perfect because he'd be also organizing big ass get-togethers where both sides of the family are coming over for lunch or dinner. And I think he'd also love Christmas because he could spoil his family without getting complaints or reprimands, so yeah, he'd make a big deal out of it each.time. He'd help cook and bake and clean, he'd probably do more of that, and he'd disappear for hours because he was looking for the perfect gifts (and trust that each person will get at least three items if not more). I also think Seonghwa would check on his kid(s) anytime he wakes up in the middle of the night, and he'd certainly tuck them in each time, pressing a kiss to their forehead(s). He'd be very gentle and soft and the kid(s) would grow up in a safe space where they'd know they can freely speak and express their likes and dislikes because their parents will be supportive no matter what.

🐶Yunho

❀ This man is a giant, we know that too well, so honestly, piggybacks and him letting his kid(s) sit on his shoulders while they are out and about would be routine at this point. Like, even if his kid wouldn't ask to be carried, Yunho would be sweeping them off their feet and letting them do whatever as he carried them around. I feel like he'd also quite often get cute aggression, so he'd definitely be tackling them (in a gentle and non-endangering way) to press a dozen kisses against their cheeks, and I think he'd also love tickling them because of their cute laughter! (I'm struggling rn, who's getting cute aggression now??) Anyways, I have a feeling that if his kid(s) somehow manages to hurt themselves (like they fall and scrape their knees or hands) Yunho would rush to their side and hold them and sweet talk to them with a pout on his lips and sad eyes, trying to lighten their mood while he tells them that everything will be okay.

❀ I feel like Yunho is the type to get emotional over, perhaps, non-trivial things that concern his kids. Their tooth fell out and the Toothfairy is coming? Yup, a tear is rolling down his cheek because "Omg, the kid is getting bigger!", also you know that thing where they make you stand against the wall (or edge of the door) to measure your height while you're still growing? Yeah, I feel like Yunho would have to take a walk around the house after measuring his kid's height in order to will the tears away because the kid is two centimetres taller than he was a month ago and he “can't do this, why are they growing so quickly?!” Yunho is definitely the type of father who wakes up his kid(s) in the morning by brushing their hair aside and whispering to them softly, coaxing them out of their sleep. He'd also be always smiling, his kid(s) wouldn't know what Yunho's serious face looks like because he'd never looked at them like that. He'd be cracking jokes and making his kid(s) laugh, but he'd also listen to them if they came to him for advice, and I feel like he's great at reading people's moods, so he'd know when to offer them space or annoy them until the kid(s) get fed up with him and give in to him wanting to kick a ball or something.

🦄Yeosang

 🜲 Well, let's be honest, with a dad like Yeosang, I feel like the kid(s) would be considered a little peculiar? But like in a very positive sense of the word because have you seen Yeosang's humour? Immaculate, dare I say, and his kid(s) have definitely inherited that from their dad. I feel like Yeosang is generally a calm and quiet person, but when it comes to his kid(s) he gets like hyper because he wants to do everything they ask him to, and he'll talk and talk until his kid(s) are pressing their tiny hands against his mouth to make him shut up. I think Yeosang would love to listen to his kid(s) stories, like "Yes, tell me all about your mate from kindergarten and his rescued grasshopper and also, what do you mean you ate a spider, child?! Spiders are not for eating!!" Yeah, I feel like Yeosang would forget his kid(s) at daycare at least once or twice (only at the beginning, I promise, like my dad forgot me there once: TMI). So what I was saying is, that because Yeosang loves hearing his kid(s)' stories, he will be reacting with grand gestures and everything and it will only amuse his child, because they'd get even more excited to tell him more about his day.

 🜲 Also, I feel like while his kid is a baby and can't speak, he'd blabber back to them and constantly poke their tummy "Because babies are so cute, I think I'm going to combust", and he'd definitely rush up to his wife with the baby in his arms to show off that they have reached new levels of communication, and it'd surprise his wife because the two are now blabbering to each other and the baby is laughing and Yeosang is grinning so wide his cheeks are hurting. I think Yeosang would love to take the baby out on walks as the sun is setting (assuming they are in Seoul) and watch the sunset as the sun disappears behind the Han River, and he'd definitely snap pictures with the baby where his face isn't fully showing just so that he can post it, and then he'd take selfies and send them to the family's group chat. I think Yeosang would be the type of father who never shuts up about their kid (even to his own parents) and tries to be the best father, super supportive and, not going to lie, he'd probably spoil them too because he wants to give them everything they want and need. He'd be always there for them, even if just from the sidelines, and if there were a contest for proudest father of the year, Yeosang would surely win it!

🐱San

❀ The most important question here is, who's the baby? Okay, I'm joking but San would definitely sleep facing the baby, eyes watery because he still cannot believe that's his child and that child is going to grow up by his side and he's created a tiny life that will turn into a grown person one day and he cannot stop it just go with the flow. So yes, San would be the emotional type of father, but not to the extent that it becomes uncomfortable lol. He has strong principals/morals so he'll definitely teach his child the views he has of the world and life itself, but he'd make sure to leave space for his kid(s)' own opinions and views, so that they can create their own believes while taking an example out of their father. We all know San's background, so I think he'd definitely sign up his kid(s) to Taekwondo or another similar sport, mostly because he wants them to know how to defend themselves, but also because it teaches them discipline.

❀ San's kid(s)' will be the politest and most well-behaved you'll ever see, I think they'd rarely cry and stick close to their parents because they know they are safe and comforting. San would have a close and good bond with his kid(s), he'd take them places and let them explore the world. Given that San loves amusement parks so much, I'm sure he'd make it a weekly program to take them there, trying out rides that were appropriate for their ages, laughing all day and eating whatever their tummies (and hearts) desired. I think San would only give his kid(s)' the best, so yes, they'll go to the best school, they'll only wear the best clothes, and they'll only eat healthy food (with exceptions, ofc, he's no tyrant to deny a good hamburger and fries), but he wouldn't spoil his kid(s) to the point they become brats. Also, I feel like San would love it if his children would be on good terms with his best friend's kids, so yup, expect a lot of get-togethers and trips with the two/three (or eight lmao) families, which would be a hustle to every outsider lol. So, all in all, San would be strict but so very loving, he'd do his best to raise his kids well-mannered and humble (just like him bfr) and he'd make sure that he was a strong pillar they could always lean on and count on. (why am I getting emotional too...?)

🐣Mingi

 🜲 *sigh*, where do I begin??? Bickering, lots of it, because "What do you mean you don't like mashed potatoes but you'll eat french fries?!!! They are the same, child, just eat it and stop whining!!" oh, and also, "What do you mean you want to go party, it's 11 pm and you're only seventeen?!" (if you've seen 10 Things I Hate About You, just picture the girls' dad when he makes Bianca wear that pregnancy vest before going out LMAO). So, yes, lots of nagging too, I guess, but it's actually well-intended and oh so loving!! Everyone thinks Mingi is intimidating (bfr besties) and I think his kid(s)' friends would be intimidated at first sight, but then Mingi invites them inside and goes to the kitchen to fetch them some snacks, and he accidentally knocks into the chair or table and he swears loudly and the kids start giggling because swearing is an adult thing still and it's funny, and then Mingi appears in the doorway and he's scowling, but he flushes when he realizes the kids heard him, so he tries to play it off but really, he looks like a clown so his child's friends instantly take a liking to him!

 🜲 You can't contradict me on this, but I feel like if his kid started crying over something, Mingi would stare at them blankly before starting to (fake) cry too and this often leads to 2 outcomes: 1. the kid stops crying and looks at him like Mingi's crazy (judgingly) & 2. the kid starts crying harder because they know Mingi is making fun of them, and it makes Mingi panic, so now he's cradling them to his chest and trying to shush them and calm them down, because "If the wife hears, we're both dead kid, got it???" I think Mingi would be his kid's best friend before being their father, if you get what I mean? Like, sure, he'll scold them and put them in their place if needed, but he'll totally gossip with them and bring them a sandwich just so he can lounge around in their room (because Mingi won't admit it, but the kid is getting bigger and he feels like he's running out of time and that's terrifying), and he'll tell them things that perhaps should've been better if he kept it to himself. I think he'd always be in front of his kid(s)' school (no matter the age) after classes to pick them up, and he'd definitely do carpool karaoke on their way home, only running one red light (excuse the man, he's excited or something). So yeah, Mingi would be caring and careful with his kid(s), attentive and there for them, but he'd show them that just because he's their father it doesn't mean they aren't equal (most of the time), and they don't have to hide anything from him, really. (Just maybe the fact that they didn't come home last night at the agreed-upon hour, oops~)

🦊Wooyoung

♡ Loud, both of them, loud. But it's fine, because if they are loud at least the wife knows they are enjoying themselves. Because when it becomes quiet, that's when you just know they are up to no good. Like that one time when you were working from home and their giggling and screeching stopped, prompting you to check up on them, only to find your kid(s)' hair drenched in some neon-pink colour which is, ofc, washable, your makeup strewn all over the floor because Wooyoung was feeling funny and decided to paint their faces (it looked terrible, but you said nothing). Also, menaces, both of them, to the point they'd wear matching Halloween costumes and freak out the whole street as they'd randomly start chasing both children and adults (they are either dressed as Chucky or Ghostface, there's no in-between). All of that put together, however, Wooyoung would be always by his kid(s)' side if he could, and he'd be teaching them everything about the world. He'd read to them a lot and he'd watch a lot of History and National Geography with them lol.

♡ And yes, we know Wooyoung is a very affectionate person and that he likes to show his love physically, so there would be a lot of kisses, cuddles, hugs and tickles. Wooyoung would love to carry his kid(s) in his arms while they were still that age, holding their small heads against his chest, pointing out things to them as he explained everything the baby was curious about. I feel like Wooyoung would also take the family to the seaside a lot, he'd love to go inside the sea and play around by splashing each other, accidentally getting swept up by a wave, making his kid(s) laugh as their father struggled to find his footing again. And I'm pretty sure Wooyoung would constantly feed his kid(s) while they were eating, putting more and more food in their plate despite it being almost full already, and no matter what age, Wooyoung will coo at his kid(s) because they will always be his babies! (*cue the sobbing*) And I am sure Wooyoung would be his kid(s) safe haven, someone whose arms are always wide open and ready to comfort or just to hold them, remind them that he's always there for them. Wooyoung would be the type of father to encourage his kids, always, teaching them that the world's opinion about them never mattered and never will, that they should always chase their own dreams and live a happy and fulfilled life. And, similar to Hongjoong, his camera's SD card would be filled with so many memories, ah…

🐻Jongho

☆ A complete jokester, sneaky and the type of father to first laugh when their kid falls before going over to pick them up. I feel like the kid wouldn't be able to tell if their father is their worst enemy or best friend at first, because Jongho isn't afraid to scrutinize them and judge them down to the bone, but the next second the man is sticking his tongue out and cracking a joke, and the child is confused because why can't their father just pick one mood for five minutes at least? I think Jongho would love to antagonize his children with dad jokes, he's aware they are terrible but seeing the look on his children's faces is always worth it. Imagine Jongho trolling his kids any chance he gets, as an excuse for preparing them for life (we all know he just likes playing with them), and he'd be tapping their shoulders and hiding behind a tree or something, and he'd run after them down the dark hallway, making scary noises, and he'd randomly open their doors and just stand there with a blank face until his kid(s) are either scared or screaming at him to get out.

☆ I don't know why, but, I have to mention cooking. I'm pretty sure he'd gather up the family at least thrice a week, and their evening would consist of picking a recipe and making it together while some sports plays on the TV and the parents are sipping on wine while the children can have orange juice or maybe chocolate milk. I also think he'd often buy his kid(s) flowers, no matter the gender because everyone deserves flowers, and he'd probably buy them chocolate too because (guess what?) he secretly eats them and blames it on his wife so the children don't pester him about the missing chocolate lol. I feel like Jongho would raise his kids to be smart and logical, always finding solutions and not fearing the unknown (I mean, if your father chases you down a dark corridor, who fears ghosts anymore, no??) and because he's a little sneaky shit, of course, his children will end up like him too ("it's okay to cheat when playing board games", would say Jongho but also whine for an hour if he found out one of the family member's did cheat, acting as if he didn't also). Jongho would be their best pall but also their role model, he'd raise his children to be outstanding and determined, unafraid to go after what they want. I know he'd support their hobbies and always encourage them to try out new things. He'd love quiet evenings where he can hear his kid(s) in their room(s) giggling and laughing about whatever, calling him to keep them company before it's time for bed. <3

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[churipu]

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[peachysunrize]

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: none! Fluff, angst, tension! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 5.4k+

A/n: so so sorry for the delay… unfortunately I’m gonna be awfully busy this week so the next chapter might be also delayed😭 buttttttt hopefully this chapter will make up for it! Reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

Taglist: if you wanna be tagged in the future chapters, please fill this form with your username!

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Chapter 4: push & pull

“I’m hungry!”

“Shh!” You put your finger on Helaena’s lips to keep her quiet, “you ate all of our snacks! How are you still hungry?”

“I don’t knowwww,” she whines, dropping her head back on your lap as you resume the movie, “I need sweets!”

“It’s three in the morning, I doubt you want to wake up the entire house just to find a chocolate bar,” you thread your fingers through her soft and freshly showered silver hair.

“Babe,” she turns around, reaching for the control to pause the movie before she looks up at you, “why do you think we live in a mansion in the first place?”

“Because you have billions of money and have no idea what to do with it?” You ask, chuckling and rolling your eyes affectionately when she slaps your arm, “as if there is another reason behind it.”

“Of course there is!” She sits up, plopping a pillow next to yours as she sits shoulder to shoulder with you, “Aemond is an awfully light sleeper, so is Mum! Aegon would even sleep through… I don’t know, imagine Michael Jackson screaming in a mic and putting the amplifier next to his ear. Daeron is the best, heavy sleeper but his survival instinct would save him from anything. Me—“

“You don’t sleep at all,” she gawks at you before laughing, “What? You think I don’t know my best friend like the back of my hand? Or why we’re watching The Dance of Dragons trilogy at this god-awful hour? I’m offended!”

She pushes you playfully, “That’s not what I meant! You’re right, I don’t sleep much, but that’s not the point. I’m saying living in a mansion is quite cool because we put Mum and Aemond at the back of the building and chose our rooms afterward. So if you sneak into the kitchen…”

“I’m not gonna sneak there and shuffle around your cabinets like a fucking thief, Hel!” 

“It’s literally your home too! You’ve been here a thousand times, no one would bat an eye if they catch you going through Aegon’s snacks!” She says, pouting a bit as she gives you her best puppy eyes, “One bag of his gummy bears, just one!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” you glare at her, scoffing immediately when she gives you her most precious smile.

“Yes, please?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you hiss, “Besides, I have no clue which cabinet I should search for.”

“The one next to the stove—“

“Helaena!”

“Please please please, I will take a walk with you in the morning—“

“I’m not dumb, why should going on a walk with you be anywhere near interesting?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest as you give her a pointing look.

“Because… because I can take you shopping! You know, Aegon will probably give a theme for his party so what better reason than to go on a girl’s date and buy some clothes?!”

“No, and no—“

“One bag, that’s all I’m asking!”

“Fine!” She squeals in joy, “but you will make it up to me, you giant twenty-seven-year-old kid. And shopping is the least you can do.”

“Okay, babe, whatever you want! I can even set you up with one of Aegon’s friends—“

“I'll take the walk, please! Keep those boys away from me,” You stand up from the bed, shaking your head before you slowly turn the doorknob, and before you step out, you look at her and shake your head when you see her lying on the bed with her hands under her chin.

You look at the empty hallway, checking to see if anyone is around or not before walking downstairs, tiptoeing to make sure you wake up no one. Gripping the stair bars, you relax a bit when the wooden stairs don’t make a loud cracking sound.

The path to the kitchen is quiet and empty, but with the numerous vases and other home decor Alicent has put around the house, it’s hard to move around without breaking something or making a loud noise. You have been here many times, but the paintings and various pieces they have will always surprise you; they are so beautiful, and you expect nothing less from the Targaryens.

You finally reach the kitchen, slowly making your way towards the stove to find the cabinet or a drawer — because only those are next to the stove — Helaena told you about. Pulling the first drawer out, you find nothing but forks and spoons, nothing near a good snack, unfortunately. The next one contains spices and herbs, arranged neatly in jars with labels.

“What are you doing here?”

“Fucking hell!” You scream and turn around, hand on your chest as you look at Aemond who is equally surprised to see you here at such an hour, “you scared the shit out of me!”

“Shh…” he approaches you slowly, reaching to take your hand in his to calm you down, “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me, or even saw me.”

“How could I see you? My back was to you!” You exhale shakily, letting him take your hands in his larger ones, slowly caressing your skin, “what are you doing here? Creeping on me like that?”

“I was in the kitchen when you walked in,” he says, his lips twisting in a small smirk as he sees your lips part in shock.

“How did I not see you?” You gawk at him, laughing breathlessly, “You’re a giraffe, tall as fuck and your hair shines like a flashlight! Were you hiding?”

“No, no,” he steps closer, chuckling lowly to not make so much sound, your hands still in his, “I was searching for a cutting board.”

“What?” You smile a bit, looking up at him as he towers over you, “I’m really curious now.”

“No, you’re just nosy,” he smirks when he sees you open your mouth to disagree, but you catch on his teasing tone quickly and bat his hands away.

“Asshole.”

“I’m kidding,” with a kiss on the back of your hand, he moves past you to put the cutting board on the kitchen island, “I missed dinner and couldn’t sleep either so…”

“You wanna cook dinner? Now?” you ask him, rounding the island to stand close to him, “You are crazy!”

“I’m hungry,” he groans, shaking his head as he moves to another cabinet and pulls out a pot to fill it with water.

“What is up with you Targaryens being hungry at such an hour?” You lean on the counter, watching him put the full pot on the stove, taking your time to look at him from head to toe.

He is wearing a loose black T-shirt, with gray sweatpants that stay low on his hip bones. His silver hair is clipped and his glasses are on the bridge of his nose — he looks so cozy and welcoming, and he most certainly glides across the room so effortlessly, pulling out different ingredients to chop.

“What did Hel want anyway?” He asks, pulling out an onion and placing it on the cutting board next to you, leaning just like you with his hips on the counter.

“How did you know she wanted something?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I doubt you’d come and snoop around for Aegon.”

“Why not?” You raise an eyebrow at him, taking a step closer to him, “Maybe I was in his room, what then—“

“No,” he whispers, putting the knife down before he puts one hand on each side of your hips, the heel of his palm on the dip between where your thighs meet your hips and his fingers against the kitchen island — not gripping you fully, but enough to make you tremble slightly, especially with the way he looks at you, so raw and playful, “you wouldn’t allow him to make a single flirty comment, and you want me to believe that you just left his room?”

“What if I have changed my mind?” You look up at him through your lashes, voice barely above whispering, “Maybe I have fallen for his Targaryen charm?”

“The only Targaryen charm you’ll fall for is—”

“Babeee!” suddenly Helaena’s hushed whisper echoes in the kitchen

Your eyes widen and in the blink of an eye, you push Aemond away and move to the cabinet Helaena told you about earlier, trying to make yourself look busy while Aemond puts his palms on top of the island, leaning down a bit as he sighs, his face forming into a deep scowl as he watches his sister tiptoe into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Aemy,” she waves at him, finally finding you crouched down next to the cabinet, “What’s taking you so long?”

“I couldn’t find the cabinet—” “It’s the one you are sitting in front of,” she says, smiling as she looks at her brother reaching for the knife, “and what are you doing here?”

“I was hungry,” he mutters, slicing the onion in half, “What do you want?”

“My promised gummy bears and a glass of water,” she shrugs and walks to grab her glass and you take the chance to stand up with her snack, standing side by side with Aemond, both of you following Helaena’s movements as she hums happily and fills her glass with water.

You glance at Aemond, catching him already looking at you with an unreadable expression that makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. Averting your eyes quickly, you watch Hel making her way to you before she gives you a quick hug.

“I’m going to bed, we will finish them another day.” “Sure, love,” you smile, “I’ll go to bed in a few minutes too, goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Aemond says quietly, moving towards the boiling water on the stove before he drops uncooked spaghetti in it and walks back to the cutting board.

“What are you cooking?” 

“Penne alla vodka,” he replies, smirking when you roll your eyes at him.

“Of course, typical classy Aemond,” you say, groaning a bit because of how tired you are, “your sister is a menace for keeping me up so long. I can’t even stand on my feet!”

“Then you don’t have to stand,” he says casually, wiping his hands with the cloth hanging from the waistband of his sweats. He moves closer to you, backing you up against the kitchen island with a teasing look in his good eye, his hands coming up to grip your waist and before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and sits you on the island, his fingers digging into your flesh.

You swallow, bracing yourself by your hands on his chest as you look at Aemond, finding him standing closer to you between your legs, his eye focusing solely on your face — how your lips part with a quiet gasp falling from them, how your pupils are blown with something he can’t read quite well. 

You are a vision to behold.

He leans closer, his face mere inches away from yours, his hot breath fanning against your face. You inhale sharply when he cranes his neck and his nose bumps into yours, his hooded eye hazy as he stares at you.

His grip tightens on your waist, and you feel his fingers caressing your back and the side of your tummy slowly, almost shyly, but with his lips only one breath, you know there is no shyness left within him, only determination.

As soon as he wants to lean down and capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss, the pasta in the oven is long overcooked and the boiling water pours out, making a loud hissing sound that makes Aemond break apart from you.

“Shit,” he groans, the warmth of his hand gone from your waist as he jogs to the stove and lifts the pot to empty the remaining water of the pasta, cursing himself in his head with how careless he acted — not only he nearly ruined your friendship but also his late dinner will taste like an uncooked dough.

“I-I think I should go to bed,” you stutter, jumping down from the island, smiling awkwardly at him, “goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he watches you leave in a hurry, running a hand down his face — mindful of his glasses — he sighs loudly, “What the fuck was I thinking?”

If only he knew the answer to this.

“Okay kids, listen up!” Aegon claps his hands, stepping on top of the huge table in the guest wing’s living room, trying his best to give the four of you — six if you count Criston and Alicent — a very very pointed, dramatic and serious look, “tonight, we will drink!”

He points at Daeron and Aemond who are each holding two bottles of whatever drinks, or poison to put it better, Aegon has chosen to feed you tonight.

“Tonight, we will dance!” He points at Helaena who rolls her eyes and presses play on her phone so the music blasts through the amplifiers around the house but quickly pauses it so Aegon can talk.

“Annnnndddd!” He jumps down, striding towards you with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. He grabs you by your waist, twirls you around suddenly, and dips you down on his arm before he leans down, “We will have fun!” He leans to kiss you, but you put your palm on his face and push him away roughly, laughing out loud with him when you make a gagging sound.

“Get away from me you moron!”

“I’m sure my kisses would make you feel much better—”

“I rather die than have your tongue down my throat,” you stand behind Aemond, and when Aegon sees how hard his brother is glaring at him, he whistles and wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you — Aemond blushes horribly and you only give a tight-lipped awkward smile.

“Alright!” Alicent says, walking towards the table Aegon was standing up to fix the tablecloth, “I know you’ll take care of everything, but—” she looks at Aegon, “no drugs,” she then turns to Daeron and Helaena, “No sneaking out of the house,” then she looks at Aemond, “no goddamn books!” “I don’t even read that much,” Aemond sighs, putting the vanilla vodka bottles on the table before he crosses his arms, “I haven’t had the time to read even one book.” “I don’t care, Aemond. No books, no workshop, no merging with the darkness and sulking in a corner of this house. Okay?”

“Yes, Mum, I get it,” he agrees, turning around to glance at you, only for you to give him an encouraging smile.

“Now that we’re all settled,” Aegon reaches and throws his arm around Alicent’s shoulder, “take out dinner, obviously—”

“What do you mean ‘take out’? I didn’t hire a chef for you to say you’ll get our guests nasty food,” Alicent frees herself from Aegon, giving him one last look before she moves with Cole on toe towards the exit, “Also, the catering will be here soon, if you wanna help, you’ll need to wait a bit for them.” “Did you hear that?” Aegon asks, eyes wide and a very large grin finds its way on his face.

“Billionaires have such a hard life, I pity you guys,” You say sarcastically, “what’s up with these faces? You don’t like having a private chef?”

“Babe,” Helaena comes and grabs your hand, “This means Mum really wants us to party! She only gets this generous when she wants us to have fun.” “A private chef is a pretty great thing,” Aemond shrugs, grabbing yet another two bottles of vanilla vodka with a grimace on his face and putting them down next to the other two.

“No shit Sherlock! Of course, it’s amazing! Who wouldn’t want a fresh plate of ribs in the middle of a partially illegal party?” he chuckles at you, nodding at the catering that finally arrived, putting his warm palm on your waist.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I am always in charge of dinner because these three,” he points at his siblings, “get absolutely hammered and won’t be able to order takeout.”

“I knew Helaena would get drunk if she set her mind to it but Daeron?” you ask leaning closer to his side, looking up at him, and occasionally glancing at the other three siblings who are helping the catering staff with the food and drinks.

“He is a mixed… combination of all of us,” he chuckles, his nails digging into your waist as he scratches your skin under your shirt gently, lit the fire of the memory of a few hours ago you shared, “He doesn’t drink much but when he does… well, rest assured he gets as bad and loud as Aegon.”

“I’ve been here countless times but never seen him acting like an idiot,” you laugh, walking to grab the closest tray to help with the setting. Aemond does the same and follows you around the room quietly, making small talk with you until everything is set and ready for the party.

You and him walk forward, and for the first time he doesn’t guide you with his hand on your back, and you see how he is pondering hard about something.

“He wanted to really kiss you,” he whispers for only you to hear. You stop and a soft yet confused expression overtakes your face as you look at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What?” “Aegon,” he says, “he likes you, maybe he would have gotten away with it if you let him kiss you.”

“Aemond, don’t be ridiculous,” you grab his wrist gently, forcing him to stop, “I said it once, I’ll say it again; I don’t like Aegon romantically, and I would rather die than let him get close to my face.”

He doesn’t look too convinced, so with one glance at your back to see where your best friend and the rest of her siblings are, you hold his other hand in yours as well, “Besides, I would rather kiss another Targ—” “Go find some clothes, kids! It’s a white party!” Aegon announces, and Helaena suddenly appears out of nowhere and wraps her arms around you, making you let go of Aemond’s hands immediately.

“Come on, babe! Let’s go get ready!” you don’t have time to finish your sentence so with one last look at Aemond, you leave with Hel towards your rooms to get ready.

Aemond pulls shirt after shirt out of his closet, all of them are either black or dark green and those who are colorful are blue. Nothing. He can’t find anything to wear and it has started to annoy him.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his hair unruly and in need of a good brush but that can wait. His outfit on the other hand can’t, and the fact that Aegon’s guests will arrive in a few minutes is driving him crazy. 

With a loud annoyed groan, he stands up and moves toward his hung clothes, searching through them, but again, all he can find is a pair of white sneakers that thankfully will go with any outfit he chooses.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to think of any Shirts or pants he can find, but he is interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Hey,” you open the door a bit, smiling at him before slipping inside, but before you can stop yourself, your eyes roam over his topless figure leaning over the closet with his sweat hanging low on his hips.

Aemond is even worse than you; seeing you in a white sundress with sheer sleeves that hung low on your shoulders and the dress reaching your mid-thighs… he is speechless. His eye roams over your figure slowly, taking in the sight of you.

He can see how you get shy all of a sudden, caressing your arm as he literally looks you up and down.

“How do I look?” you ask, twirling to show the back of the dress as well.

“Wow,” breathtaking, gorgeous, mindblowing, earth-shattering, “Beautiful,” you make his heart nearly leap out of his chest, his cheeks turning pink as he gazes at you like a teen boy experiencing his first high school crush.

“Thank you!” you smile, rocking on your feet, “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I couldn’t find anything.”

“Bullshit!”

“Excuse me?” he asks hesitantly, watching you curiously as you make your way to his wardrobe, standing in front of him to search within his clothes yourself.

“You wore those white shorts to the winery, hmmm, let me see—” You pull out a white shirt with baggy pants, both enough to make him much taller than he is, but he has to agree that the simplicity might actually look great, “here you go! But let me brush your hair first!”

You sit him down on the bed, crawling behind him with a brush and a hair tie you found on his vanity desk before you start slowly combing through his soft hair, detangling and making it look more presentable. 

He relaxes under your touch and lets you pull the front of his hair back and tie it so his face is shown more. He sighs and thanks you when you’re done, and to his surprise, you grab the shirt from him, forcing him to stand up to help him put it on, leaving the first few buttons undone before you do the rest slowly.

“Were you jealous?” You ask, letting your fingers brush over his pale chest, “When you saw Aegon wanted to kiss me?”

He swallows but as soon as you are done he pulls away and holds the pants up, signaling for you to leave so he can change, and you do but wait for him outside until he is ready.

“Maybe,” he says as you loop your arm through his, both of you walking toward the guest wing. You can already hear the blasting hip hop song Aegon is playing, the sounds of screaming and singing already filling the entire mansion.

“Really?” You ask quietly, letting go of his hand as soon as you reach the door, finding a few of Aegon’s friends around.

“I don’t know, I said maybe,” he moves away from you with one last smirk and enters the party. The smell of alcohol, cigarette, and smoke fills his lungs, and soon spots Daeron and Aegon mixing cocktails and handing them to the guests. Helaena is busy talking to an old friend of his, Cregan Stark, and she is all blushy and giggly while she sips on her drink — he makes a mental note to check up on her regularly.

“Here is our boyyyy!” One of Aegon’s friends screams and throws his arm around Aemond’s shoulders, shaking him as everyone erupts in joy and laughter, a shot of whiskey is thrusted into his hands and everyone is suddenly encouraging him to drown the drink in one go.

“Come on, Aemy! Don’t be a fucking pussy!” Aegon screams over the music, and with one final sigh, he brings the glass to his lips and empties the drink down his throat, making everyone around him scream and clap him on the back before they start shouting for another shot, which Daeron pours for him and as the first one, he drowns it again.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Aegon suddenly jumps onto an empty table, completely topless with two bottles of vodka in his hands as he screams and cheers for Aemond while holding the bottles up.

“He is so fucking insane!” Daeron shakes his head when Aegon starts rolling his hips to the music, his silver hair covered in sweat and possibly alcohol as he flexes his abs and chest for the girls.

“He is disgusting,” Aemond sighs, watching amusedly as Aegon jumps down and wraps his arms around two girls, moving to dance with them while their hands wander all over his body.

Aemond looks around and finds you and Helaena on the dance floor, clearly drunk out of your mind with how you are laughing and moving around. He drowns the rest of his drink before he sneaks out of the party, moving outside toward his workshop to clear his head, but before that, he goes back to the main building and grabs a bottle of water to sober up.

He finds Vhagar already waiting for him at the entrance, wiggling her tail when she notices Aemond. He crouches down to pet her softly, scratching behind her ears and kissing her furs before he stands up and moves to the backyard, his old lady following him quickly.

On their way to the workshop, they find Aegon and the two girls sneaking upstairs, making out with one while the other caresses his skin. Aemond rolls his eye in disgust as he moves past them, finding a pair of heels on the ground as she enters the small wood attached to their yard after where the Weirwood tree is.

He walks further inside the woods, following the path he once walked with you which leads to his workshop, Vhagar happily accompanies him there, even jogging and running past him numerous times to show her enthusiasm — she just loves being around him.

He notices a shadow in the workshop, moving around clumsily as it touches and picks different things up. He thinks it might be one of Aegon’s dumbass friends, wandering around their house drunk and exhausted. But how did someone, anyone find the key to unlock the door?

He opens the door, catching you of all the people snooping around his stuff, smiling when you find a pretty seven-pointed star keychain with Alicent’s name carved under it — he remembers when he made that. He was only seventeen, and he had moved past that amateur phase and got a grip on the woodwork and different types of it. What better way to celebrate his Mum’s birthday than gifting her something he made from scratch?

“Hey you,” he says slowly, not wanting to frighten you like he did this morning, “And what are you exactly doing here?”

“Look who’s here,” you turn around opening your arms, burping as you talk, showing how good Aegon’s cocktail must have been to get you this giddy, “sorry, Little nerd! I saw this really really pretty place and couldn’t help myself! Isn’t it strange that no one uses here? Urgh, what I would do to stay here.”

“Alright, darling, don’t pout,” he slowly reaches to grab your arm so you don’t trip over anything and fall down, “How did you get in here?”

“Did you just—” you gasp, letting him pull you to his side, “did you just call me darling?”

“Yes, I did,” he nods, keeping you secure on your feet before he offers you the water bottle, urging you to drink from it, “have this, clearly you need it more than I do.”

“What a gentleman! Thank you,” you say, taking a large sip after he helps you open the bottle, the cold water makes you feel slightly better so you drink the rest too, not sobering up completely but enough to remember where you are and who you are with and more importantly remember what you are doing.

“So, how did you get in here?” Aemond asks again, taking the empty bottle from you before tossing it for Vhagar, who happily claws at the plastic, jumping on it before she takes it outside to bury it somewhere — which Aemond would need to find later.

“Found a spare key under that vase,” you pointed at the vase outside his door on the floor, “You are not as slick as you think, Aemond, calling me darling and everything.”

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?” he asks playfully, watching you bite your lips in response, shaking your head slightly, “then I guess I won’t.”

You look around the workshop and find a wooden pallet with half a portrait carved on it. The lines are oddly familiar, a woman perhaps because of the details put in the jaw, and the hair looks so delicate and soft.

“Wow, Aemond…” You free yourself from his arms and move to take a closer look at the half-done wooden portrait, “Did you make this?”

“Yes…” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck in shame or perhaps anxiousness, because what if you recognize who the person is? All of his efforts will be in vain. What will you think of him? A boy with nothing better than observing women? A pervert?

“This is fascinating!” you keep looking at the wooden pallet but something catches your eye; a printed black and white picture of the person’s portrait, but before you can reach for it, Aemond grabs your forearm and pulls you away roughly.

You gasp as he pulls you between him and the desk the portrait and all of his stuff are on. His breathing is frantic, and his long fingers hold your forearm tight enough not to hurt you.

You look up at him, lips parted, a scene too familiar — this morning, so close to each other, one mingling breath away yet too far — but there is a fire burning within him, a newfound determination that makes his heart beat faster and his hands shake.

He is not a weak mean, quite the contrary, but when he looks down at you, catching how your gaze falls on his lips… he is no better than any other man.

He leans down a little, the sounds of the outside world fading away as he moves his face closer, and he notices how you slowly twist your arm out of his grasp, only to move them toward his chest, and he takes the sign and reaches to hold you by your waist, his nose bumping into yours as the distance between you decreases

You smell so sweet, like strawberry on a whipped cream once Aegon fed him when he was feeling down. It’s sweet but not too much to have him run away, to shy away from such a delicious taste. Will your lips taste the same if he musters the courage to just move down a bit and finds it by himself?

“Aemond…” One whisper of his name is all it takes for his restraint to shatter into a million pieces, and finally, finally, he leans down enough to capture your lips in a quick kiss. Both of you waiting for waited breath to see who will lean in, give in, and take what they want

Both, you both lean in, meeting each other halfway as your lips meet in a chaste messy kiss.

You taste so sweet just as he thought, but not just a strawberry tooth rooting sweet, no. you taste like a fresh cold morning breeze on a summer day, you feel like a cold shower after an exhausting day — so refreshing, so… so much like home. As if he has only found the solace he has been seeking with Alys for so long but something has always been amiss, but with you… oh, one kiss is enough for him to know how wrong he was.

You tangle your fingers through his hair, and he takes the chance to sit you on the desk, but by doing so, he knocks a little vase on the ground, and you freeze.

You pull away from the kiss, muttering his name but he doesn’t let you say anything before he seals his lips to yours in an endearing kiss. But you push him away by putting your hands on his chest, making enough room for you to talk.

“Aemond, we can’t—” “What do you mean we can’t?” He asks, panicking a little but you manage to ease his mind with a quick kiss, “What do you mean, darling?” He asks again, voice barely above whispering.

“I don’t want to be your rebound…” you pull him down enough so his forehead rests on yours, “I don’t want to be the person who you fuck just after you’ve been dumped.”

“You’re… you’re not that, you will never be that! Alys—“

“Alys… you’re still not over her, Little nerd,” you caress his cheek lovingly, pressing a gentle kiss on the apple of his cheek before you push him away and put a great distance between the two of you, and with teasr in your eyes you say one last sentence and leave.

“You still love Alys.”

[chaostudee]

you belong with me, lando norris.

summary : after another failed date you rely on lando to comfort you to which he confesses something to you. warnings : none a/n : literally all i've been doing is smau but written works will forever have my heart :)

a sigh escaped you lips just as your eyes flicked to your phone to take a glimpse at the time. the past two hours had been torture, and although you hadn't had much faith that this one would get well you hadn't pictured it to be this grim. this man wouldn't shut up about himself, not once letting you get a word in edge ways.

a few minutes ago he said that he needed to pop to the bathroom just as you had both finished dessert. partially you were glad to be rid of him but were now suspicious that he had been gone for so long. in instinct your eyes flutter around the restaurant at the various couples and families dining. in doing so you spot your blind date darting hie eyes around the restuarant briefly before fleeing out the front door.

your eyes widen at the scene and you tutt to yourself. so typical. at that moment the waiter walks over to hand you the check.

"um can you give me a second?" you ask knwoing damn well your purse is full of nothing but makeup products.

"sure" the waiter replies with a nod before departing.

you quickly scour your purse for your phone and dial the one person you know that would be able to help you out.

"hey what's up??"

the sound of his voice makes you smile.

"well um i need your help...."

lando pauses. "that doesn't sound good...."

you laugh sarcastically. "yeah well it's not um so basically just before the check came the guy just upped and left and um since he said he was going to pay i left my purse at home. so i guess what i'm asking is for some money and i promise i'll pay you-"

"wait wait wait" lando cuts you off "he just left you?! what the actual fuck?!"

"i know i mean i should've known"

"what no no baby it's not your fault, here i'll send you the money real quick"

your stomach flips at the pet name, it always does but you would never admit that to him.

"thank you lando" you whisper.

"no problem angel, you know i'll always look out for you.

"okay um one last favour"

"hit me"

"can you pick me up it's kinda late and you know"

"ofc i will just send me your location"

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

lando hands you a cup of tea just as he joins you on the couch.

"thanks" you look up at him as you speak and he replies with a nod before taking a sip of his coffee.

lando shakes his head. " i actually still can't believe that son of a bitch did that to you"

you look down into the cup, the steam rising and hitting your cheeks. "i mean i guess i always choose the wrong ones"

"don't you dare say that sweetheart it is not your fault at all".

"lando-"

"no i'm serious ever time you come back from a date you tell me another crazy story and sweetheart it's nothing got to do with you"

"but what if it is me"

lando looks at you smypathetically.

"trust me it's not you, anyone would be lucky to have you"

"thanks lando but we both know that's not true"

lando sets down his cup and runs his hands through his hair. before putting his head in his hands and letting out a groan.

"what's wrong?"

"you are so oblivious"

"what wdym?"

lando smiles and begins to move closer to you. you watch as his eyes latch onto yours and then down to your lips. your heart begins to beat rapidly.

"as i said anyone would be lucky to have you"

you gulp. lando takes his hand and uses it to rest under your chin so you are forced to look at him.

"you are the most important person in my life"

"lando don't"

"don't what?"

"you're just saying that to make me feel better"

lando chuckles. "trust me i'm not you are and will forever be the most important person in my life, you're my best friend."

you smile shyly at him, there was no one that made you feel as loved as him.

"there were times i wanted it to be more".

your eyes widen at his confession and you open your mouth but just as you were about to speak you were stopped.

lando pulled his you into him placing his lips on yours. you didn't pull back but instead sunk deep into the kiss and as his smiled into your lips you couldn't help the heat that rised to your cheeks.

after a few moments you pull back and smile at him as you run a hand through his hair.

"was that okay?" he asks unsure if he had made you uncomfortable.

"more than okay" you admit.

and with that he pulled you in to his lap making you squeal before pressing his lips against yours once again.

in that moment you had never been happier and annoyed with yourself that you hadn't noticed the good in front of you all this time.

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@llando4norris

@hadidsworld

@mxryxmfooty

[iwaasfairy]

FAIIRYYYYYYY!!!!!! WRITE FOR KENMA AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

a quick little smt smt because kenma has been on my mind since I watched the movIEEEE I loVE HIM O WANT hIM ♡♡

tw twincest, implied past underage content

“Don’t let the twins run off together without supervision,” your mom used to tell your aunt if she’d babysit. ‘Babysit’ as in lighten the load of two sneaky, restless pre-teens on your very overworked parents. Your brother was quiet, and shy around everyone that he didn’t know well, but he was always a force with you. One who knew what he wanted, and would get you to play along as long as you’d let him.

They’re up to no good, she’d pet your head with affection, but brows furrowed with something other. Aunts, cousins, family friends. Always said it with a certain look at you both, before leaning in to whisper— and you guess back then they knew something you didn’t.

Kenma probably knew. He just didn’t care you never did, because even with the added surveillance of older cousins he’d still find a way to dash off with your hand in his. Giggling and panting where you’d snuggle together in the alley behind the woodshed, or ducked into the pantry under the stairs to whisper and let him show you all kinds of things. Usually it was just the next enemy on his beat up Gameboy, or some cards he traded with Kuroo, or even a new trick with the ball. Sometimes it was something else, hand over your mouth when he told you to keep quiet.

“Your teacher told me a certain pair of twins always skip out on classes together,” your dad chastises over dinner one night after a big volleybal match. “Wonder which twins he could possibly be referring to.” This time it was the back room behind the gym equipment— only hastily cleaned up before the teachers stormed in. Can’t help it, a slight smile starts pulling at your lips.

You almost laugh when Kenma kicks your foot under the table, as your spoon clings too hard against the porcelain plates. “Just because Kenma does stupid boy stuff that will get him in trouble—” Your father’s thin glasses are down his nose as he looks at just you, interrupting your opened mouth to point your way, “doesn’t mean you have to join him. I really expect better from you kids.”

He acts like you’re supposed to know better. Maybe he should wonder if Kenma’s just convincing. It’s a simple and quick answer, he is. From the way Kenma slurps his soup, staring you down across the table under thick, playful lashes, you learn that apparently it’s more acceptable for boys to act mischievous. “Sorry, dad.” Big brother sighs.

Kenma’s feet grab yours to pull it up onto his chair, then plays with your toes so that you have to hold the giggle from breaking out in between the sharp breathing through your nose. “Sorry, daddy.” You parrot when he doesn’t let up, biting your lip at the way he pushes his thumb in.

Your dad is none the wiser, and just sighs. “You’re the older brother, Kenma. I want you to take care of your sister, not lead her astray.”

He does though, you want to say. Just maybe not in the way they’d like to see him care.

It’s only natural that you follow your big brother, your other half, across Tokyo after graduation. Into a bigger apartment where he can stream— when he asks it under hushed whispers trailing fingers down your arm. Of course you say yes.

It’s how you find yourself with your head on his lap, letting his long, skinny fingers trail through your hair as he sinks deeper into the couch. “D’you want some Thai too? I have to work at three so we can’t go out yet. That’s okay by you, right?” He’s so pretty from here, looks down at you with those sharp, calculating eyes with a softness reserved for just you.

“I’ll eat what you eat, nii nii,” you yawn, and also lift your upper half a bit more to press kisses to his hard cock, lick up the bead of glistening precum there. You’ll do whatever your twin wants you to do. You’ll do what you’ve always done.

Taking his cock into your mouth makes him let out the prettiest mumble, pushing up into your soft lips a little more as he agrees. “I know.” You let your head be pushes down as you hollow your cheeks around him, and choke just a little before you reach his pubes- pushing into the back of your throat. It’s hot, and he tastes so good. “I don’t need anyone else. Y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you’re nodding while pulling back, instead going to suck on his balls with an eager tongue. His cock twitches to get back to you. And the coy smile on your face as you look up from his lap makes him groan, holding the phone away from his mouth for a few seconds to watch you. “Guess we shouldn’t have been let off without supervision, huh?”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Private Practice

Hi guys!

It’s a new one-shot for my series "Lia & The Firefighter", but like the others you can read this one without having read the others.

It's from a request here and I already have another one for this serie and that makes me very happy because I like this one :)

TW : None, I think?

For once, saying goodbye to Lia for your double shift wasn’t too hard. You knew that her and the Arsenal’s women team would come at almost the end of your shift to the fire station. After what happened to Frida during the finale for the ContiCup, Arsenal’s staff decided to organize a formation about first aid.

You have been with Lia for almost three years now, so the team heard about you several times and they all know what you are doing for a living. That’s why they decided to contact your fire station, after asking Lia if she was okay with that.

She was and you were too, of course. You love your job and being able to talk about it is always something you find great. You weren’t in the stand when Frida went down, but you are secretly relieved to know that people around Lia will be more aware of what to do if something happens to your girlfriend while you are not around.

Your shift was pretty calm this time, of course you had emergencies, but nothing was too complicated. You even had time to eat sitting on a chair, which is something you sometimes can’t do.

Before they come, you take a shower and wash your hair, wanting to be as prepared as possible. You help your Commander to prepare the things you will need for the course and write some reports to pass time.

“Y/L/N, they are here!”

You smile while you finish writing your last sentence before getting up from your chair. You know that you won’t be able to kiss Lia like you do when you go home but seeing her when you aren’t supposed to makes you happy.

You, your Commander and two other firefighters are present for the course. The girl and the team are already here when you join them in the hangar, where the trucks are parked.

You can’t help but look at Lia, who is beautiful as always. She calls you cheesy when you swear that you don’t even look at other women since you have her in your life, but it’s true. No one can fight with her. She’s your perfection.

“So, Y/N, which one am I not authorized to flirt with?” teases one of your colleagues.

“No one, if you don’t want to explain to your wife why you have a broken jaw.”

It makes him chuckle, but he stops really quickly when he sees your burning gaze. You are overprotective with Lia, it’s not something new for anyone. You never let her carry anything, you always cook when you can and you insist that she rests when you are both at home, pushing her to lie down on the couch while you are cleaning or doing the laundry.

But since you saved Alessia from that stupid man in a nightclub several months ago, you also started to go out more with them. They slowly became your friends and you have the tendency to protect your friends too. Nothing to do with how you behave with Lia naturally, but Alessia still started to call you her bodyguard since that day.

You address a wink at your girlfriend when she looks back at you, standing between Steph and Leah, before going back to your work face. Arms crossed on your chest, you listen to your Commander talking about how the emergencies are working. You already know that of course. But you are still listening, giving your Captain the attention he deserves from you.

“How do you let her leave the house when she’s dressed like this? She’s so hot” Kyra whispers in Lia’s ear.

Alessia next to her giggles and even if she slaps Kyra’s arm, Steph can’t hide the smile on her face.

You are not wearing all your uniform, only your fire pants and your navy polo, with your black boots.

“Leave her alone” Leah whispers, passing her arm around Lia’s shoulders.

Leah knows how secretive and prudent Lia is about your relationship; you are still a secret for the rest of the world. Only your friends and family know about you. You have to admit that it works perfectly for you too.

“Thanks” Lia mumbles to Leah.

“She’s right, though. This uniform is something else” Leah smirks.

Lia rolls her eyes and smiles too. Even if your job scares her to death sometimes, she’s still proud about you.

After those explanations, your Captain separates the team into three groups. You are assigned to the cardiac massage, while another group will go to theory and the last group will have false emergency scenarios to work on.

You greet the girls with a smile, you know them pretty well now. Caitlin and Katie are in this group, and you can’t help but smile when you realize that they manage to be together for that too. You know that Caitlin is Lia’s ex, of course. But you never had any problem with her, Caitlin always has been respectful and her having her own girlfriend now put an endpoint about any rivalry who might have existed.

Katie is in fact one of the girls you get along with the best. She teases you every time about your relationship with Lia, but she’s very fond of her girlfriend too. So, you don’t hesitate to tease her back and you always have fun together.

But today you are very concentrated, and the girls all have a little reminder about how impressed they were by you. Now they know that your closed face is a barrier to the world and that inside you are as soft as a marshmallow. And that you are wrapped around Lia’s little finger.

The second group includes Kyra with Kim and Steph, and you wonder if they put the young Australian with the two other women to make her behave. She’s in fact very concentrated too and is one of the best at cardiac massage.

“Pretty impressive” you say to Kyra after having checked the consistency of her massage.

“Thanks” she answers proudly before sticking her tongue to Steph.

You roll your eyes and smile, for the first time since you began the course. Seems like she can’t stay serious for too long anyway.

The last group comprises Leah, Alessia but especially Lia. You are eager to have your girlfriend next to you, even if you have to stay professional. Which you do very well to be honest, if the others didn’t know you were dating, no one could have guessed.

“Hi” you smirk at Lia when it’s her turn to do the cardiac massage.

“Hello” she smiles back.

Just like the others, you look at Lia working, telling the things to change when needed. You take on yourself not to look at her with your habitual loving eyes, keeping it professional once again. Even when her perfume tickles your nose and the fact that you could completely let your gaze go on the southern part of her anatomy.

The tiredness you usually feel when you are at the end of your shift isn’t here today either, thanks to your girlfriend and her friends.

After all the girls and the rest of the team have passed, you meet one last time in the hangar. Once again you listen carefully to what your Captain is saying. You just look quickly at the clock on the wall, happy to learn that you only have twenty minutes left before being authorized to go home.

Several minutes later, Arsenal’s team is leaving. Not without having a paper signed by your Captain.

“Wait for me?” you whisper to Lia when the girls come to thank you.

She smiles and nods, before leaving with the others. You look at her leaving, before turning to your colleagues.

“Nice of you to have kept your hand for yourself” one of them teases again.

You frown and open your mouth to answer but your Commander, still in the room, doesn’t hesitate to intervene sharply.

“I think there are still trucks that need to have their equipment updated. It will maybe be more interesting than gossip.”

Your colleague blushes but nods before leaving the hangar. You don’t flinch when your Captain turns in your direction.

“Y/L/N, you’re dismissed.”

You nod and hide a smile, thanking your Captain before leaving. You hurry to change and freshen up a little, before almost running out to find Lia. She’s waiting for you, standing in a corner of the yard. You can’t hide the smile this time, happy to finally have her for you.

“Hi Beautiful” you smile, passing your arms around her waist.

“Hi”

You sigh of well-being by feeling it against you, closing your eyes briefly. You missed her during those last two days, even if you were able to exchange some messages during this time.

“I missed you” you mumble, your face in her hair.

You let her cup your face between both of her hands, looking at you for several seconds before talking. You let her do it. You hated that when you started dating, but now you’re much more comfortable when she does it. It feels like she’s scanning your soul.

“How tired are you?” she finally asks.

“I’m okay. Why?”

“Would you mind showing me around the station?”

You hesitate for some seconds, before nodding and taking her by the hand. Lia never came inside the fire station, even if she has already picked you up from work several times.

“I need to ask my Commander before” you inform Lia while entering the fire station.

You don’t let Lia’s hand go when you enter it, going right to the office where you know you will find him. You wait politely for his authorization to enter after you knock, entering discreetly into his office.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to show Lia the station, my Commander” you ask, standing straight.

He gives a big smile to Lia. He always has loved her; you don’t know why. He even menaces you to kick your ass if you do something bad to her. But there is not a single chance in the world for you to do that. You haven’t told him that way, but Lia is the love of your life.

“Sur. Just be careful not to disturb your colleagues who are still working”

“Of course, Sir. Thank you very much”

You nod and offer him a smile, before grabbing Lia’s hand again to drag her outside the office. You hear him adding something just before you close the door.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Lia.”

Lia giggles and the sound alone makes you smile. You take her against you to kiss her cheek, now you are alone there is no one to tease you. You can see her smile under your lips. She’s bashful about your relationship, but the tenderness between you is here at any moment of the day.

You take your girlfriend to visit the different rooms of the fire station. On the ground floor there are different garages and a changing room with some bathrooms. On the first floor, there are the different classrooms that Lia already knows because that’s where the Arsenal’s girls have spent their last hours. There is the cafeteria too and what you all call the living room. In this room there is a TV, a baby-foot table and some comfortable couches.

And on the last floor, there are bedrooms, showers and a balcony. It’s where you finish your tour, letting Lia look at the view. It’s not very amazing to be honest, the station is in the city. So, it’s basically buildings and cement.

“So? What do you think?” you ask your girlfriend after some minutes.

You smile when she turns in your direction again. She’s wearing her Arsenal’s outfit, but you love it inside. You can’t explain why you find her in a kit particularly sexy. She’s wearing a jogging today though, but she’s amazing anyway.

“It seems great” Lia smiles. “But I think I understand even more now why you crave a bath when you come home after your shift”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. Having a bathtub was one of your criteria when you were looking for an apartment. You told Lia once and she keeps teasing you about it. But she’s not wrong, you usually go straight for a hot bath when you come home. If Lia can be inside the water with you, it’s just like heaven.

You made her swear to keep your obsession for Lush bath bombs secret, though.

“Are you ready to go home?” you ask Lia.

“I am” she smiles.

She’s the one who takes your hand this time, but you follow her without any doubt. You just go to the changing room to grab your things before going to the parking lot to find your car.

“You are coming to mine, right?” you frown suddenly after having started the car.

“Yes, unless you don’t want me there” Lia smirks.

You don’t even respond, you just snort. If you could, you would probably spend every second of the day with her. And it seems to be a good enough answer for Lia, because your girlfriend only smiles and looks through the window.

A comfortable silence begins after that. And, just when you take a look at your girlfriend, you can only feel relaxed. There’s no place you’d want to be but here. You know you will have an amazing evening, with a bath, a homemade poke bowl just like Lia proposed to cook for you and definitely cuddles in front of the TV.

Once again, you couldn’t ask for more. Or better.

[shanastoryteller]

Meg is the first choice, of course, but she’s not suited to this type of long term mission and they all know it. The problem is, almost none of them are. The nature of the beast, she supposes.

That’s why it ends up being her, in the end. Well, it’s almost Ruby, but there’s one thing she has that Ruby doesn’t.

How she ended up here in the first place.

She thought Clyde loved her. She thought he’d take her away, from her father and her terrible life, and so when he died too young, before he could fulfill any of his promises, she’d sold her soul to bring him back.

But he hadn’t kept a single promise. She’d died in her father’s house.

“You remember being in love, don’t you?” he asks, cruel in his callousness, which is different than his other types of cruelty. It’s all he has, shining out in a thousand different ways. “You’ll be better at faking it.”

All she does is fake it.

“Yes,” she says.

This mission gets her topside. It’s worth it for that alone.

~

She slips into a pretty blonde named Rebecca first but by the end of the day, the girl’s screaming has given her a headache, and she slips right back out. She’ll probably just think she had a bad trip.

He’d offered to arrange something for her, but she wanted to pick herself, and she’s not interested in having someone crying and moaning in the back of her mind. But it’s not like there are a lot of options.

She could kill one, of course. But she’s never – she hasn’t been topside, before. Everything she’s killed before had already been dead. So she hovers for the next week, looking for some sort of opportunity, for something she can use that’s not going to scream at her.

The day before she’s going to have to either pick someone or risk being sent back, there’s a car accident.

The girl’s heart is still and her body’s warm, blood pooling down her head, but that’s nothing she can’t fix. She settles into the body, jumpstarting the heart and can feel the skin on her head knitting back together. It’s also blessedly, thankfully silent, with her the only one inside this body. The driver who hit her is dead and people are crowding in, a crying girl pulling her free. “Anne! Anne, are you okay, oh my god, I can’t believe that happened-”

She wrinkles her nose before smoothing out her expression.

The name will have to go. She’ll say she’s reinventing herself after tragedy, or something, but she’s not going to walk around responding to Anne. That’s not her name.

Anne’s a sophomore, which isn’t ideal, but she’s beautiful and doesn’t have that many friends and barely talks to her family, so she’s actually perfect.

She’s also blonde.

She’d been blonde before too.

~

All the demons who had run these sort of missions before give her advice, tell her things that will help her. Some of their assignments had lasted months, but no one’s tried to do it for as long as she’s supposed to.

He likes smart girls.

Be confident. Be flirty. He’s shyer than he looks.

He never had a mother. He likes it when girls take care of him.

He likes to take care of girls too. He wants to feel useful.

She’d had dreams, before, of all the ways she’d could escape her father. It wasn’t common for girls to get more than a basic education, but she’d been smart. She could read and do complicated sums and enjoyed the quiet evenings when she balanced her father’s books. She’d thought she might like an advanced education, thought it could get her out of her life, but hadn’t known how to manage it.

Clyde had seemed easier. More attainable. More realistic.

She’d sold her soul for nothing in the end. She hadn’t even got the full ten years of her bargain.

She doesn’t know how much of their advice she can take.

She can be smart, but considering the school they’re at, all the girls will be smart. She hadn’t been confident or flirty, which is maybe why she’d latched onto the first boy who smiled at her. She never had a mother herself and doesn’t know to act like one.

She’s never been taken care of and doesn’t know how to do that either.

There’s no way for her to do this. She’s going to be replaced and sent back below and he’ll be angry at her and she hates hates hates when he’s angry at her, what he does to her.

“Are you okay?”

She looks up, something cold on her tongue, but falters.

He’s standing there, warm hazel eyes and long dark hair, hunching to try and make himself smaller, and a smile on his face that does nothing to hide his concern.

“Do you ever feel like,” she starts, her dead stolen heart beating too quickly, “everything is falling apart around you and you have no idea what you’re doing and like maybe your whole life is one huge mistake?”

Well, fuck. She’s definitely being replaced now.

Except Azazel’s favorite throws back his head and laughs, smile stretching into a grin. “Every day of my life, more or less.”

“How do you deal with it?” she asks, scrubbing a hand over her face.

He shrugs. “Well, my brother would say women and liquor.” He seems to realize how that sounds a moment later and he pales, “Um, not that I’m – I’m not saying, I wasn’t trying to. He’s just sort of a cad, and – I wasn’t trying to, with you, uh.”

She feels herself softening in spite of herself. “So you’re not one to apply that method yourself?”

“No,” he says firmly, eyes wide. “God, I’m just – I’m sorry. I – I’m Sam.”

“Hi Sam,” she returns, with a smile she doesn’t have to fake. “I’m Jess.”

~

She’s not supposed to fall in love with him.

She’s to worm his way to his side. She’s to keep him from running back to his family, to keep him from rebuilding the bridges he’s burned. She’s to keep him distracted and focused on her until his powers activate and then she’s to guide him into using them, to be supportive and loving and to push him straight into Azazel’s arms.

Sam loves his family so much.

He talks of his brother all the time. His father less, the emotions there more tangled, but love no less fierce.

She nudges him away from it, talks to him about how it’s normal for families to grow apart, to say that they’ll understand when he graduates, that he’ll show them they type of man that he is.

By the time he graduates, his powers will start manifesting, and he’ll avoid his family without her prodding. He knows what they’ll think of him, then, and Jess tells herself that she’s helping him. That this is for Sam’s own good.

If he’s with her, then he’s safe. His father won’t kill him while he’s safe at school. He can’t kill Sam for powers that he’ll never know about.

It’s easy to dig into the anger for his father, to use his last words to Sam as a way to hold him at her side. His brother is more difficult. Jess doesn’t do much with that, in the end, tells herself that it would be too complicated, too suspicious, and as long Dean is sticking with their father it amounts to same thing anyway.

The truth is more complicated.

His father will kill Sam if he has to.

She doesn’t think that his brother will. She thinks that maybe he’d choose to protect Sam, over their father’s wishes, over everything he’d been taught, no matter the consequences.

She fears that she and Dean have a lot in common.

She invites Sam over for holidays, makes summer plans with him, holds as much of his attention as she can manage.

She studies and makes friends and laughs and spends so much time with him, but not all of it. It has to be believable after all, has to be constant, in a way that it didn’t have to be with all the other demons sent to take care of him.

Jess lives a life that had been denied to her and tries to do what she was sent to do and does the one thing she was definitely not supposed to do, which is fall in love with Sam Winchester.

~

His brother shows up in their apartment and she knows that she’s going to lose him.

Sam tries to act angry, but she knows him too well. He’s moving around his brother like a flower following the sun and she asks him not to go, tries to find the words to keep him here, but they all get caught in her throat. If she begged, if she threw a fit, if she demanded it of him, he would stay. He’d tell his brother he’s sorry but he’d stay with her and not help him and burn their relationship for good. He loves her enough to do that for her. She knows it.

She loves him enough not to make him.

He kisses her and she knows it’ll be the last time. He doesn’t.

“What did that take, five minutes?” Azazel is right there, breath on the back of her neck, and his anger fury rage pressing down on her even closer. “Over three years at his side and you lost him in five minutes. What a waste.”

“I kept him for over three years,” she says, tries to keep her voice steady, but knows she fails.

She had him for over three years.

“Not good enough,” he whispers, lips on the shell of her ear. “Guess I’ll have to send Meg in after all.”

Pain erupts hot across her stomach and her screams mix with his laughter.

~

Love always burns her in the end.

[vettelsvee]

PREGNANCY JOURNEY | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 1 here

summary: a little bit of your pregnancy journey with seb

word count: 2809

warnings: none of it! just seb and reader being cute (at least that's what i think sjsj). settled on 2012 season

a/n: I love dad!seb bye, pls send me requests bc he's literally the seb i love to write the most about

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

Yours and Seb's families

It had only been two weeks since Sebastian and you had discovered you were going to be parents in that room in Hungary, and you wanted to start sharing the news with your family.

After much deliberation on how you could do it in such a special way, you decided to organize an intimate dinner at the house they shared in Switzerland.

As you enjoyed the delicious dishes you prepared yourself with the useless help of your boyfriend, nerves filled you both as you prepared to share the news at the end of the dinner. So, when desserts arrived at the table and you enjoyed them while chatting animatedly about trivial matters, Vettel gently took your hand under the table. With a glance, you knew it was time to tell your parents what you had been hiding.

You took your glass of wine, from which you hadn't been drinking, and stood up, causing the attentive gazes of the three present to focus on what you were about to say:

"Mom, Dad. Heike, Norbert," you began. "Today you're not here just because I'm showing off my ridiculous cooking skills, but for a more special reason."

Confusion arose among the older couples, who exchanged confused looks with each other.

You began to get emotional, finding it impossible to articulate your words. Therefore, Seb took over for you, continuing with the improvised speech:

"I know it might not be the right time," the younger German expressed, taking your hand, "but you're going to be grandparents."

"Wait… What do you mean, Sebastian?" your mum asked curiously, doubting what her son-in-law just told them.

"That's right, son," Norbert agreed with your mum. "What are you trying to tell us?"

"We're going to be parents," you whispered, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm pregnant."

As soon as your mum heard from your own mouth that you were expecting a child, she rushed to hug you tightly, immediately joined by Vettel's mother, causing all three women to have teary eyes. Norbert immediately ran to hug his son, shouting in excitement as he did so, and your dad, on the other hand, was in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Wait a moment, Y/N," Michael commented, rising and positioning himself next to his son-in-law. "Are you saying that you've been accompanying Seb all season while pregnant, and on top of that, you've kept it from me?"

You started laughing at your dad’s comment. Sebastian, on the other hand, began to feel fear for the first time in his life towards the man who initially became his idol and, over time, not only his friend and mentor, but also his father-in-law.

"Dad, no!" you denied. "I haven't been pregnant all this time. I'm currently about three weeks along, and we found out as soon as we arrived in Hungary because I was nauseous and dizzy the whole trip," you explained.

"I'm sorry if this caught you off guard," your boyfriend apologized, especially to Michael. "It’s not like we haven't been hiding the pregnancy," the young man declared, "but we needed time to process it and make sure it wasn't a false alarm."

Schumacher sighed in relief and wrapped his arm around his wife. Heike hugged her husband, who still couldn't believe he was going to be a grandfather for the first time.

"Yeah, okay…" your dad finally replied. "I'm glad to know that my eldest daughter hasn't been taking unnecessary risks and that, furthermore, you've been celebrating Seb's victories properly."

The mention of this made Sebastian wish he could disappear at that moment just like you.

"Michael, don't say that to them!" your mum exclaimed, hitting her husband's arm. "I still can't believe we're going to be grandparents. It's wonderful! Congratulations, guys!"

Once you exchanged hugs and congratulations, the quartet returned to the table to finish enjoying dinner. The truth was that your parents were concerned about your condition, but for different reasons: on one hand, Michael knew how stressful Formula 1 could be day in and day out, and he didn't want his eldest daughter to suffer accompanying Sebastian, so he would have to have a serious talk with you. Corinna, on the other hand, knew they still had to break the news to Gina and Mick, who would be aunt and uncle in about nine months. As for the Vettels, there was nothing to comment on or exceed: in a few months, the family would grow even more, and the excitement of having the little one in their arms was overwhelming them at that moment.

The former decided to stay silent for the moment, pondering when he could have a chance to talk to you alone. Corinna, however, decided to ask you about what how would you break the news to your siblings:

"Y/N, dear," she immediately captured your attention despite being deeply engrossed in a conversation with your father about Seb's performance that season. "Don’t you want to share the news with your siblings? I think they would like to know that you're pregnant, they would be quite happy..."

"Yes, of course..."

"For now, we would like to enjoy this stage of the pregnancy privately," Vettel interrupted you, "although that doesn't mean we won't tell them. For heaven's sake, Corinna, my siblings don't know anything yet either!"

The woman glanced at her husband, who shot her a look to calm down. Indeed, both families continued to celebrate the new life Seb and you had created and, in due time, would reveal to the rest of their loved ones and possibly the whole world.

Mick and Gina

You couldn't keep the secret any longer. It had only been a couple of days since your parents and in-laws found out you were going to be parents. The same went for Seb's siblings, whom you finally called on the phone because they couldn't come to Switzerland at the moment.

Now it was time for Gina and Mick to find out they were going to be aunt and uncle at fifteen and thirteen years old.

Summer vacation was coming to an end for both teenagers and the eldest Schumacher. The kids had to go back to school, while you would be traveling the world again with you father and you boyfriend in early September.

For that reason, and because you were really excited to see her siblings' reaction, you decided to tell them that afternoon they would go to the mall.

"Guys," you said as you ate your bowl of cereal, "we're going to the mall today. I want us to spend some time together and, well..." you dropped a hint, trying to be mysterious. "I have some news to share, actually."

Gina's eyes widened in surprise. Mick kept his gaze fixed on his buttered toast with jam, pretending not to hear although he was actually really excited.

"Of course, Y/N!" Gina exclaimed excitedly. "I can't wait to buy some new clothes, especially to hear what you have to tell us."

"Exactly that," replied the youngest brother, mouth full. "You're acting very suspiciously, as if you've killed someone. Have you killed someone?"

Gina flicked Mick on the head, who immediately protested, sparking an argument. You simply cleared away your breakfast dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, leaving the kitchen seconds later, not believing that those arguing over a trivial matter would later discover they were going to be uncles.

Once at the mall, the three of you strolled through the aisles, looking for stores of interest and, especially, trying to blend in with the crowd, surprisingly succeeding.

The truth was that days earlier, you and Sebastian had agreed that to break the news to the kids, they would invite them to dinner at their favorite restaurant. However, to avoid raising suspicion, you would say that Seb couldn't make it because he had scheduled a meeting with Red Bull to discuss a few strategy matters. This way, you thought, the kids would be even more surprised.

As the afternoon wore on, your nerves, along with bags of clothes for the kids, and a few indulgences for themselves, grew.

"Y/N, is Seb coming with us?" Mick asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Oh, no, I forgot to tell you! Seb mentioned he had a Skype call or something with Horner and Red Bull about strategy, so he can't make it."

You hated lying to your siblings, especially about Vettel-related matters, particularly to the youngest. They had a very good relationship and sometimes seemed more like siblings than the three Schumacher kids together.

"I know you were excited to see him," you continued explaining, "but I'm sure in a couple of days, or even tomorrow, I can tell him to come over."

"Exactly, Mick," Gina chimed in, "let's enjoy an afternoon with siblings, there will be plenty of time for you to see your brother-in-law!"

After a while of strolling, you finally decided to take your siblings to the restaurant they held in such high regard. As soon as you entered, you spotted the Red Bull driver sitting at a table checking emails on his phone.

Sebastian looked up and found a preteen Mick Schumacher running towards him, receiving a hug the moment he reached him.

"What are you doing here, Seb?!" Mick exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. "We thought you had a meeting with your team!"

Sebastian tousled the boy's hair and stood up to greet both Gina and you, who were giving him knowing glances at what was about to unfold.

"I guess these past few months I've become quite the expert in lies," you said. "And you're not here for just any reason."

Mick and Gina exchanged glances, not fully believing what their older sister was telling them.

"Indeed," Vettel continued, "before we order anything, we'd like to tell you that, around March next year, we'll be adding one more member to the family."

"You're going to be aunt and uncle, guys."

Both of them stood there speechless, trying to process what they had just heard.

"Is this for real, sister?!" Mick whispered cautiously, aware that you were public figures and attention would be on them at that moment. "We're going to have a nephew, Gina!" he turned to his younger sister, who was still in disbelief.

"This is incredible, guys!" Gina exclaimed. "I can't wait for March next year now... And I thought the best thing that could happen to me was going to see One Direction that month!"

You and Sebastian exchanged a knowing glance, realizing that the joy the younger ones were feeling at that moment was even greater than they had initially expected.

"We're so happy that you're part of this beautiful journey ahead," Seb explained, giving them both a hug. "I'm sure, and I know your sister and your parents are too, that you're going to be amazing aunt and uncle. The baby is so lucky to have a family like yours."

You wiped away tears. You hated getting emotional over the slightest thing, but at the same time, you were grateful to be surrounded by so much positivity and support from the early stages of her pregnancy.

"That's for sure, Seb," Mick replied jokingly. "But you have to understand that I'm going to be the funny uncle, and most importantly, his favorite."

The dinner continued with laughter, anecdotes from the teenagers that Seb and you had missed because of the Grand Prix races and, especially, future plans they would make when little Vettel-Schumacher decided to make his way into the world.

Mark Webber

After a month-long break, 2012 Formula 1 season was finally back in Belgium.

You, despite being about three, almost four, months pregnant, decided to continue accompanying you boyfriend for the remaining nine races.

Friday, before free practice sessions began, you were in Seb’s room at the Red Bull Racing hospitality. The German held an instant camera in his hands intending to take a few pictures of you, something that had become routine to document your pregnancy. You, reclined on the sofa in the space, simply caressed your increasingly prominent belly.

The flash of the camera snapped you out of your trance, immediately feeling embarrassed.

"Seb, I've told you a thousand times I don't like you taking pictures of me when I'm not ready," you commented, feeling somewhat uneasy.

Sebastian couldn't care less.

"You're perfect, Y/N Schumacher," Sebastian replied, taking another snapshot of you. "Come on, stand up for a moment and pose with our son for your future husband. You don't have to worry about looking good or not, you're doing enough work creating a life in your belly."

You agreed to your boyfriend's proposal, excited enough to hug your belly and shed a few tears.

Hormones were acting like crazy on you, and Sebastian Vettel might too if he kept being so good to you.

The blonde raised his camera again and once more took a picture of the scene in front of him, highlighting your smile above all.

As the photo was revealed and Sebastian, sitting on the floor, was admiring it, the door to the room opened, revealing a somewhat angry and surprised Mark Webber.

"Well, well…" the man exclaimed. "What do we have here?"

Sebastian and you exchanged looks, a mix of excitement and nervousness. No one beyond your families knew you were expecting a baby, and with the way the Australian was acting, you knew that would soon change.

"What you have here is the future best mother in the world, Webber," Sebastian explained, gesturing from top to bottom at you and then touching your belly once he stood up.

"That's incredible, guys! I'm really happy for you!" Mark approached you and hugged you, genuinely pleased with the news you had just revealed and especially by the trust you had in him to do so.

"Well, it seems Horner will be pleased when you tell him the news," Seb's teammate continued, "because I'm sure he'll want to sign the little one as soon as he's old enough."

"Of course, Mark," Sebastian replied. "Not every day you create offspring with both Schumacher and Vettel blood."

"The royalty of Formula 1, if I may say," Michael Schumacher interjected, entering the Red Bull garage despite not being part of the team. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see how my daughter and my grandchild are doing."

You asnwered with a small ironic laugh at her father's remark, who was mistaken at that moment to think that Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would be a boy.

Kimi Räikkönen

The penultimate race of the 2012 season finally arrived, and you and Sebastian had finally revealed to the world that you were going to be parents. Although there were mixed reactions and comments, the majority of people who discovered that the eldest daughter of Michael Schumacher and the two-time world champion were going to have a child were quite pleased.

Both of you were in the paddock, arriving a bit later than usual. 

"Vettel, hey," Kimi called out as soon as he saw you two. "I heard rumors that you have a new passenger in your very own car. Is that true?"

You burst into laughter at Räikkönen's irony, who maintained a cool demeanor.

"Yes, Kimi, it's true," Seb replied, still chuckling. "The baby is due in March, so just a few months to go."

You nodded in agreement with your boyfriend's statement.

"So, there will be a new fan running around the paddock soon..." Räikkönen commented. "Make sure he doesn't miss the races, Y/N."

"Of course, no need to worry about it..."

"But, hey," Kimi interrupted you, "don't let him stay up all night watching replays of my victories, okay? He's needs some rest too."

Sebastian was bewildered. However, you were laughing even harder at Kimi's antics.

"Don't worry, mate," Vettel replied, "I assure you I'll train her in such a way that she'll be taking you on track before she's even ten."

"Yeah, right, whatever you say" the Finn said ironically. "Just make sure that when she decides to enter the world, you invite me to her big welcome party."

You nodded, playing along with the Lotus driver.

"It's surreal that you've won another victory, Vettel," Kimi continued. "And remember: invite me to the party. I want to welcome the little one with alcohol, lots of alcohol."

Kimi lowered his head in farewell and continued on his way to his garage, letting you both get on with your day.

You and Sebastian knew Kimi well enough to understand that most of his comments were sarcastic, but within the sarcasm, there was genuine happiness for them.

Who would have thought that years later, Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would become the apple of her godfather, Kimi Räikkönen's, eye, every time she visited the paddock with her mother.

[mari-lair]

Heyo! just have a little questionroni.

What would replace the event that caused basically all of act 5 & 6 since you've mentioned the Sif friendquest can't be entirely messed up like it was in the original canon?

would it have some connection to memory of promise perhaps?

There is no one on one equivalent of act 5 and 6, i know is a wild move on my part but the family has each other, they can support each other in their times of need or just... relate to the experience of being in a time loop, even when they are at their most stressed they are never fully isolated, which is important since each family member have a different breaking point and there is always at least one person who can go "hey, don't give up, let's try something new. let's visit loop. let's take a break this one loop. let's test x, y, z theories. We ARE doing progress." and even if that result in comflict, at least they are getting angry, at least they are talking.

There is a creeping despair as the loops keep piling and sometimes bad things happen but the equivalent of Siffrin's "The king needs to be defeated by ME for the loop to break," frantic goal/desperate need for hope wouldn't happen, not to that extreme to every family member, during the same loop, which was what made Siffrin spiral into a "can't waste time can't waste time need efficiency can't waste time, just say your lines faster i need you to be strong!!" and pushed him to be a dick.

So what I do have is not a 'shit shit shit shit!!' arc like act 5, but different breaking points/characters arcs sprinkled all over the au. spoiler for said arcs below (or at least the base of them)

Mirabelle is constantly repeating the day were everyone expect her to save Vaugard, which is not that bad when she believes the loops will stop once they beat the king but it is a nightmare after they win and STILL loop back. And her mother/caretaker figure who was the had put all that trust on her has grown into a shadow of herself. She snaps, she have no patience for siffrin's "are you scared for tomorrow? is okay mira, the change god themselves blessed you, we will beat the king" again when she already beat the stupid king and the change god seem to have cursed her.

Bonnie doesn't understand what is happening, not fully, just that they are never getting closer to saving Nille, nothing is changing, and there is a palpable distance between them and Siffrin whenever a loop reset, they hate it, and they snap at Siffrin a lot cause "Frin won't even crabbing remember anyway!s" on their peak of hopelessness (they do still admire Frin so much so that's why they target him a lot, and Bonnie is hurt but they are also kind. They do eventually forgive Siffrin for not remembering, focusing instead of helping him )

Odile grows colder when she realizes Siffrin is somewhat involved. She will do unspeakable things to protect her friends, but Siffrin is one of her friends too so she needs to get a little desensitized to pushing Shiffrin for answers even when they aren't comfortable being pushed. It isn't good for them either to be in a time loop after all, and they won't remember anyway.

Isabeau doesn't have a 'drastic snap' arc, he is too emotionally controlled/mature and cowardly to have that when the team is already stressed. He is a tough cookie to crack, everyone leaves the loop before it happens, but don't be fooled, it does absolutely take a tool on him.

None of these little arcs happen simultaneously.

Act six is just a few loose ideas bouncing in my head as of now tho.

[b3ach-bunn7]

NO ONE NOTICED

You transferred to UA from halfway across the world. You’re missing home. You feel like shit and Bakugo helps.

COMPLETELY NON CANON like everyone is alive and happy and friends idgaf

Mostly based off of @/tokeniranianfriend's texposts on tik tok plzzzz go check her out!!

—————————————————————————

You are definitely missing movie night today.

The thing is, you feel selfish to complain about your whole situation. You could name probably hundreds of young heroes from your town alone who’d kill to be in your position. To be flown out on a scholarship to one of the most amazing hero schools in the world? It’s not only ungrateful, but it’s selfish. You’re selfish.

And it’s not like you don’t like UA and Japan. You love it here. The conscience stores that are open all night. The little drinks with the huge cubes of ice are your favourite, and everything is so much cheaper here. The teachers are some of the best you've come across in your life, the facilities available to you better than any other school you’d been to. And the people were so kind, so funny and welcoming, despite the fact you joined during their third year. 

Well, there was Bakugo. You wouldn’t call him too welcoming.

Mina promises you he’s much better now than he was in third year, that he’d calmed down once they’d gotten older. You can only imagine what he’d been like when they’d all been first years. You’d been cordially invited into what was known as the ‘Bakusquad’, and the only person you struggled to get through had been him. It had taken endless days of you bugging him and never leaving him be until you’d reached a stage where you think the two of you are friends. You still struggle to break through the grumpy demeanour that he seems to always hold on his face but you make some progress. He lets you watch him cook on his nights in the kitchen, legs dangling under the table as you commentate on his diligent chopping and stirring. He gave you his number one night, and despite the fact he tends to reply with emojis more than anything else, it was progress. Mina tells you he doesn’t just spar with anyone too, so you’ve taken that into account too.

You try not to think about the fact you have a tiny crush on him. It’s Bakugo. You don’t think he feels any emotion stronger than he does rage, so you ignore it. Bakugo isn’t the issue here.

You just miss home. You miss your bed. You miss your cats. You miss your mum.

The flights home are way too expensive, so you spend most of your holidays here, the dorms so noticeably quiet once everyone is home with their families. And you haven’t minded it too much, but it’s your birthday next week and it’s only just occurred to you it’s your first one without your family and friends. There's a weird pit in your stomach because you know your stupid family tradition of cake right at midnight, your favourite dinner being cooked won’t be happening. Your usual tradition of friends treating you to dinner, opening gifts at the table. None of that now.

You’re also on your period, which does not help.

All of this is why you quickly shoot Mina a message that you won’t be making it to movie night. Her reply is almost immediate.

Mina: WHAT

Mina: WHY NOT

You: I’m just feeling a little emo rn 😔

You: And my cramps are killing rn 

Mina: okay ml :(((

Mina: you wanna talk about it?

You: Nah, I’m okay

You: But thank you bae 🙈🙈

Mina: love youuuu

Mina: ill tell the others

You don’t bother responding. You feel slightly mean, but Mina knows you best and you know she won’t see it in any bad way. You burrow under your covers, snacks on one side of your and your laptop on the other. The latest episode of Love is Blind is playing, and you commentate to nobody but yourself at the people on your screen. You’re only five minutes in when you feel your phone buzz on the bed. You ignore it at first. But then it buzzes twice more and you huff, shoving the m&ms in your hand into your mouth and grabbing your phone.

Bakugo: Mina said you’re not coming

Bakugo: Why

Bakugo: ??

You: just not feeling it today

Bakugo: Why

You: idk bro I’m just not 😭

You: ill be there next week promise

Bakugo: Youre being weird

You: ???

You: I’m just so tired 😔

You: ik ur not gonna miss my annoying commentary let’s be real

Bakugo doesn’t respond. Again, nothing surprising. It’s not the first and definitely not the last time he’ll leave you on read. You unpause your show but it’s quickly interrupted by a knock at your door. A knock is putting it lightly. You think this person might be trying to break down your door. It takes you a minute to emerge from your cocoon you’ve built on your bed, pulling the hood on your hoodie up to cover your bed head. 

“Fucking hell, I’m coming.” You huff, quickly yanking the door open.

Your words are cut off at the sight of Bakugo standing at your door. You quickly curse the fact you didn’t try to make yourself look slightly more presentable. You think it makes your not so tiny crush even worse that Bakugo is genuinely quite beautiful. Shining red eyes, arms so muscular you know you’re able to see the lines of them through his clothes, long lashes you’re honestly jealous of. And he always has this sweet smell around him you can’t seem to get enough of, always so obvious when the two of you are sparring.

“I- What are you doing here? Isn’t everyone in Sero’s dorm tonight?” 

Bakugou eyes flit down to the hoodie you’re wearing then back up to your face. He’s got an unreadable expression on his face and you’re starting to get annoyed.

“That’s my hoodie.” 

It was his hoodie. One you’d stolen on a day that was too cold when all of your own were in the wash. You’d ignored Mina’s teasing at the fact he hadn’t said a word about it. Until now, apparently.

You huff. “Okay. Is that why you’re breaking down my door? Would you like it back?” You start pulling at the sleeves but he rolls his eyes, waving you off.

“No, no. Why aren’t you at Sero’s?” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

You guess it is weird. Once you’d been formally invited to attend, you hadn’t missed one of the movie nights Bakugo and his friends had. Once a week, at whoever’s dorm was cleanest and had a TV, everyone would crowd in on the floor and the bed to watch whatever dumb thing they’d picked that week. It wasn’t like you to miss it but it also wasn’t like Bakugo to show up at your room about it.

You tug the sleeves back on your arms. “I’m just- I told you. Not feeling it. I’m tired.”

He frowns. “Have you been crying?”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. You swipe at your face. You had been a while ago and you’re surprised he even noticed. 

“No. Well. Not now. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Are we done here?” 

Bakugo leans forward slightly and your cheeks flush. You try to shove him back but he doesn’t move as he peers past your shoulder. With a defeated sigh you let him, breathing in that smell that always follows him. You don’t watch as his eyes travel over the messy bed, the used tissues on the covers and the fact you’re clearly wearing the clothes you’ve slept in.

“Have you been in your room all day?” His eyes look back to meet yours and you turn away, slightly embarrassed at the tone in his voice and the close proximity. You push him back, shutting your door behind you.

“So what, it’s Saturday.”

“Doesn’t mean you should be sitting in bed all fucking day. Have you even eaten today?”

You fluster. “Yes.”

Bakugo narrows his eyes. His gaze is so focused on you. You kinda feel like you’re being scolded by a parent. 

“Proper food? Not those shitty snacks that you think you’re hiding under your bed?” He drawls, an eyebrow quirking up.

“They’re not shitty. It’s my stash. They don’t sell crunchie bars in Japan.”

“The fuck is a crunchie?” 

“Chocolate and honeycomb. It’s good. You want one?”

“The fuck? No.” Bakugo scoffs. He grabs your sleeve suddenly and starts dragging you down the hallway. 

You try to fight it at first, but who are you kidding? If Bakugo wants you to go somewhere you’re unfortunately going whether you like it or not. He’s not afraid to drag you there by your hoodie strings and the two of you know that. Mina said the fact he’s so rough with you is good, and it means he thinks you’re strong. You just think it means recovery girl sees you much more than she should. You shuffle down the corridors and let him drag you to the kitchen. 

“Wait, what are we doing here?” You ask, shivering at the cold hardwood floor on your bare feet.

Bakugo starts pulling out pots and pans. He silently takes off his slippers and pushes them over to you. “I’m making you some proper food. Not that unhealthy shit you’re always fucking eating.”

You frown, stepping into his shoes. “It’s not shit. It’s yummy.”

“It’s going to make you fat.” 

Your mouth gapes, and you shove his shoulder. “Don’t call me fat, you freak.”

“I didn’t call you fat, I said it’s going to make you fat. Especially if you sit in bed all day.” He grabs some veg from the fridge, swiftly dodging the second swipe you make at him.

You know behind Bakugo’s harsh words he means well. He won’t outright tell you that he’s worried about you, but the weird way he keeps glancing back at you tells you that he is. At least that’s what you hope. So you jump up onto your usual spot on the counter and watch him.

“And what is the great Chef Bakugo making tonight?”

“Curry.” His hands fly across the chopping board as he chops some onions.

“Yum. Can I help?”

“Fuck no.”

The same reaction to the same question you ask every time he’s in the kitchen. Bakugo works alone, you know this. You just like to annoy him whenever you can. 

And you’re perfectly content to just watch. The ripple of his muscles as his arm moves up and down over the chopping board. The way tufts of blonde hair fall in front of his face. The way he used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“You’re being so quiet. It’s fucking weird.” He looks up at you from where he’s stirring something in a pot. 

You shrug. “Thought you’d like the silence, no?” You smile slightly, but the interrogative look on his face makes it fall flat.

“Not from you.” He turns to attend to the rice cooker that’s beeping to tell him it’s done. 

The meal finishes quicker than you’d think. You spend most of the time just watching, idly bringing up something random when the silences feel too long. Bakugo brings your plates into the living room. The dorms are surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. The loudest of your class are all holed up in Sero's dorm right now, and as Bakugo drops onto the couch, you can’t help but notice the two of you are alone. He grabs the tv remote, immediately flicking through Netflix. 

You haven't sat down yet. This feels like something and you have no idea if you’re reading too much into this situation. Bakugo glances at you.

“What, I need to drag you here too? Sit.”

Truthfully, you’re too exhausted to care if it does mean something. You roll your eyes, sitting down on the couch next to him. “I’m not a dog.”

“Listened like one.”

You flick Bakugo’s head and he grunts. “Piss off and eat.”

The food smells amazing. You’re not surprised, everybody knows Bakugo is the best in your class. He just has to be good at everything. 

Just one spoon of the food is enough to have you almost moaning on the couch. “Fuck, it’s so good.” 

You speak through a mouthful, huffing smoke out your mouth. It’s too hot to eat, but you don’t care. Bakugo was right. You really hadn’t eaten all day, what with your cramps and the sadness that popped in your gut.

Bakugo smirks slightly. “Better than your crunchie bars?”

“Definitely. Though that’s a shout for dessert.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He keeps clicking through the channels. Todoroki had kindly lent his fathers bank card to buy Disney+ and Netflix, and Bakugo is currently on the former. He scrolls right past your favourite movie, and you nudge his shoulder.

“Wait, put on Meet the Robinsons, please.” You nudge his shoulder more intensely and he scowls at you.

“Fuck off, no. You pick this every movie night, I’m sick of it.”

“It’s good. My comfort movie. Click.”

“No.”

“Please, Bakugo.” 

You look up at him in a way you hope is convincing enough. You think you see his eyes soften just slightly before he’s sighing, cursing you and Walt Disney under his breath. He does click play, and you cheer, bringing your bowl of curry to your lap.

You’re locked into the movie too much to see Bakugo stealing glances at you throughout the whole thing. He’s silent for all of ten minutes. Which is weird, because this is Bakugo, who is known for firing explosions at the back of Kaminari's head if he starts talking too loudly.

“If all it took for you to cheer up was this shitty movie, I’m sure Mina would’ve given up her night to choose.” 

He speaks quietly, enough that you almost don’t hear him. You don’t look at him, placing your bowl, now polished clean, back on the coffee table. You don’t say anything for a moment. Bakugo doesn’t push, and it’s that unusual tenderness he’s handling you with that makes you want to cry again. You can’t believe how pathetic you must look, that Bakugo of all people is being nice to you.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I could handle talking to all of you guys without being all sad in the corner and ruining the fun.”

Bakugo doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes are still focused on the screen, and you watch as the lights dance across his face. “What happened?”

You look away from him. You breathe once. Twice. Blink a couple times to curb the tightness behind your eyes.

“I just.” You sigh shakily. “I just miss home.”

You laugh wetly, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. You try and hide the tears that pool in your eyes but he could hear them even if he couldn’t see them.

“It’s so stupid. I just. My birthday’s coming up, and I can’t fly back home, so. I’m going to be here. And like, all that stupid stuff I used to do with my family i can’t and it just got me thinking of all the other stuff I miss. Like my bed. And my cat. And I’m also running out of crunchie bars.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “And I feel so ungrateful. Selfish. Like, I should be happy to be here. It’s such a great opportunity, and-” 

“Don’t say that.” His words are sudden and do their job in shutting you up.

“You can be so stupid sometimes. Of course you’re going to fucking miss home. Who wouldn’t? Doesn’t make you selfish. Makes you fucking normal.” His eyes never leave the screen but you’re sure he can feel your eyes on him.

“You don’t think it makes me weak?” You mumble.

Bakugo’s eyes furrow. And then he does look at you, and it’s so intese that you want to look away. But you don’t, just fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie instead. Red eyes pour with emotion, and if you don’t like Bakugo for anything it’s this. He’s so passionate, about everything. About his hero work, about his feeling, even this. Even you.

“You’re not fucking weak. I’d like to see one of the idiots in our class do what you’re doing. Dunce face wouldn’t last a week.”

You snort at that, rubbing at your eyes.

“Just. Just don’t hole yourself up in your room like that. It’s stupid. If you have shit to talk about, talk about it.” 

You think he wants to say we’re here, that he’s here if you ever need him to be. But he doesn’t. Instead, he makes you food and lets you slobber all over his hoodie. He tuts as you wipe at your face with the sleeve, reaching forward to grab your wrist. His fingers are warm and so much bigger than yours that they wrap around it easily.

“Stop using my hoodie as a tissue, there’s a fucking box right there.”

“Leave me alone. I’m sad, you have to be nice to me.” You pout as he drops your hand. You immediately miss the warmth.

“Shut the fuck up. Watch your shitty movie.”

BONUS:

Mina: hey babyyyyyy

Mina: u feeling better??

Mina: Sero got oizza do u want me to being u a slice

Mina: it’s got stuffed crust🤤 ik u want a bite sooo bad

You: Stfu

You: She’s asleep

Mina: ??? 

Mina: tf r u sleep texting in third person?!?

You: Stop texting raccoon eyes ur gonna wake her up

Mina: BAKUGO???

Mina: r u in her dorm rn 😉

You: Stfu

Mina: use protection 😘

You: Kys 

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

guys i kinda struggle to write for bakugo?? im always writing outgoing and energetic characters, and the fact hes so nonchalant and quiet is too hard for me... that and the fact he has never interacted with a women in canon?? hes an enigma

anyways... plzzzz give me asks i have no idea what or who to write for!

[reiderwriter]

Okay, I just wanted to start off and say I love your stories. They're always so good. You've reblogged one of my stories a while, and I actually squealed and scared the crap out of my friend. But yeah, I live you and your stories 💖💖💖

So I read your one story of Spencer being a soon-to-be dad, and I really like the idea of seeing Spencer and reader as actual parents just feeling the emotions. I thought something based around their daughter (because Spencer's a girl dad) hitting a milestone like walking, talking, or something even bigger like the first day of school. I don't know if that makes sense, but either way, I hope you like it!

A/N: I love the idea of new-dad Spencer. He deserves a loving family and a baby so much 😭 I combined this request with one of the prompts for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic challenge which you can find the details for here! ❤️

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Masterlist

You never thought leaving to go for a spa day would be one of the hardest things you'd have to do in your life, but here you were. 

In the ten months since you'd given birth to your daughter, you'd been stressed, lacking in sleep, leaking fluids from places that you forgot could have fluids leak from, and you'd been totally, irreversibly, head over heels in love. 

Both with the tiny little gremlin you'd given birth to, and with the man that you watched become a father. 

Spencer Reid was a great dad. 

He'd had a fair amount of anxiety leading up to the birth, worrying about every detail, talking to geneticists, driving you to and from each check up or attending via video call if he was on a case. After she was born, he helped out as best he could. 

For a man who had delivered a baby before and was absolutely great with his teammates' kids, he couldn't hold her for the first week without an intense look of panic crossing his features.

“Y/N, what happens if I drop her?” 

“Y/N, she sneezed. What if I got her sick?”

“Y/N, she fell asleep, I can't move.” 

A genius with an IQ of 187 slashed to 60 in front of a pretty girl. His tiny daughter had him thrown through a loop he got seriously stuck in. 

He was still helpful, and he got used to all his new duties and tasks within a week, but watching those cute clueless expressions pass over his face now and then endeared you to him that much more. 

He knew everything, but he had to learn this right there with you. 

So yes, leaving for a relaxing spa visit was hard. 

Spencer had been on a case for the last four days, his first since your daughter had arrived and the official end to his paternity leave. You'd been happy to see him get back to it, in all honesty. Spencer’s job, his research, and his work at the FBI were like muscles he needed to stretch. It wasn't that he couldn't live without them, but there would always be a part of him that felt stiff or unsure of himself without the possibilities of a case to unravel or some theorizing to do. 

You were slightly panicked at the thought of being alone with your daughter for four days, but you managed. With a phone call home every single night where he asked you about every single thing your little bundle of joy had done outside of his watchful gaze. 

Now, it was your turn. 

Spencer had insisted on it upon returning from his case. He got four nights of relative peace after 20 months of waking up with the baby, sleeping with the baby, napping when the baby napped, carrying the baby around when it became evident that she was desperately scared of not being the center of attention. 

He came back with a spring in his step, and the deep desire to see you get a solid night's rest the way he'd been able to. 

You'd tried shooting him down, multiple times, to no reward. 

“Spencer, you didn't exactly just up and go off gallivanting. You were working.”

“I was working, and I still got more rest than you. I really needed that sleep and time away, Y/N, and I think you do, too. Now, please, go away,” he'd pulled you into his arms when you'd put the baby down that night to reveal his brilliant plans. 

“Just for the night. Go away for a lovely overnight break. Not indefinitely. I love you.” His panicked confession at the end sent you into giggles, that with a few well times kisses had you reluctantly agreeing to the girls trip he'd planned you. 

The BAU girls had been roped into accompanying you on the trip, which honestly meant that he'd be getting status updates any time he asked for one. 

JJ, Penelope, Emily, and Tara were all going to strong arm you into the car if need be to carry you off to the nearest 5(ish) star Hotel and Spa. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

The man had even packed the bag for you to send you off, had made you breakfast in bed and had run to every sound your daughter had made from dusk until dawn so you didn't have to lift a finger. 

“Y/N, you're resting today.”

“But-” 

“No. No buts. Just rest.”

“At least let me hold her for a second to say goodbye.” He blinked at you for a few seconds before his stubbornly helpful face turned softer, and he quickly handed your daughter back for a small cuddle. 

With a lingering hug, you told your daughter - who absolutely did not care one bit that you would be wandering out of the house soon enough - that you'd be back in the morning, kissed your husband on the lips, and were swiftly kidnapped by JJ and Emily. 

To your credit, you lasted two whole hours before breaking down. 

The drive to the hotel was quick and peaceful, and it felt nice to breathe in the fresh air without having to also check for various baby smells. 

You checked in fast, and all gathered in the in-hotel restaurant for brunch and mimosas, and then it hit you. Another mother walked in with a stroller, and you were blubbering. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you gave in to the emotions. 

You knew, of course, that you were going to have to leave your daughter at some point. It wasn't healthy for either of you to have attachment issues, and you didn't want to hinder your daughters development by sticking too close - but that didn't mean you didn't miss her. 

JJ noticed your watery eyes first. “Oh no, I know that look,” she smiled over her drink, taking a sip. 

“What? What look?” You said, but giving yourself massively away with a good sniff and watery blink. 

“You lasted longer than I did. I couldn't go half an hour without turning my car around and heading back to Henry, and I swear it was only worse with Michael.” 

You giggled a bit as you wiped your eyes. 

“Do you think… do you think we could go back? Just for a little bit. I just want to check on them.”

The women passed a look between them and then nodded back at you, obviously having expected this. 

“Actually, we didn't book any spa treatments until the afternoon. We had a feeling something like this would happen,” Tara smiled at you, and you snorted in surprise as you dabbed away your tears with a handkerchief. 

“We are laying some ground rules though,” Emily said, a stern tone fighting the playful smile on her face. 

“We can peak through a window, but we're not going in. And we're not going to call ahead and let Spencer know. The kid needs to know you feel confident in his parenting skills, and if he's just got the baby settled and you come back in, it won't be easy to calm her down again.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, but you were already halfway to the car by the time you could finish the sentence. 

The girls pulled up a block away and let you walk calmly back to your front door. 

You'd since agreed to a time limit and not to unlock the door. Emily went ahead to scope out the house, communicating with JJ on the phone who was holding your hand to stop you from wringing them. 

You'd never been a part of the BAU, but somehow you felt like a team member on a case getting ready to stake out a target. 

When Emily gave you the signal, the rest of the girls gave you space, and you ducked down to peer into your ground floor window. 

Spencer was on his stomach with your daughter, and they were having what seemed like a riveting conversation. 

“And so then I obviously got tongue-tied. Like I said, Daddy isn't good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women like Mommy.” 

“Be be be da.”

“Exactly. I really embarrassed myself, actually. I went up to her and said ‘do you have a number?’ and she was so confused.”

“Ba!” 

“Yeah, she sounded like that, too. I kept talking more and more, and she couldn't understand what I meant. She thought I was asking about her age at one point. I was just getting redder and redder, and then she grabbed my hand and led me to a seat at the back of the bookshop because she thought I was sick.”

He smiled down at the infant again, still babbling to herself.

“I was sick, of course, but it was just love sickness. I still am.” 

The tears that you'd delicately wiped away earlier came back hot and heavy now as you resisted the urge to crawl through the window to your precious family. 

Spencer was telling your daughter the story of how he first asked you out, near disastrously, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't done telling stories. 

“I really love your Mommy, you know. She's wonderful.”

“Mmmm,”

“See, you think so too. Everyone thinks so.” 

“Mmmma” 

“Yes, your Mama. You’re just like her, everyone loves you, too.” 

“Mama.”

You heard Spencer's breath hitch as you closed a hand over your mouth to stop a shocked squeal from coming out. 

“T-That's right. Mama. One more time, say mama.”

“Mama,” the little baby squealed in delight, reacting to her fathers utter joy. 

“You're speaking. One more time, Mama.”

“Mama!” 

“Your mama is going to be so mad,” Spencer whispered, grabbing his daughter up in one more careful hug and kissing her face as she giggled delightfully. “We need to keep this a secret. Tomorrow, you'll have you say your first word in front of her, and we'll both act surprised, okay? Promise?”

The gargle he got in response was enough to have your shoulders shaking as the others extricated you from your own front lawn. 

Back in the car, you broke down into giggles and tears, shoulders rising and falling in sobs and laughter intermittently. 

“Is this a total psychotic break or just a symptom of seeing Spencer as a dad?” Penelope asked, nudging you with her elbow as you tried to regain your composure.

“It's… whew, it's okay. We can go back now.” 

“You sure?” JJ asked from the driver's seat, and you nodded once again.

“Yeah. I'm fine now. I'm really good.” 

The women all offered you similar smiles as you drove away, blissful and content. 

[moowmoon]

AFTER SCHOOL

— aaron hotchner x fem!reader

— summary: aaron was sure that he would win the teddy bear, but sometimes not even the BAU chief's aim can help him.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 858

— a/n: hi! this is the first work that i publish in this account and i hope you guys like it! this drabble was based on the song "after school" by the girl group weekly and i choose to use the colorful and fun vibe from the mv to inspire me to write this drabble. english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

moowmoon playlist

“i can’t forget your face back then

we melt into each other, you feel

like another me rather than a friend”

— after school, weekly.

The amusement park emanated life, full of laughter, and the irresistible smell of cotton candy, and was illuminated with the most diverse colors of lights. People walked in all directions, chatting animatedly inside their homes and families, while children ran around trying out all the rides. There was a magical, carefree atmosphere in the air, which contrasted perfectly with the normally controlled and risky life of the head of BAU.

Aaron was sitting next to her, carefully observing the movement around the two of them with a small smile on his face, but still with a watchful eye - a habit he had acquired the moment he was promoted to head of the unit. It had been years since he had allowed himself to relax like this. His attention, however, turned to a target-shooting stand where large, colorful teddies hung like trophies for the winners. He noticed her watching one of the capybaras with an amused twinkle in her eye.

“Would you like to try?” she asked, already wondering what the answer would be.

Hotch nodded, shrugged, and let out a short laugh. “Why not? It seems easy enough.”

The glint of defiance in her eyes made Aaron approach the stall, determined to win that plush to impress her. And to achieve this, he only had four attempts. Aaron chose and adjusted the toy rifle in his hands, taking careful aim. He took a deep breath, mentally calculating the angle, determined to get it right the first time and excited to win the plush for her. However, when he pulled the trigger, the cork flew off to the side, nowhere near the target.

She let out a soft laugh, with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “I'm thinking it's a bit harder than the wall, huh.”

He frowned, refusing to give up so easily, after all, he was a man with a simple and firm goal: to win that capybara for her. He prepared himself again, aiming more carefully. This time, the projectile grazed the target but still failed to bring it down.

She laughed again, but this time her voice carried a hint of gentle teasing. “It seems that the infamous Agent Hotchner, strict head of the BAU, is having trouble hitting a target?”

He took a breath, frustrated, but with a slight smile appearing on his face. “You'll see. I just need one more try and the capybara will be all yours.”

He tried once more and… missed again.

This time, she couldn't hold back her laughter. Aaron looked at her, the seriousness of his appearance melting into a complicit smile, his gaze almost defiant.

“Okay,” he said, laughing, ”maybe it's harder than I thought.”

“You've only got one more try, so be careful not to miss,” she said, as she looked at the rifle in her hands.

“Do you want to try? You might be luckier than me.”

She stepped forward, holding out her hand for the toy rifle with a playful smile. Aaron raised his eyebrows, clearly doubting that she would be able to hit the target, but handed over the gun.

“Let me show you how to do it,” she said, winking slightly as he crossed his arms, skeptical.

She laughed and raised the rifle, adjusting her aim with a focused look that made him realize how much fun she was having. She took a deep breath and, with surprising ease, pulled the trigger. The cork flew in a direct line and, to both their surprise, hit the target precisely, knocking it over with a perfect “clang”.

The stall attendant applauded, picking up the large plush and handing it to her. She turned to Aaron with the most victorious smile he had ever seen.

“See, it's just a question of talent,” she joked, holding up the plush.

He shook his head, feigning an expression of resignation and raising his hands in the air. “I surrender. Looks like you're the expert here, not me.”

With the plush in her hands, she took a step towards Aaron, smiling triumphantly. He let out a light laugh, his expression finally relaxing after three failed attempts.

“You really stole the show,” he said, amused, holding out his hand to her.

She entwined her fingers in his without hesitation, and together they began to walk through the park. The plush, a large capybara with a turtle backpack on its head, swayed between them, each step keeping them closer and more in tune.

“Who would have thought that the great agent Aaron Hotchner would lose to a game of target shooting in an amusement park?” she teased, still laughing.

Aaron just shrugged, without wiping the smile off his face. “Let's just say it was a sacrifice worthy of good company.”

As they walked hand in hand, the light from the bars and toys gently illuminated the path, creating a bubble of calm and happiness around them. At that moment, the world seemed a little simpler, and he felt something rare: the pure pleasure of the shared moment.

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all &lt;3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

[hughes86-43]

“Wifey” | J.Hughes

warnings - none! just some grammar mistakes!

The off-season had just started a little over two weeks ago, with everything from getting stuffed packed to trying to get everyone in at the same time, you and Jack were finally able to get everybody around for an end of season party at the lake house.

That morning you got everything ready for the day with getting the food that was being catered that day correct to Jack setting up extra table and chairs with Quinn and Luke. You easily had at least 50 people coming tonight. With family members coming and everyone’s friends coming, you had to make sure everything was perfect.

Ellen and Jim arrived earlier in the day to help set everything up. It was around 5pm, when several people began showing up. Trevor, Cole, and Alex showed up with extra beer and wine. Your parents and brothers showed up closely after. Soon enough, there a good mixture of your family and friends and a bunch of hockey players that the guys knew were around and that were their friends.

You were sitting on Jack’s lap in the backyard talking to Trevor, Cole and Alex. Jack has his arms wrapped around your waist and playing with a loose string on your crop top. You had one hand wrapped around his neck while also drinking a few sips of your beer with the other.

“Dude! I had no idea the lady was even right there! I just bumped right into her!” Trevor says while recounting a story about how he accidentally bumped into a lady causing her to spill her drink everywhere.

Cole’s laughing at him. “Did you at least pay to get her another drink?!”

“Yeah, yeah I did. Although, she could’ve at least said she was behind me so I didn’t bump into her!” The whole situation has you and Jack in a complete laughing fit.

Trying to catch your breath, you say, “Or she recognized you and planned it all along so that she could talk to you!” Trevor all of a sudden gets wide eyed which causes the boys to laugh even more.

“You know, I think you’re right! She kept looking at me up and down like she was checking me out!”

“Trev, you were literally wearing the weirdest outfit combination…. Sweatpants with your suit jacket and a button up shirt!” Cole says, causing even more laughter.

Deciding that you needed to check on everyone else to see if they were okay, you get up off of your boyfriends lap. He gives you a pouty face as you do. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back I just want to check up on everyone else and also use the bathroom.” You run your hand through his hair.

He gives you a nod and squeeze to your thigh. “Okay, just don’t be long! I can only be around Trevor for so long!”

“Hey!”

“Oh, you know I only joke!” Jack says to a pouty Trevor. “She’s my wife, of course I’d want her around more than you!” You just laugh and tousle his hair again when he calls you that.

“She’s not your wife yet! You two aren’t even engaged.” Trevor says trying to lift his feelings up.

“Well, she will be soon enough! We live together, we may as well be married!”

“Okay, boys,” You say trying to calm them down. “You two continue arguing, Cole and Alex I expect you two to stop them from fighting, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Let me know if you need me, wifey!” Jack says with a smirk, while also turning to see Trevor’s reaction. He just shakes his head.

You couldn’t help but to laugh to yourself as you walk into the house to talk to everyone.

While your gone, Trevor and Jack have stopped arguing for a bit.

Trevor asks Jack, “So, you’re going to ask her to marry you, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I asked her dad earlier tonight while she was busy. It seemed like the perfect time to ask him since everyone is here and she wouldn’t notice. I have the ring hid in the back of my closet under some hockey stuff.”

The boys are smiling so big at him. “She’s definitely the one for you Jacky.” Cole says while patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s the only that has ever laughed at your jokes, even when they’re so bad!” Alex jokes.

“Oh, shush! Just don’t say anything or be suspicious about it. I still don’t know when I’ll fully ask.”

“Ask what?” You say when you made your way back onto Jack’s lap.

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he smiles, “Oh, just when I’m going to ask Luke if he has a crush on that one girl he has been talking to.” He hopes he played that off well.

“Oh yeah! He’s totally into her, you should see them inside!” Seeing that he played it off well, he lets out a breath and lays his head on your shoulder, laughing at your story of Luke and his seemingly new crush inside.